In Protest

There will be a vigil in Great Bend tonight for a murdered 14 year old girl.
She was quite possibly a troubled young girl. She was murdered in a way that no one except a forensics specialitst might be able to determine, but escapes the rest of us at this point.
So there is to be a vigil at Jack Kilby square in the middle of Great Bend, Kansas. There might be a few speakers to proclaim the glory of God and how we should turn to him now.
The event (and that seems to be what it has turned into) has attracted the attention of Fred Phelps and his church of hate. Seems he is going to show up and picket the vigil and spread the word of hate of "fags" and how the world is going to hell and how the girl's murder is yet another punishment from God for loving queers. Just a special time.
Along with Fred will be the Freedom riders and the Patriot guard, in all their flag waving attire and glory. They will be protesting Fred.
This is where my hackles start to rise.
Rather than paying attention to a quacking hate monger, why not turn their backs on him and support the family. Have the riders leave their patriotic attire at home and support the family as common people recognizing the agonizing grief these people are experiencing. Say the prayers for the dead. Say the prayers for the living. Come together in compassion.
Not hate.
Let the girl be in peace now. Help the family achieve some peace. Stating there is a lesson in all this won't help. Hating and protesting against the Fred Phelps of this world will not help either.
Help the family.

It could happen

There was a skit on the original Saturday Night Live which is as funny today as when it first aired. Gilda Radner going off on some tangent and after being confronted by Jane Curtain, her response was "It could happen!".
Something happened in a town nearby. A young girl went missing. Last seen getting in to a vehicle with a young man to attend a party.
It has been 2 days.
Today a body was found. Burnt beyond recognition.
The girl is still missing. Not a huge leap from one fact to another.
I have 2 daughters and a son. It would be comforting to think it would never happen to them.
Very comforting.
But the girl is missing.
There is a body...

It could happen and it scares the hell out of me.

Looking Back

I went to coffee with people I graduated from hig school. There weren't many there but it was nice to see them. Keep in mind, this was the first time I have done something like this. Ever.
I have avoided reunion anything until today. I am not sure what made me finally decide to go. A woman always known to be down to earth and downright funny was to be there. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was being asked by someone the other day if I had great memories of my junior and senior years. She just had a wonderful time during those years. I could not agree with her.
Oh, there were some good times. But to want to relive them or say they were wonderful years? Nope.
So, I went and it was nice. Do I want to make a regular event of it. Hmmmm. I would have to think about it.
I do know what I came away with. I do not want to go back to the teen years. I like the present. I like who I am now.
There is a favorite quote of mine I was reminded of today.
"Education is a wonderful thing, but I prefer wisdom."

Answered

I had a prayer answered today. It did not dawn on me til just a few minutes ago what had happened.
Our oldest has encountered some, hmmm - what should I call them, learning opportunities. Yup, that is what they are, learning opportunities. And when she decides to learn, we all get the opportunity to learn.
Anyway, things are ok, just a bit bumpy.
A few days ago, thinking about her travails, the heat in general, looking at finances, thinking evil thoughts about my oldest's former, working and just fretting in general, I felt pretty despondent.
It was then I offered up a prayer.
God, I need a little help here. I'll be glad to do the work. Just need a little boost from you. No smiting. Nope, not asking for that. Nothing flashy, just not needed. But something to give a little light on life.
Then in conversation this evening, the boost was given. Just a little thing. Nothing flashy.
As I sat here perusing the internet, the conversation replayd itself in my brain and there was the answer.
God, you answered!
Then, in a voice from inside, "About time you noticed."

Thank you.

Been a while

It has been a while since I could string words together and make sense. Maybe it has been the heat rendering me mute. Perhaps my ranting at God over the unfairness of life. Maybe it just sheer laziness. The dog days of summer have struck me dumb.
I may have been mute but the brain continues on.
I have watched my children go through tough life lessons. Dragging us along with them.
Why don't they listen to what we have done and learned? Why must they learn the hard way?
George and I have said to ourselves, "Whatever we need to do, we will".
Damn.

Roads long ago

My husband and I like to take back roads. Mostly paved county roads. Occasionally the dirt roads that look like they lead somewhere.
We have done this several times this summer and each time we do, there is always a very pleasant surprise awaiting us.
Today we went to look at a new/old property recently bought by a friend. Up in North Central Kansas and very much off the beaten path.
Five natural stone buildings and very old metal barn. Some of the foundations were crumbling and the wood had certainly seen better days. I am sure termites had themselves many a fine meal.
We had been given permission to get out and look around. The obligatory caution about snakes in the area had also been given.
Talk about a step back in time. The walls left standing had so many stories to tell.
The natural stone cave that had been made in the side of the hill spoke of storms and a cool place to retreat to.
The old stone barn still had the musty, earthy scent of horses and cattle from long ago.
I am not sure what Susan will eventually do with the property. Knowing her, she will keep it as close to the original purpose as is possible. A place back in time. When life seemed a little more simple.
I hope we can go back. Not to that time, but to that place.
Just to be still and watch.

I had a wonderful pleasure given to me today. I got to watch my grandson sleep.
His fists curled up as though he were ready to take on the world in his dreams. His face, with a slight smile, seemed to be anticipating something wonderful around the corner.
We lose that kind of sleep as we get older. Worries invade the dreams. The body rests and the brain goes on.
What I saw was a brain at ease and in sync with the body.
What I saw was my grandson. Innocent and perfect. An image I can take with me anywhere.

If called...

The Prebyterian church just passed the ok to allow non-celibate but in a committed relationship homosexuals into the clergy. This is certainly cause for joy.
So why do I not feel it. Why is there the feeling of exasperation?
Probably because I don't feel there should be any argument. My own church (Episcopal) is splitting down the middle over the issue. The UCC and the Lutherans (well, some of them) are in the middle of the fray. All because of the nature of humans to not want to accept what cannot be easily explained.
So a couple of statements were made in a fairly important book a long, long time ago. With those statements, individuals have been alienated, persecuted and outcast.
Isn't it time to put it to rest?

Harvest

In traveling to and fro the last couple of days, my husband and I have been privileged to see the beginning of the wheat harvest in central Kansas. It is a sight that gives me a sense of excitement each and every year.
When I was little, my dad would take me out at the beginning of the harvest to show me the combines going in to the fields for the first time. He would be excited and that was passed to me.
Now, have I ever driven a combine or somehow taken an active part in harvest? Nope!
But who in the area is not moved somewhat by the sight of combines in the field?
So, the last couple of days have been an absolute delight. I am seeing the combines and feeling the excitement for my dad. He is probably smiling and pointing out the big machines to whoever might be beside him at the time and they too, are feeling the excitement.

Summer time

We drove to church this morning only to figure out it had started an hour earlier. I was not about to show up for the end of church, so we just kept on driving. George and I thought we would just take back roads home. See the country side.
Along the way I smelled my absolute favorite scent of summer: alfalfa in bloom, right before it needs to be cut. A sweet fragrant smell you get for only one season. I have always loved it. It made me think of other senses and smells that come only with summer.
Walking in the evening with my dogs and the whiff of someone grilling outside. It evokes the thought of that same someone cooking for their family, but making it a little more special by doing it outside.
The smell of sheets or towels that have dried in the sun and breeze. The fabric smells of the sun.
The smell of rain right before the storm hits. It is almost startling. The feeling something different is coming. Something that will wash things clean.
Hearing the laughter of children after the sun has gone down and they are still out playing. Curfew has been extended because even the parents don't want to go in yet or spoil the moment.
Having the windows opened at night and hearing the train cars being moved in for the upcoming harvest.
How many come to mind for you?

Testing, one, two

I have had several medical tests of late. After getting really sick in April it seemed to be the prudent thing to do. Now they are done and I am no longer waiting. Thing will be fine. Drugs will do the trick and no more waiting in Dr.'s offices or at clinics or in a little room.
Whew!
One of the situations I oberved through this (and with my father when he was facing treatments and end of life issues)time was the amount of time spent in these places just waiting. And the amount of people doing it. Having our lives controlled by all the appointments and all the waiting. Instills a sense of hopelessness. At least to me.
Surely there has to be a better way.

Good Neighbors

I am in need of assistance. I have a neighbor that has not always appeared to be entirely stable. Stories of Pat go way back in Ellinwood. So those times she has been in her backyard in the middle of the day or night yelling profanely at who knows who or what, we have said it is just Pat being Pat. Those times we have seen her out mowing her lawn and throwing her lawn mower here and there... well, it was just Pat being Pat.
Or the times when we have accidentally mowed an inch over the percieved property line and she digs a trench on her side to keep us from going over that line again. We just shake our heads and think about decorating our side of the demilitarized zome to at least add some humor and light to the sight. We haven't, but we do think about it.
Today, she went over the edge. Pat was mowing her back lawn by the fence. As she came up to sweetpeas we have planted to grow on our fence, she started tearing them off. I yelled out "Hey!" and Stop That!". She did it again! I asked her why she had to do that. Her response was that they were on her side and the police told she could.
Now let me explain something. Her house is in a state of disrepair to say the least. The roof is coming apart. Shrubbery is growing in the eaves that are still attached to the house. The garage is a fire trap. Every time the wind blows (remember this is Kansas and that is all the time), the shingles from the house and garage come into our yard. It is a very sad sight to behold.
Pat does not live there (lives with mama down the street) but she collects mail there.
So what do I do. What will be next?
I worry that something will happen or someone will do something to her house and it will come back on us. She is that unstable.
Any response? Any suggestions?
I am serious about this folks.

Memory

Our phone conversation was progressing normally last night. We chatted about health matters, hers and mine. We talked about the grandkids promotion ceremony in Hutchinson. Watching the young girls looking more and more like young women and the boys obviously lagging behind. We both laughed knowing the time will come when those same boys will so suddenly grow (overnight) into young men.
Then, in the middle of our conversation, she said "I went to the cemetary. I wanted to place flowers on your dad's grave but couldn't find it." She went down all the paths, nothing was familiar.
I found myself holding my breath as she described what had happened.
She couldn't find his grave.
The man she had loved for 23 years.
The memory of his grave was clouded. Sometimes she can find it, but today was not this time. I could hear the tears and frustration in her voice.
I asked if she would like me to take her after I got off work. We could both lay flowers. She for dad, me for my parents.
That would be nice.

I have thought about this overnight.
The memory of his grave slipping out of mind is a good thing. What she remembers is the man she loved so dearly and misses still.
What I remember is being loved so unconditionally and still am.
I will keep the memory of where his grave is and take on those days when she does not remember. It is ok. Her memories are the best ones.

Helicoptering

A teacher at school has a name for parents that oversee every detail of their child's life. We get the warning of "Blackhawk Down!" when certain parents are on premises.
The rest of us start thinking of anything the particular parent could possibly want. No detail is too small.
This week has been full of such parents. It is the last full week of school. Seniors had their last day and the biggest event of all...
The spirit squad list for next year was posted.
The people involved in tallying up the totals scores for the individuals trying out spent a great deal of time adding and readding and wanting to make sure there were absolutely no mistakes. Finally, the list was done and posted.
Calls are anticipated.
Are the scores truly right?
How could the other girls have qualified?
Are we sure?

The girls are ok, or at least will be after the initial sting of not making the squad passes. The mothers?
Well that is another matter.

Should I be worried?

I am sitting in our front room. It is evening, the skies are cloudy and rain is coming our way. I have turned off the lights in the upper part of the house (a friend is encouraging all to turn off at least one unnecessary lights - decrease our dependence on fossil fuel - a very good thing).
Our daughter is texting away in the darkness. George is downstairs and our son is taking a bath.
Baths have become somewhat important in our 15 year old son's life. The bathroom provides wallowing in warm water and a place to have a really good conversation with himself.
I am not making fun of him. Really.
Sam just goes in, runs the water and pretty soon we hear talking. No one gets close enough to the door to make out what he is saying. That would be too much an invasion of privacy.
But there is definitely a convo going on.
I have to smile. It seems to be beneficial and more importantly, none of our business.
I love that boy.

Schedules

We sat here on Saturday evening talking about schedules for the rest of the month. I have to somewhere Monday, KPN has something every night, George has a meeting later in the week, potluck at church Wednesday evening. The biggie coming up is graduation, graduation, graduation.
This was really the last weekend with nothing major going on. Then all hell breaks loose.
I guess what I am getting at is we need to slow down. Looking at all the meetings and the need to schedule down time makes me realize there is too much.
But what do we cut? Any suggestions?

In Praise of Small Schools

This evening we went to watch our kids be recognized for their achievements of the past year and to hear their plans for the coming year. Fi going to college and Sam being recognized for academic achievement and for doing so well in Debate, Forensics, Band and Choir.
This type of ceremony takes place on a larger scale, certainly. What we saw tonight though, does not. All the seniors are recognized.
Kids in non-sport activities are recognized for doing well.
As parents we get the chance to beam when our children are named.
Small schools are important. They need to be upheld. The schools need to be funded. Parents and communities need them.
But enough about that. What I really want to say is that I love my kids. At all levels. Even when one acts like a pretty princess or one acts like a troll.
I love them.

Graduation

My daughter Fiona has 6 1/2 days til she is finished with high school. She is ready. She is also fearful. There are so many things to consider and to choose. Fi knows the first steps are the scariest. They are for anyone.
I have watched her become more sure of herself though. There is a confidence that has not been there before.
Fiona will stumble from time to time. I know she will do well though.
It has taken a bit for me to get here to say these things. I still look at my daughter and feel she should not be at this point. Ready to graduate. My heart believes her to be the little girl standing with her very bestest friend at the door, drenched in mud. Smiling at having rolled in a huge mud puddle of their making.
Who really is graduating?

Not knowing

A week ago I was in the hospital. Not my favorite of places to be. Can't imagine it would be for anyone.
I was sick and we assumed we knew what was going on. After lots of tests, we found we were right.
So now, on the back side of being sick, I still face tests and doctors. I still face not knowing. Let me say that categorically, I don't like that fact.

I am in the hospital. I didn't pay attention to the warning signs my body usually gives me and I ended up sick. Really sick. So, though I dislike hospital stays (and who doesn't?), I allowed the ubiquitous them to put me in. I was led to believe it would be only for 5 hours of IVs. Nope, that was 2 1/2 days ago. Many tests later and listening to Clyde down the hall saying he needs to pee, I am still here.
I honestly thought I could go home today. My body just would not cooperate. They would take my temp and it would refuse to show up normal! What the heck is going on? I felt better! Why could it not show normal? Sigh.
After the nurse practitioner left my room...
Wait, I need to state right here, she is a sweetie. She is smart and knows her stuff. Throw in a huge amount of compassion and you've got Cindy.
Anyway, after the nurse practioner left my room, the tears started to flow. George got the tissues and said that we would take what comes. Everything would be ok. Didn't help. Tears kept coming. Thoughts kept coming.
I wanted to see my dogs.
I wanted a bath. Good God! The world had to know how much I needed a bath!
I wanted to be in my own home, in our backyard with the sun on my face.
I wanted the IV out, I wanted, I wanted, I wanted.... And then it hit me. In the coming weeks I would have several tests coming up. They were going to give me a little red schedule book. Much like older people would be given by other doctors' offices to keep track of when and where they needed to be.
NOOOOOOO!!!
I was getting old!
And irrational.
My brain kicked in and said "Stop It! Get hold of yourself woman!"
George went and asked if I could have access to the local internet service and was given permission.
A nurse arranged for me to have a shower and the IV was moved to a better, more manageable place.
Don't get to see my dogs just yet. But I have hopes for tomorrow.
And, I'm not old.

Thunderstorms

There is thunder and lightening outside. The real first of the season for our little town.
It is one of the reasons I like living in the middle of the country. We have seasons. Very distinct, one from another.
Not at all like real life. Seasons flow from one age to another. Only birth and death are the real definers.
Now this is not a downer. In fact, quite the opposite.
There are times when it would be pretty nice to have clear definitions in what to expect next. But perhaps those gray areas are what make us stronger and able to see more clearly.
Some daughters (not mine) are watching their father get married for the second time. Not something they are at all in favor of.
Nope, nope, nope.
Yet, it is bringing the 2 women much stronger in their relationship with one another and with their own immediate families.
Gray, bordering on dark, bringing on such color.

Lesson

A friend had to make calls to her husband's adult children last night. He has alzheimers and is not doing well. In fact, the next level in the disease has occurred. She remained matter of fact, trying to be realistic and positive all at the same time.
In between calls we talked about the previous call. Memories came back about each. Good ones, not so good ones. She would gear up for the next call. She smoked, drank a soft drink and before the very last call, even had a shot of "Jack". Her spaniel never far from her right hand. Giving calm and love when needed.
Her wish for her husband was that he have one more day of clear thinking. One more day of living.
She is a strong woman. But this is back breaking.
Spirit breaking.
We are all taught through our various faiths we can withstand anything. Nothing is put before us that cannot be handled.
These are all opportunities to learn, to know, to grow beyond.
Watching Carol, makes me wonder what she is to learn, what any of us are to learn from this. She is grieving over his loss. But the loss is in increments. Not immediate.
What are we and, more importantly, she to learn?
A little wisdom would be really appreciated right now God.

Playing with Fire

We sat outside this evening. The fire in the pit made of apple wood and sweet peas. We enjoyed the cool of the evening and warmth of the fire. The difference was delightful. George and I had debated back and forth getting the fire bowl. And finally it was just bought. We have not looked back.
Who knew having a fire could be so delightful?

Hi, I'm Karen. I am a food snob. Oh, I can call myself a foodie or foodist, but I really need to call a spade a spade. I am a food snob. Now the defense offered is the fact I am a really good cook. Can cook gourmet meals and not think anything of it. I get paid to cook for others. A good deal all the way around.
Today, one of my closest friends challenged my snobbishness.
We were chatting while she ate a quick lunch. It has been prom week at our high school and the drama of high school girls has reached a fever pitch. LB is one of the pair of prom sponsors and the stress is taking its toll. The sandwich she ate was not bad. Did not raise major red flags. However, what she chose for dessert...
On her desk was a piece of caramel cake with chocolate frosting. The cake had never been great to begin with - 5 days earlier. I believe this particular piece had been sitting on its paper plate on her desk for several days. I told her not to eat it. Said I could provide chocolate if that was what she was looking for...
When she tried to cut into the square with her fork, the resistance to the fork caused the plate to bend.
How wrong is that?
She ate it all. I was afraid for well being.
Well, LB lives. I think I need to take real cake or dessert in to both her and the other sponsor. Maybe the administration too.
They need a treat after this weekend of promerama drama.

Prom

My daughter, a senior in high school, has her final prom this weekend. Because of an arrangement made last year, she will be attending in a nearby town. Her beloved came to hers last year with the agreement they would go to his this year.
All the gee gaws and such have been seen to. A very modest budget was kept. Fi did well.
In working at the high school, I see what is being spent each year on prom and after prom. More than I spent on my house! I can't help but think there has to be a better way.
A close friend of mine is one of the sponsors for prom this year. She and another adult have been running themselves ragged getting ready. They have seen to it that this prom will be beautiful but way under budget in comparison to other years.
Due to a variety of reasons, there will some kids unable to go and they are peeved to say the least. These students feel entitled to prom. To the money that is spent.
Is it just time to stop? How do we get these kids past the feeling of entitlement? How do we get the parents past that feeling as well?
Any suggestions?

If it sounds too good to be true...

Jackie called me this evening. Straight up 6:00. Dinner time for us and for most people.
She was calling about the $500 grocery/gas giveaway I had entered on April 9. I had not entered.
Was my name not ----?
Um, no, that is my maiden name.
Oh, you mean ------? And you live at ---?
Yes, but I did not sign up for anything.
Perhaps someone else signed up for you? They knew you would love to win something like this.
Did I win?
Well,no, that drawing is not until July 4. Independance Day for our great country (c an't you here the Stars and Striped in the background?). But, you have won this month a free carpet cleaning for one room and free carpet cleaning supplies. We would love to come and demonstrate. When would be a good time?
Ah, well I have wood floors and won't be needing your services. For that matter, I highly doubt anyone in my family would sign me up for something with out my permission. They just know better.
Perhaps, you should go to your next caller and perhaps you should try a different tact. This one did not work.

My daughter looked on with great amusement.
I looked at her and said, "That is how it is done."

Green Glass

Due to timing and lack of motivation, the Easter bunnies never made it out to the shelves or cabinets. The blown decorated eggs and little baskets just didn't show themselves. I was too busy with work, cooking and everyday life to find them and rearrange the living room and kitchen to greet the spring with rabbits.
Easter Sunday came and went.
Today is the first Sunday after Easter. After church, we came home and went to work. Well, sort of. First a nap for me and the Sunday puzzle for George.
Anyway we went to work. He outside and me inside. The green depression glass has come out to greet the world for spring and summer.
We started the weeding process and the mowing and looking for bedding plants. Had our first dinner in the pergola for the season and the windows are wide open.
I realize there will be days when I will wish for cooler days. For now, this is pretty wonderful.

I am thinking about cooking again. It was just Thursday when I cooked for 120. I thought I would never want to look at another piece of chicken or piece of onion again. I was tired and cranky. Even went out to eat that night. And then it happened. I looked at what I was eating and what George was eating and said to myself "I can do this and better."
I'm back.
Just ordered a book on Greek cooking. Oregano and Marjoram are going in the garden this year. Along with the basil and thyme.
There will be eggs in the morning.
Life is good.

Locavore

I cooked for a lot of people today.
Correction: George and I cooked for a lot people today. While I did the baking and mixing and organizing, there is no way I could have done it without my husband.
The count was about 120. A good crowd and the food was appreciated.
An idea was proposed and whether or not something comes of it remains to be seen, but it has started me thinking.
I was asked whether or not I would consider doing cooking demonstrations, possibly filmed, using local foods. Highlighting what Kansas has to offer, especially during the summer and fall months when farmers' markets are in great demand.
I was flattered and said yes to considering, but, like I said, it started thinking. Why can't we buy more locally? Do people in this area really care where their food comes from? George grows a garden and there is nothing better than bringing vegetables and herbs in from the garden and using them immediately. Bringing something home from the market on Thursday evenings in Ellinwood is a delight. You get to catch up on what is going on in town and get something to cook with. Talk about your win/win situation!
We have found that even our local grocery store stocks some locally grown produce when able. With thesmall packing plant at the edge of town, there is a good chance you have a good knowledge of hoof to table as well.
Know where your food comes from. Know who grows it.
Make that connection. Make that difference.

Cooking

I love to cook. This week could challenge that emotion. I did breakfast Sunday morning, dinner that night and 120 on Thursday. I am beginning to wonder what I was thinking.
The really perplexing thing of it all?
On Saturday (giving myself a day) I will start thinking about what to cook next.

In Slow Motion

George and I were having a really nice chat with our children this evening. One of those discussions where you know the kids are actually listening and contributing. The points are getting through. We talked about doing for others for no other reason than that is what is to be done. No remuneration, no praise. Just a need that is to be filled. Gave great causes as examples. Doctors Without Borders, Habitat for Humanity. That kind of thing.
Like I said, a great discussion.
I had to bake and got up to go to the next room but still within earshot. Our oldest was in the kitchen with me. Our son went to his room and Fi stayed in the living room with her dad.
That is when things went into slow motion. George uttered the fatal words to Fi. "You know what you need to where rather than that type of jean?" I swear, I could hear her eyes roll. This is the daughter that will listen to her dad and smile sweetly and agree and then go on and do her own thing regardless. She does it with me too. But I knew the jeans discussion would go no where fast. I tried to stop it by shaking my head in his direction and was greeted with a quizical look. I tried to say something to redirect the conversation and nothing really came out.
Our oldest beside me looked at her dad and stated if he had said something like that to her, she would have said something he would not have liked.
Yeah, that helped the matter.
Fi tried to say the type of jean he was describing did not exist for her. George told her the pockets were down too low (they are, but...). Finally, the moment was over and he said "Never mind" and shook his head. Fiona just smiled sweetly and went on her merry way to Fiona world. Cait just shook her head and walked off. Sam walked out of his room, looked around and then retreated.
I think he knew.

Anniverary of a Sort

Today is Palm Sunday. The beginning of Holy Week. I cannot come to this day each year without remembering 17 years ago to the day, a young 13 year old girl came into our family and stayed for 5 1/2 years. Her family had disintegrated around her and no one was there to help her pick up the pieces. What she had seen and experienced in her short life most people don't see in a lifetime.
That particular Lenten season I had been praying that God put before me what he wanted me to do and to allow me the courage to do it. Then Palm Sunday came and there was his answer.
I have to tell you it scared the pee out of me. I had not handled teenagers to that point and did we ever get a crash course!
I have prayed that prayer again this season. I had been talking via email and Facebook with that same girl, who is now a beautiful woman, for about 3 months or so. This last Thursday I heard voice again on the phone. This was not a cry for help (except her 2 year old boy is in his terrible twos and who doesn't want some help there). It was just a phone call so very long in the making. I talked with her the next day and the next. I have seen pictures of children. She has called me mom again.
Thanks be....
Where is the need that needs to be met. I know the answer will be coming and it will probably scare the pee out of me again. I just hope I will be allowed the courage to meet it.

Niagara

My husband and I traveled to Buffalo, New York this past weekend. His sister had passed away and we were there to celebrate her life with her family. Beryl had been suffering and when she died, the sons and daughter knew a healing had taken place. Beryl was better.
In making the arrangements, I went through the different websites, explored all the costs and finally arranged a package deal for flight, car and hotel. I congratulated myself on getting a good deal and while we would be flying at ungodly times of morning, the trip should go off very smoothly.
I maintained that feeling until I went to pick up my car. That procedure went without a hitch. It was when I went to look at the address of the hotel that I felt as though I had been punched squarely in the solar plexus.
You see, George had recommended we stay at the Holiday Inn on Niagara Falls Avenue in Buffalo. The funeral dinner would be there. Family from out of town and state would be staying there. It was also one of the hotels offered as part of the package. I clicked, hit submit and away we go.
Then comes the oh poop moment.
I saw the address. It was a Holiday Inn alright. On Buffalo Avenue in Niagara Falls. See the difference? Yeah, I did too. It was 15-20 miles down the road from the one preferred. Are you thinking I should just try to change the reservations? George did. So did I. Until it dawned on us that at the same time we were there, the NCAA BB Tournament for the Northeast was taking place in Buffalo for the weekend. Throw in the mix a little league hockey tournaent in town and switching reservations became problematical. Actually, switching became down right impossible.
So on to Niagara Falls we went. I felt really bad. I felt like I had let my husband down. He would not be able to spend as much time with his family, it would be more mileage and time spent....
We checked in and went to our room. There was a huge picture window in the room. George opened the curtains, looked out and said "I think we are staying."
There they were. The Falls.
They were and are so incredibly beautiful. And that was our view morning, noon and night.
It was a good trip.
I think Beryl made my hand choose that hotel. She knew.

Thank you Beryl.

In passing...

My husband's sister passed away yesterday afternoon. She would have been 90 on April 1st of this year. The death was a blessing for her. She had been in an extreme amount of pain and this is the healing that was needed.
After learning of the death and while George was on the phone with his niece, I went to work getting the plane tickets, hotel and car reservations.
Did you know booking at the last minute can mean big profit for these entities. Yikes!
But... The arrangements are made. We are leaving everyone here and flying to Buffalo.
We will see family and George will be able to say good bye. This was his oldest sibling. He has never known life without her and this brings mortality a little closer to the front door.
This type of thing always does.
Pray for him.
As a side note, point of information if you will, I will be concentrating very hard while taking off, flying and landing. I see it as my duty to all passengers on the plane to help keep the plane in the air. Physics be damned, it does not "look" like that plane should stay in the air.

Spring Cleaning

Spring cleaning has begun, God help us all.
I started with my middle child's room. Since the floor had not been seen in quite some time and there seemed to be some questions as to whether or not a dresser still resided in the room, it needed to be first. Add in to the mix she is gone until late Wednesday night, so I have free reign....
Well, you get the idea.
I went into the room yesterday afternoon and have through the day, today. Still some word to be done, but a great deal has been done.
I could not believe the amount of trash taken out of her room! Plus the clothing she will never, ever wear again. Amazing!
But it was the beads. The beads. The blankety blank beads!! Fi and her sister had gotten into making jewelry, hemp, beads and the like. A nice hobby we had encouraged. Creativity is something we really push in this family. Anything that causes a person to think beyond the ordinary. But the beads....
There were some big ones, but it was the itty, bitty ones that stick in your feet or escape when sweeping. They were everywhere. I tried picking up most of them. Really I did. I got to the point where it was futile and I just did not give a damn anymore. Everything got swept up and dumped into the growing trash pile.
Fi does not know what I have done. I figured she will find it soon enough.
I will let her thank me later on.
After the screaming has stopped.

Seasonal

I just viewed my blog. Something a person should do once in a while. Just to remind themselves of what is going on. Scanning the screen I came to the bottom. A link I had put on the blog sometime ago stated there was nothing in season in Kansas at this time.
This struck me as funny. Irrationally funny. The type of funny that will crop up throughout the day.
Nothing in season in Kansas in the middle of March?
Is that even applicable anymore given the produce you can find in the grocery stores? Oh, nice garden stuff in the summer and early fall is wonderful, but "seasonal"?
Hmmm. Brings me to the next thought. Have the perpetuators of this link seen the amount of skunk road kill on the side of the road lately? The skunks are in "season" and they be thinking one thing and one thing only. Maybe they should be listed as seasonal.

Spring Break

It is Monday morning of SPRING BREAK!
That needed to be put in caps. This is an important time of year and for anyone involved in education in any way, a very necessary time of year.
So, while many are in their cars hurrying to some far away destination, I am sitting in my favorite chair, about to drink my third cup of coffee and a dog at my feet (insert sigh of contentment here).
My husband wanted to make a to do list for the week. His thinking is sound in this endeavor. If we don't make the list, things won't get done.
But what is wrong with this picture? I was not long up and only on my first cup of coffee. I was reading the paper, primarily the editorials on education funding, and I was not in plan mode. Not one bit.
For that matter, conversation seemed to be rather unnecessary to me as well. I give George a lot of credit. He wrote several things down and was able to elicit responses from me on some of them. But he knew when to give up with a sigh and go on to something else which did not need my input, in another room, on another floor.
It takes me a while.
So for those of you scurrying hither and yon to make the most of your time off... Good for you.
My third cup of coffee is calling me.

House Divided

My husband and I just finished watching the Big 12 championship. We are not real big into sports. I realize this comes as no surprise, but the Kansas teams (note the plural) were up against one another. Both teams are really good and it promised to be an excellent game and boy, did they deliver.
So, in watching the game, we cancelled our going to a jazz concert. We opened a very nice pinot noir and popped pop corn. We just don't fit the round balling stereotype.
My husband, having sent 4 kids to K State, rooted for the cats. I love the Hawks.
My team won.
We toasted the winning team and vowed to watch periodically through the legendary "March Madness".
I believe we have a lovely petit syrah to accompany at least 2 games. And an absolutely wonderful reisling for the final game, match, set.... whatever.

Letters

I just did something I have never done before. I wrote to the President of the United States.
I asked for help for our school system. The state does not seem to listen, maybe someone else will.
As of today, 7 teachers have been notified they will not be back next year. These are good teachers. These are friends. They have families.
Our students will suffer from these cuts. We will suffer from the holes created.
So I wrote. And I will continue to write. I will make calls.
Will you?

Scholarships

My middle daughter is applying for scholarships for college. She is not having a good time.
Having to read all the instructions and follow them at the same time is not her idea of fun. Add to the good times the fact the deadlines are fast approaching and governmental forms need to be filled out.
Again, she is not having a good time.
Now, she hits me up with all this after I get home after a 12 hour day including Parent/Teacher conferences. My patience unnecessary frenetic deadlines is not strong anyway. Today the patience quotient is pretty low. As in zero.
Fiona is in her room weeping and filling out forms. I am in the living room waiting to see said forms and refraining from saying all the mean non parent of the year type things floating through my brain.
Eventually she will come out and I will be nicer.
We will get through this.
By God!

Chocolate may not solve, but it sure helps

A friend of mine called me from the road tonight. Now, put aside the fact she was talking on a cell phone while driving, and follow me.
She told me she called because I would understand.
L said it had been a long day and before getting on the road for home, she needed gas and chocolate. Not necessarily in that order.
She got the gas and most importantly, the chocolate. Once on the road, the chocolate needed to be unwrapped. Here lies the problem. Once unwrapped, and while the woman was driving, the chocolate escaped her grasp, bounced off her belly, and fell on the floor of her car.
Here is where I come in.
L called me, knowing I would understand. Knowing of my belief that chocolate can make the world a better place in the time of turmoil.
The chocolate was on the floor. A car behind her made it impractical to put on the brakes and to pull over. There was also the possibility if she bent over to get the wonderful substance she might spur an abdominal charlie horse, and , well, L was having none of that. Just wasn't going to give that a second thought.
As we chatted and laughed, the car behind finally passed. L was able to pull over and get her chocolate.
Life was a little better.

I should be...

I should be grateful, really I should.
I came home late Saturday night and found a kitchen full of dirty dishes. Keep in mind, I left a clean kitchen after cooking Saturday afternoon for a reception. A heavy sigh and decision to do the dishes before church in the morning, I went to bed. The dishes bred like bunnies in the dark and there were even more Sunday morning. But I did them, left clean kitchen and went off to be holy. Or something like that, but there was definitely a clean kitchen. I returned home and found more dishes. Arrrrggh!
Now, I had to do more dishes before cooking for yet another function, and then clean up after myself. Another heavy sigh, a look toward heaven and on I went to said function.
When we arrived late afternoon, our oldest was creating a dinner masterpiece. George and I were not going to eat, but everyone else was and there was much chatter and laughter. Can't argue with that or even remotely grumble. I looked at my kitchen and then at my kids. I stated the amount of times I had done dishes over the past few days and that alot of it was due to their grazing. I wanted the dinner and prep dishes done and my kitchen clean.
The directive was repeated and met with groans of understanding. I descended to the basement to be out of sight.
I could hear throughout the evening, my son and daughters in the kitchen bargaining with one another who would and could do what. I did not, repeat not, intervene.
This morning I found a relatively clean kitchen. Oh the floor is sticky from making juice and the thought that some of it went on the floor obviously escaped whoever made it. The table and stove were overlooked and there were still some items left from the night before. So, I should be grateful they did the overwhelming majority of the dishes.
I should be...
But, man! When will they see all of the kitchen and not stick to letter of the directions? When will they see or feel the sticking to the floor?
Stop it! Take a breath.
It will happen.
I just I hope I will live to see it.

Waiting to be Invited.

George and I went to the play, "Waiting to be Invited" this afternoon. A play focusing on the lunch counter sit ins. The play was well done and one needing to be done here in central Kansas. Not everyone remembers those days of civil rights activism.
I think we are missing something by not remembering. We become complacent in our daily lives.
So I challenge you to remember. Remember a time, make a difference. I don't know what mine will be or how I will do it. Opportunities abound everyday, we just have to watch and listen.
Is this a repeat blog? I think I have written something similar before. Hmmm. Maybe I ought to remember. Maybe I ought to listen.

A Boy and His Dog

Yesterday was not an easy day. In fact it was downright hard. We are dealing with budget cuts (all of education is) and the middle school students are at heathen level. Spring Break cannot come soon enough.
God must have known. An incredible moment was given to us.
About a week and a half ago, a young man at our school posted on Facebook his dog was missing. He continued to post and to look. All his family was looking. They lived in the country and were beginning to fear the worst.
Yesterday the boy's mom called and asked to have her son meet her outside the school. She had found the dog. He had traveled to a farm near Hudson and the farmer took him to the vet the next time he went to the big city. It just happened be the vet this dog was used to.
So chain of events led the vet to call the mom and the mom calling us. She wanted to bring the dog to the school to see the boy.
Well, we all wanted to see this reunion, so she brought the dog inside and we called the boy to the office.
Four women and a dog waited. It was worth the wait. The look on the boy's face and the reaction of the dog was worthy of a movie and hanky moment. All were weeping. The dog had it's paws around the boy's neck and the boy was ecstatic. They had each other again.

Amazonian

I went to Amazon the other day and started adding to my shopping cart.
It started with looking at various types of music recommended based on past purchases. That looked good and so did one of those.... From there, I went on to movies. The ones I never got to the cinema to see and I don't really want to wait until they come out on tv.
And I know George wanted yeast that can only be bought through this site. And cookware, yeah! That looked good too!

I looked at the cart this morning and thought, "My God woman! Were you on some sort of drinking binge?"

The shopping cart is now empty.

I think I need to give Amazon up for Lent.

Be careful out there

As we raise our children, one of things we have to get across is right or wrong, you can be judged merely by who you hang around with or by what you say. As I say this, I have to remember to keep it ever before me as well, and it falls into my belief that I am not a judge.
So reading a letter to the editor this morning from someone decrying what was written about their group earlier in the month. They were painted with what I believe to be with pretty accurate colors. The letter's author disagrees. She felt just because some whom they are associated with spew remarks about the landscape that inflammatory, her group should not be lumped into the same category.
Hmmmm.
Does not seem to deter the writer from doing the same in maligning the government or anyone in suppport. Does not seem to deter those in her coalition from maligning those of a different ethnicity or religion.
But the author does not wish her coalition to be judged on the appearance of its spectrum of membership or affilitaion.
Ah.

Sundays at home

It is Sunday morning and the ice and snow kept us from traveling miles to church. We chose, instead, to watch a favored Sunday morning show. George made pancakes and the morning was slow and warm.
I think we need these types of mornings every now and then.
Just step back. No demands. The batteries are recharged and yet our brains and bodies are just relaxed.
Oh, I could get riled about the commentary in today's paper. I could type up a letter to the editor about the state of education, the narrow mindedness of local editorialists and pastors, the lack of focus on those in need. But for now, my heart and brain are just relaxing and listening.
It feels nice. It feels needed.
Here's to Sunday at home.
Hope yours was a good one as well.

Parenting from a Different Perspective

I really try to understand where someone I do not agree with is coming from in their perspective. Lately, there have been some I just cannot for the life of me wrap my mind around.
What will benefit the kid if the parent lies for him or her? What is being taught? Where is the ethic that needs to be instilled?
I work in a school setting and it seems to have become more apparent this year than in the past. I don't get it. We all worry about some of these kids and how they will get along later in life. Will a kid grow up without and ethic of honesty be able to really be happy? Or will the life be a lie?
Things that make you go hmmm.

Things that go bump in the night

My youngest daughter and I like to watch Ghost Hunters together. Get a little creeped out and giggle. There is lot shown we have no explanation for and neither do the people with the show.
It isn't as though we are watching to be scared or to be convinced in ghosties and ghoulies. Quite honestly, we both believe there are some things in this world not defined by a single explanation.
We watch because it is just fun and takes the edge off the unknown. Still unknown, but we can talk. Brings us closer over nothing (sometimes literally). Fiona and I don't need to have "Mother - Daughter talks" to be close. We just are.
Pretty cool.

Ash Wednesday

Tonight we celebrated Shrove Tuesday at our church. Some came in costume ala Mardi Gras style and others just came as they were. In past years we have had pancakes and sausage or other years we carried on a Cajun theme. The men of our church were do the cooking. Maybe that happened, maybe it didn't, but a good time would be had by all. This year there was still a gathering, but with a different perspective. We had leftovers from the funeral dinner of this past weekend. Food was good, but it was different, no doubt about it.
Believe it or not, I think this was all a good thing. Going into Ash Wednesday, should be a leveling matter. To me, and it is just my interpretation, the imposition makes us all on the same playing field. From ashes you have come and to ashes you shall return. In doing so, it makes us responsible for one another.
You know, that "what you do for the least of these, you do for me."? Yes, that one. The ashes remind us what we are to be about.
I hope I can keep that in front of me.

Things that make you go hmmmm.

I wrote a letter to the editor of our local paper. Sent it by email on Sunday morning. It was printed in the Wednesday edition. Ok, not a problem.
In this morning's (one day later), Thursday issue, was a response from a local pastor who dropped his title for his letter.
The very next day....
Hmmmm.
Should I be paranoid?

No, No, I Really Shouldn't

I really shouldn't read books. Books make me think and then apply what I have read to other articles written by individuals supposedly in the same field.
Ok,ok, I will stop making vague allusions and get to the point.
I am reading a book of sermons and homilies be a noted bishop. I then read a letter in the paper from someone with the title Pastor in front of his name. Even though both individuals work within the clergy field, working on spreading the word of God, the two could not be more diverse. The bishop is promoting ministering to the "little ones", the "least of these". Feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, tending the sick.... You know the passages. Something like those very lines are found in every religion, contrary to some folks belief. The pastor is promoting an anti-islamic stance and seems to be even encouraging an aggressive stance against those who do not believe as he does. Taking passages from the bible out of context and molding them to bolster his platform of isolation and bigotry.
I believe in what the bishop is promoting. We have to work (and it is work) to feed, to clothe, to tend and more importantly, to change.
Write, listen, speak and work.
Start now.

Today, I am thankful for my kids. Yup, they may drive stark raving mad some days but I am thankful for who the people they are right this instant. My kids know I am not going to lie or cover up for them. Don't even think of asking and there are times I am sure they would really like me to.
After dealing with parents refusing to believe little Johnny or Susie could do anything wrong and the rest of the world is picking on them... I give thanks for my knowingly human kids.
I give thanks I am their mom - not trying to achieve "bestest friend" status. The kids probably give thanks for that too.
I love them.
That's it.

Getting what you ask for

I received a love letter. An honest to BY GOD love letter. It just makes me giggle and tingle all in one fell swoop.
Now let me back up. My husband writes a weekly column for 5 small newspapers. Every Sunday afternoon he sits down to write. Prior to that, the ritual is for George to ask what I think he should write about. This week with Valentine's coming up I said he needed to write me a love letter for the papers.
I was kidding.
Well, maybe not completely....
What I received was wonderful. It won't be in the papers. Kinda glad about that one.
Another actual column was written and sent on.
But my letter, all wives should get one just like it. So should the husbands.
Every day. Not just Valentine's. Let'em know they are loved.

I have my morning coffee beside me, dogs at my feet and the house is beautifully quiet. The papers are read and no real demand for the day has started. One of the best times of the day.
George and I occasionally get a whole day just like this. Usually the weather is not conducive to being outs.ide but the kids have other places to be and we are not a part of the plan. Those are the days we plan. Plan to paint, plan to expand the garden (growing more peppers than we could ever hope to eat), plan to cook and plan to go - anywhere. Not that some of these plans will come to fruition or that we are setting ourselves up for disappointment if we don't do all that is set out. Not the case at all. It is just out loud thinking between the two of us.
If just one thing transpires because of these talks, well that is icing on the cake. For now, plans are painting the kitchen, new types of squash in the garden. New petunias and geraniums out front. Santa Fe in June.
A lovely way to start the day.

Start Writing

Start writing now. I like blogs and I like writing when I get the time. The time does not come as easily as I would like, but when it does, writing can be a joy.
For the life of me, after reading this morning's Great Bend Tribune, it becomes painfully clear the writing for some is not joyful at all. It is bigoted, harmful and detrimental to the public it is intended for in Midwest Kansas.
So, my request to any who might read this. Write what you believe. Send it in to any local papers. Please encourage tolerance, compassion and reason.
Please.

The thing you can't have

I wrote that our stove needs help. In this house, that kind of event can cause life altering trauma. Really.
I love to cook. It helps me relax. It helps me focus. The first thing I thought of when George said, yup, we need a repairman (6:00 in the evening when one is not available), was all the food I wanted to make that I had not even considered 15 minutes before. In fact, our oldest was in the process of cutting up veggies to use in a chili she was making for the family. I wasn't even doing dinner.
Didn't matter. The stove was sick. "Oh no! What are we going to do? Oh the humanity!"
The repairman will be here this afternoon. I work during the day. All should be well. I will even eat lunch at school. I won't have to look at the wounded and feel its pain.
Perhaps I need therapy for this?

It is February. Traditionally known as the "F" month in our household. Tradition held true to form today.
Our stove, only 1 year plus a couple months old, blew a connection, leaving a charred place on the wall behind and a melted connection at the back of the stove itself. Lovely.
The only thing to do is have the stove fixed.
I don't mean to be pessimistic, but what is next?

Budgets

Our USD is facing budget cuts, again. Along with all the other school districts in the state, we are having to cut because of mismanagement at a state level and an ongoing face of the country right now. Staff will be cut and duties shifted to others with no additional remuneration.
Lovely.
Is this a bit of a rant? Yup.
But, I have a job. Some can't say that. And I can see my kids every day. I can see my husband at lunch. I can be with my family when they need me and it is ok. When my father died, my coworkers picked up when I could not. I have had kids (not my own) rely on me to be there when they are having a bad day.
Hmm.
The perks still out weigh the cons.

Stubborn

A little over a week ago we had a fog and frost all rolled up into one. I warned our son as he walked out the door to school to be careful, it was slick. I warned my husband, too. Thirty minutes after doing so, Fiona and I walked out the door, down the block and just enjoying a little mother/daughter chit chat.
So, it is pretty obvious at this point what happened. Yup, down I went and yes, the first thing I did after moving was to look around to see who might have seen. Then I realized that I HURT!!. Man! I have fallen before but this hurt. But, more importantly, I needed to get to the house and change out of dirty clothes. I shelved the hurt and got dressed and then went to work. Then I realized that parts of my body really smarted. Everything moved so I thought I was good to go.
Now, I am not so sure. Ther are places left still hurting, lumps still in existance that should have gone down by this time.
Do I go to a doctor? Do I have an injury that should have been looked at to begin with but was too stubborn to spend the money?
Maybe things will disappear by tomorrow, or maybe Tuesday. Yeah, I can wait another day. No problem.

Enough is Enough

I believe I will be letting my subscription to the local paper run itself out, never to be renewed. The barrage of narrow mindedness, let alone the inability to put two words together accurately, has finally taken the toll necessary for me to say "ENOUGH".
I love a good debate. Nothing better than hearing both sides of an issue spoken intelligently. Really.
This is not happening in the Great Bend Tribune. I want to continue to make a contribution to consideration and deliberation on issues. However, I don't believe it can happen in that particular forum.
If someone knows where it can take place, let me know.
For now I will speak on blogs and in other papers.
Period.

Retreat!

I have am in a lazy, hermit-like streak right now. The desire to retreat from the world for a little while is really strong. Not that I want to stop work or stop caring. That is not it at all. I just want a short space of time to just "be".
I say all this fully knowing that there so many others with a great deal more on their plate and dealing quite well (at least that is the impression I get). Makes me feel guilty in what I am feeling.
But there it is.
Just a little time.
Sigh.

My grandson is beginning to put words together those around can understand. Very few mind you, but he is beginning. It has made me start thinking about communication in general.
How we watch one another so closely some time. Comparing body language to actual words. Actual words matched to actions.
My husband says I watch to closely sometimes. I take a heavy sigh to mean there is discontent. An aloof look by my 14 year old sign as an attitude of disdain - ok, I might be right on that one.
But, language comes in so many forms, even in silence.
Watching the toddler jabbering away, oblivious to everyone seems to me to be blissful. He is not concerned by the body language around him. The heavy sighs mean nothing. The look of disdain is wasted on the little boy. He just looks up at the 14 year old, smiles and knows beyond all doubt a heart will melt.
Would that we could all be that way.

Comments

Just wanted to say thank you to whoever posted a comment. It made my day.

Words

The other day I had the opportunity to go to a Borders book store. I love that place. It ranks right up there next to a Penzey Spice store and a cooking store (Cook's Nook in McPherson comes to mind). Anyway, I wandered around with my sister and as we did, we chatted about the different books catching our interest. Cook books were high on our lists. Both of us cook and books that deal with anything in the kitchen are a weakness.
This time it was not a cookbook that really caught my attention and has stayed with me.
Nope. It was something much different.
The book was titled "The "F" Word".
I do not remember the author and I apologize to him and to anyone else believing I should.
I also will not go into the actual text of the book. It could really offend some readers.
However, I am going to say this book had me crying in the middle of the store from laughing so hard. It deals with all things "F". For some, it would be offensive and I am sure some parts would offend me. Yet there were some words and connotations sooooo funny.
If you get the chance, scan it. Maybe even buy it. It just might have the word you hav always looked for but didn't know truly existed.

Senioritis

My middle daughter turned her senior pictures in for the yearbook. We had disagreed somewhat about which one would go where. When it comes right down to it, I think my problem with all of the senior picture discussion is that I don't want Fiona to be a senior just yet.
Her mother is not ready to see her walk across and get that diploma. She should still be a little girl.
Fiona tells me regularly she is not. My mind accepts the fact, but my heart cannot.
Not yet.

Thoughts

The last couple of days I have been spouting against religious bigotry. There have been articles in the paper that spurred my rant. The worst came last night and this morning. After the horrendous earthquake in Haiti and the massive devastation that has resulted, a noted fundamental preacher in the United States declared the Haitians deserved the earthquake for making a pact with the devil 200 years before.
This is supposedly a "Christian" man.
I do not believe that for one moment.
I once knew a Jewish man whose parents sent he and his brother to England and then to the States shortly before the Nazis reached their town. Sig never saw his parents again. They died in a concentration camp. Sig and his brother came to know the kindness of many Christians and Jews. I remember saying "I like Christians. Nice people. Just wish there were more of them." Meaning, he knew some people saying they were Christian, but their actions stated differently.
I guess we need to work towards making the difference.

Last night we watched "Independent Lens". A favorite for George and I. This particular show was on elderly people in a chorus presenting a show on an annual basis. The show they were working on was comprised of punk and rock. The premise was odd. No doubt about it. It worked.
Lyrics of today apply to the people of all ages and challenges our perceptions of who should listen to what music. Not all people over 70 listen to classical or Lawrence Welk (no the two are not synonomous). It also shed light on the reality of life and death. Made all involved, both in the show or the watching of it, come to grips with the fragile hold we have within our lives. That with all the control we would like to have, we don't have that much and it is something I needed to be reminded.

Under Attack

This morning I read a letter to the editor in our local paper. It was lamenting the fact we were no longer a "Christian" nation and we were under attack from the Muslim world. The author lamented the lack of what he felt to be justified uprising against Islam for a foiled one man terrorist attack on a plane over Detroit on Christmas day. He also stated we were being drawn into the Muslim agenda to convert us all.
I cannot help but shake my head in wonder at the blindness of it all. This so called man of God used passages from the gospel of Matthew to back up his assertions. Is he really serious?
I do not take his accusations lightly. The man believes and is trying to spread his bigotry to one and all.
The only thing that is worse is the fact the local paper prints this and that the editor apparently agrees in his writings.
I will be writing to the paper in response. Someone needs to stand up and say no to the continued deliberate mis-information and spread of religious bigotry.
I hope others will join me.

Daycare

My grandson will be going to daycare on Monday for the first time ever. His mother will be attending college classes and he will be attending the daycare on campus. I don't think Cait knows what might hit on Monday when she turns to leave for class.
Maybe I am wrong.
I don't think so.
I remember when I left her with Darlene. A wonderful, grandmotherly woman who doted upon Caitlin as she would her own. A perfect place for my daughter. I knew that.
Didn't matter.
I wept all the way to work and had to sit in the car for approximately 15 - 20 minutes to pull it together.
I called every hour to make sure all was well. Thank God Darlene was patient. Cait did well. Her mother? Not so much.
It took a week to get used to the idea, the fact. Cait and Darlene took maybe an hour and life was grand.
But at least she will be close. She can check. She can hold him and know he has not forgotten her.

Epiphany

We took everything off the Christmas tree tonight. Tomorrow the tree will go out the door and the living room will be rearranged for the remainder of winter. This the first day/night of Epiphany and it is to celebrate the light of God going into the world. Yet, I always feel a pang of sadness with this first day. Christmas leaves the house.
I know, we can keep the spirit inside of us, but it just isn't the same. I like some of the trappings. I like the light of the tree when all the other lights are off. I like the feel of the house when the tree is up.
No, I am not going to follow the recommendation of some and keep a live tree in the house all year. The house just isn't big enough. They are an unattractive shade of black or gray in no time.
So, I guess I have to find an alternative. Something to bring the light back into the house.
Any suggestions?

Cold

It was the first day back to school today. The building had been shut down for 2 weeks. 2 weeks where the weather was brutally cold and schools had their furnaces set at the lowest setting or not turned on at all.
It was cold! The type that makes you hunker into yourself. Trying to keep any heat your body makes. The type where coats and gloves are kept on all day and space heaters run to no avail.
It was cold.
My husband came and got me early. My body just could not take any more. Truly.
The remedy has been a hot bath, hot tea and warm sockies. Possibly early bedtime with lots of blankets and a heating pad.
I know the state does not have money to give to the schools. The schools do not have money to up the heat quotient. But damn!
It was cold!

Parenting continually

Our oldest wants her son to talk. He is is 15 months old and can jabber with the best of them. She wants real words. So we talked about ways she can encourage speech and word recognition. Cait listened and, I think, will apply some of the things we discussed.
Afterwards I looked back at when she and her siblings learned to talk. When her sister started, she never stopped. Her brother's favorite word was "actually". Still is for that matter.
Language and communicating has evolved in this family. Certainly we talk - always. There is texting, emailing and sometimes yelling at full voice. (We won't go into that last one right now).
Sometimes the words come as gifts.
I got such a gift today.
A foster daughter of ours wrote to me this morning. She wanted to let me know she was a good person and a good mom. That she felt blessed to have had us as parents. I sat here and wept. That she is a good person does not surprise me. She was strong. Had to be. She knew she would make it in this life. But to have her write as she did....
The gift of language is presented in so many ways. We learn those ways all through our lives. Not just when we are young. Sometimes when we are middle aged and sometimes when we are old.

2010 (Not the movie version)

I started 3 weeks ago thinking of goals for 2010. Not resolutions. Something negative to me in setting a resolution. Like I might be setting myself up for failure. So goal setting it was.
My husband and I have always looked at the year in review and then set goals for the coming year. He is good at the goal setting. Me? Not so much.
But here goes.
I want to be healthy. Healthier. Losing weight would be great - Lord knows I need to. But setting a weight loss amount? Let's go for healthy. Reducing stress? Hmmmm. Let's go for learning to relax a little more frequently.
Write more? Now that is definitely a goal that does not need any modification. Very doable.
Daily state something I am thankful for? Start right now. I am thankful for being warm (dogs wrapped around my feet).
So, here I go.
2010.