Deanna got to shake the hand of President George W. Bush. It was quite miraculous, really. There were more than 7,000 people crammed into an Auditorium. Deanna and my parents were near the back until Deanna spotted several seats in the front row of the 3rd balcony. After checking out the information with a Secret Service agent, Mom and Dad made their way there.
From that vantage point, they could see the railing where the President would be walking. When he arrived, he came in at the far left and seemed to be making his way towards the right. My father asked a Secret Service agent if they could squeeze Deanna in at the railing and was encouraged to try. At the very end of the railing, just in front of the door, Deanna and Grandma found a spot. Daddy stood behind them. The President began coming their direction. Deanna leaned as far over the railing as she could to reach him. He walked over to her, shook her hand, and said, "Be careful, there. You might fall." Then he walked out the side door and was gone. Hers was the last hand he shook, and he spoke to her.
She was thrilled. Out of that over 7,000 person crowd, he shook less than 50 hands, one of which was Deanna's. Her teacher had her walk to every desk in the classroom today and shake hands with EVERY student with the same hand the President shook. Deanna thought it was quite funny.
Another miracle - they had to be cleared by the Secret Service in advance, so my father had submitted their names as well as Deanna's and her social security number. Once their background investigation was complete, the Republican Party Office contacted us to tell us they had Deanna's tickets. Daddy picked them up on Saturday, but forgot to take them with him yesterday. There was NO WAY to verify that he had been approved by the Secret Service without his tickets. It looked very doubtful they would even be able to get through the doors, but my father went to a Kiosk they had set up and asked to speak to the Aide to a Congressional Candidate who is a friend of his. The people at the Kiosk asked him what the problem was and he explained that he had forgotten his tickets, but he thought the problem could be cleared up if they'd let him speak to the Aide. Of course, Daddy used the names of the Campaign Manager as well as the Aide.
The people in the Kiosk asked him who he was. He told them his name.
"Oh! So you're Rev. Hunt," they replied. "Just how many tickets did you say you needed, Rev. Hunt?" They handed him the three he requested, as if nothing had happened.
AMAZING. Anyone else would have not been able to get in. It sure helps to have friends in politics.
It was all worthwhile, even the 5:15 a.m. alarm. Deanna got to shake the hand of the President. She'll never forget yesterday.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
Deanna's Presidential Visit
Deanna's standing in line right now to see President Bush. Her Grandparents were going to see him again and invited her to go with them. She had to be cleared by the Secret Service and we ran out yesterday afternoon and bought her a darling outfit to wear. I had to get her up at 5:30 this morning for the trip, which is only 1 1/2 hours, but they wanted to be there plenty early to get a good place in line.
Deanna called a few minutes ago to tell me they hadn't gotten through the doors yet. But she said that there were more people behind them than in front of them.
She's really excited. When President Bush ran for election the first time, she got up out of bed and came into the living room where I was watching the returns. She sat up with me for several hours, trying to understand the political process (at all of 4 years old) and sharing in my excitement. When it became obvious that we weren't going to have a final decision that night, we both went to bed. The next morning, we turned on the news to see what had happened and heard about the contested race and all the ballot problems. After listening, we committed to each other to pray every day that George W. Bush would be our next president. Right then and there, we knelt on the floor in the living room and asked for God's intervention in this important election.
We kept our commitment and prayed together every day until Bush finally was confirmed. We watched the Inauguration together and cried, thanking the Lord for the godly man He had put in the White House.
She's never forgotten that. So when Grandma and Grandpa invited her to go with them, she was thrilled. I tried to explain to her that she might not get his autograph or get to shake his hand. Last time my parents saw him, they were Patrons (paid good money for that title) and were at a Luncheon with Congressmen, etc., when the President came in. The group was fairly small and that's why Grandma got her cheek kissed and Grandpa got his hand shook. This event is free and open to the public (within limits, of course - you had to submit your name in advance to be investigated by the Secret Service and were issued tickets) so there will likely be thousands of people. It's doubtful Deanna will get very close to the President, but we sure can hope. And even if she doesn't get close, she WILL get to see him in person.
I hope she's not disappointed. And I hope she gets to make personal contact with President Bush. Mostly, I hope this is something she'll always remember.
It's an opportunity I've never had.
Deanna called a few minutes ago to tell me they hadn't gotten through the doors yet. But she said that there were more people behind them than in front of them.
She's really excited. When President Bush ran for election the first time, she got up out of bed and came into the living room where I was watching the returns. She sat up with me for several hours, trying to understand the political process (at all of 4 years old) and sharing in my excitement. When it became obvious that we weren't going to have a final decision that night, we both went to bed. The next morning, we turned on the news to see what had happened and heard about the contested race and all the ballot problems. After listening, we committed to each other to pray every day that George W. Bush would be our next president. Right then and there, we knelt on the floor in the living room and asked for God's intervention in this important election.
We kept our commitment and prayed together every day until Bush finally was confirmed. We watched the Inauguration together and cried, thanking the Lord for the godly man He had put in the White House.
She's never forgotten that. So when Grandma and Grandpa invited her to go with them, she was thrilled. I tried to explain to her that she might not get his autograph or get to shake his hand. Last time my parents saw him, they were Patrons (paid good money for that title) and were at a Luncheon with Congressmen, etc., when the President came in. The group was fairly small and that's why Grandma got her cheek kissed and Grandpa got his hand shook. This event is free and open to the public (within limits, of course - you had to submit your name in advance to be investigated by the Secret Service and were issued tickets) so there will likely be thousands of people. It's doubtful Deanna will get very close to the President, but we sure can hope. And even if she doesn't get close, she WILL get to see him in person.
I hope she's not disappointed. And I hope she gets to make personal contact with President Bush. Mostly, I hope this is something she'll always remember.
It's an opportunity I've never had.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Living Room Re-decorating
It was this weekend three years ago that we moved back into our renovated home. On Friday, the race was on. The Contractor was pushing the sub-contractors to finish the job. When I left the house at 2:50 to pick Deanna up at school and get dressed for the house closing, the counters with sinks were still not in - the bathrooms were bare and certainly not usable. The cabinet makers had just brought the cabinetry in and were attaching it to the walls and sealing it. I was trying to hold panic at bay. I trusted our Contractor, but was doubtful we could really move in. However, we were determined. We had friends lined up to help us, a moving van, and childcare. Determined ... that's what we were.
Well, the counters made it and we moved in, amazingly peacefully. I was thinking yesterday about my living room. I love that room. I have great wall sconces and ambient lighting. I have lace panel curtains on the tinted Andersen windows. The walls are a warm white (Country Cream) and the natural wood arch leading from the dining room into the living room is a focal point. We keep this room closed off from the children and dog so it's in decent shape when we have company. My friends who meet with me on Wednesday morning at 6:00 for Devotions can arrive to a neat, clean room, despite the chaos elsewhere in the house. If someone drops by, I can usher them into the living room where we can visit in peace without clutter around us. The problem is this ... I've never really put up pictures in there, and the decorating leaves something to be desired. I want this room to be airy and uncluttered, but cozy and warm and stylish. I think what I've accomplished is neat, sparce, and plain.
I have no vision. I can't even imagine how to transform this room, though I'm sure other people would have plenty of ideas. Yesterday I was thinking about hiring an Interior Decorator, however, I don't want to spend any REAL money to improve the look of the room. Friends of mine have these lovely, warm rooms with beautiful colors that create the atmosphere. I can't change the color of the walls in this room because there's no doorway between the living room and the hall, which opens into other halls and the den. If I tried to paint the living room, I'd have to carry the color into the halls and half the house would have to be repainted.
My sister has a great eye for decorating. I've thought of having her over, but her taste is VERY different from mine. I love her taste. Her home is darling and reflects her personality. But I want MY living room to reflect me, not her.
Surely, there's someone out there who'd be willing to come and look at my living room and give me some ideas that reflect MY taste without me having to pay a fortune. Any volunteers?
Sent me an e-mail or give me a call if you're willing to volunteer your services. It's only one room.
Well, the counters made it and we moved in, amazingly peacefully. I was thinking yesterday about my living room. I love that room. I have great wall sconces and ambient lighting. I have lace panel curtains on the tinted Andersen windows. The walls are a warm white (Country Cream) and the natural wood arch leading from the dining room into the living room is a focal point. We keep this room closed off from the children and dog so it's in decent shape when we have company. My friends who meet with me on Wednesday morning at 6:00 for Devotions can arrive to a neat, clean room, despite the chaos elsewhere in the house. If someone drops by, I can usher them into the living room where we can visit in peace without clutter around us. The problem is this ... I've never really put up pictures in there, and the decorating leaves something to be desired. I want this room to be airy and uncluttered, but cozy and warm and stylish. I think what I've accomplished is neat, sparce, and plain.
I have no vision. I can't even imagine how to transform this room, though I'm sure other people would have plenty of ideas. Yesterday I was thinking about hiring an Interior Decorator, however, I don't want to spend any REAL money to improve the look of the room. Friends of mine have these lovely, warm rooms with beautiful colors that create the atmosphere. I can't change the color of the walls in this room because there's no doorway between the living room and the hall, which opens into other halls and the den. If I tried to paint the living room, I'd have to carry the color into the halls and half the house would have to be repainted.
My sister has a great eye for decorating. I've thought of having her over, but her taste is VERY different from mine. I love her taste. Her home is darling and reflects her personality. But I want MY living room to reflect me, not her.
Surely, there's someone out there who'd be willing to come and look at my living room and give me some ideas that reflect MY taste without me having to pay a fortune. Any volunteers?
Sent me an e-mail or give me a call if you're willing to volunteer your services. It's only one room.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
One Begets the Other
Daelyn: "Mama, is Lightning Niehaus your friend?"
Me, struggling to remember if any of my friend's children might use the nickname, "Lightning": "I'm not quite sure, son. Who's Lightning Niehaus?"
Daelyn: "You know, Mama, that lady."
Me: "Do you mean 'Stormy Niehaus'?"
Daelyn: "Yeah, her. She's the one."
Me, struggling to remember if any of my friend's children might use the nickname, "Lightning": "I'm not quite sure, son. Who's Lightning Niehaus?"
Daelyn: "You know, Mama, that lady."
Me: "Do you mean 'Stormy Niehaus'?"
Daelyn: "Yeah, her. She's the one."
Spirit (or spirits) Day
Yesterday was Spirit Day at school. Our Girls' Volleyball Team is going to State (or something like that) so all the students were supposed to dress in red, white and gold (the school colors) and a Pep Rally was scheduled.
After dropping Deanna and Dane off, Daelyn and I were driving through the parking lot on our way home. Several of the high schoolers and middle schoolers had on quite outlandish outfits. It was comical driving past them, looking them over.
Me: "They sure look goofy, some of them. They really went all out on their costumes."
Daelyn: "I don't understand. Why are they all dressed like that?"
Me: "Because it's Spirit Day."
Daelyn: "What IS Spirit Day?"
Me: "It's a day of celebration. We celebrate our school."
Daelyn: "Mama, why would we want to celebrate spirits. Aren't they bad?"
Me: Silence. How do you respond to that?
After dropping Deanna and Dane off, Daelyn and I were driving through the parking lot on our way home. Several of the high schoolers and middle schoolers had on quite outlandish outfits. It was comical driving past them, looking them over.
Me: "They sure look goofy, some of them. They really went all out on their costumes."
Daelyn: "I don't understand. Why are they all dressed like that?"
Me: "Because it's Spirit Day."
Daelyn: "What IS Spirit Day?"
Me: "It's a day of celebration. We celebrate our school."
Daelyn: "Mama, why would we want to celebrate spirits. Aren't they bad?"
Me: Silence. How do you respond to that?
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Card Tutor
Daelyn didn't want to go to the Y with me today while I worked out, so Grandma said he could go over there. I stopped to pick him up on my way home and he jumped up off the floor in the living room.
"Come with me, Mama. I got something to show you." He took me by the hand and lead me through the house into the Florida room in the back. As I was greeting my parents, he ran over to Grandma's card table, snatched up a piece of paper, and returned to me, grinning.
I glanced at the piece of paper. It had a capital D with a line under it. At the bottom of the page, it said "388". Next to that was a column headed by G. The number at the bottom of that column said "155".
I grinned at Daelyn. Grandma had been whomped at cards by the third of the Doughty children. Before I had a chance to respond, Daelyn laughed and yelled, "Grandma's a goose egg!!"
I raised my eyebrows and looked at my mother. She shrugged gently and said, "I'm a goose egg." Daelyn danced off to watch TV again and Mama added, "The worst part is, Daelyn lays all his cards on the table and I tell him which ones to play. I beat myself. "
Tough day for Grandma, but it sure made Daelyn's.
"Come with me, Mama. I got something to show you." He took me by the hand and lead me through the house into the Florida room in the back. As I was greeting my parents, he ran over to Grandma's card table, snatched up a piece of paper, and returned to me, grinning.
I glanced at the piece of paper. It had a capital D with a line under it. At the bottom of the page, it said "388". Next to that was a column headed by G. The number at the bottom of that column said "155".
I grinned at Daelyn. Grandma had been whomped at cards by the third of the Doughty children. Before I had a chance to respond, Daelyn laughed and yelled, "Grandma's a goose egg!!"
I raised my eyebrows and looked at my mother. She shrugged gently and said, "I'm a goose egg." Daelyn danced off to watch TV again and Mama added, "The worst part is, Daelyn lays all his cards on the table and I tell him which ones to play. I beat myself. "
Tough day for Grandma, but it sure made Daelyn's.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Temper, temper
Daelyn's going through a stage where he says mean things to me, usually when he's disciplined. He'll go running from the room, yelling, "You're the WORST Mommy in the whole world!" Often, he adds, "You're a dumb Mommy."
Now, the last one is particularly problematic, since it's not only disrespect of his mother and ugliness that's way over the top, but we also do not allow our children to use the words, "dumb", "stupid", or "shut up". This expletive is several offenses wrapped into one.
We've been clamping down hard on him when he talks this way. But, the truth is, Daelyn has a lot of Irish blood AND an Irish temper, just like me. Add testosterone to that and it's a recipe for disaster.
Some of his ill-manners are quite understandable to me, since I struggle with an Irish temper, as well. I'm a happy, joyful person by nature, and have learned to control my anger most of the time, but when I lose it, I lose it BIG. Once, while in college, I received a phone call that angered me. I pulled the phone out of the wall. Once, I was angry for weeks after someone who responded to my car for sale ad in the newspaper hit my new car with my old car in the driveway of my house. I had to be avoided by my friends until I was able to "shake it off".
So Daelyn's temper is understandable, however, totally unacceptable. We've been working very hard at getting it under control with time-outs, being sent to his bedroom, restriction from this or that, etc. We've tried spanking, but it only seems to exacerbate the problem.
Last night, Daelyn was thrilled with dinner. We had left-over pesto chicken over fettucini with honied carrots. His exuberance was refreshing.
"Mama, thank you for this WONDERFUL meal. You're the best Mommy EVER!!"
Somehow, the compliment wasn't quite as meaningful as it would have been without previous negative comments to the opposite. Nastiness can't be forgotten by one episode of extremely affectionate talk.
I glanced at Deanna who was smirking.
"So, Mommy's the best now, not the dumbest?" She looked over at me and rolled her eyes.
"He's fickle, honey. Just let it go."
"What's 'fickle', Mom?" Dane asked.
"Stick around for a few minutes, son, and you'll have a great example."
By this morning, I had lost my title of "best mom" and was back to "stinky mom". One day, perhaps, my changeling will be more stable and appreciate his mother. Until then, we discipline, love, and try hard to teach our little one the pitfalls of temper.
Now, the last one is particularly problematic, since it's not only disrespect of his mother and ugliness that's way over the top, but we also do not allow our children to use the words, "dumb", "stupid", or "shut up". This expletive is several offenses wrapped into one.
We've been clamping down hard on him when he talks this way. But, the truth is, Daelyn has a lot of Irish blood AND an Irish temper, just like me. Add testosterone to that and it's a recipe for disaster.
Some of his ill-manners are quite understandable to me, since I struggle with an Irish temper, as well. I'm a happy, joyful person by nature, and have learned to control my anger most of the time, but when I lose it, I lose it BIG. Once, while in college, I received a phone call that angered me. I pulled the phone out of the wall. Once, I was angry for weeks after someone who responded to my car for sale ad in the newspaper hit my new car with my old car in the driveway of my house. I had to be avoided by my friends until I was able to "shake it off".
So Daelyn's temper is understandable, however, totally unacceptable. We've been working very hard at getting it under control with time-outs, being sent to his bedroom, restriction from this or that, etc. We've tried spanking, but it only seems to exacerbate the problem.
Last night, Daelyn was thrilled with dinner. We had left-over pesto chicken over fettucini with honied carrots. His exuberance was refreshing.
"Mama, thank you for this WONDERFUL meal. You're the best Mommy EVER!!"
Somehow, the compliment wasn't quite as meaningful as it would have been without previous negative comments to the opposite. Nastiness can't be forgotten by one episode of extremely affectionate talk.
I glanced at Deanna who was smirking.
"So, Mommy's the best now, not the dumbest?" She looked over at me and rolled her eyes.
"He's fickle, honey. Just let it go."
"What's 'fickle', Mom?" Dane asked.
"Stick around for a few minutes, son, and you'll have a great example."
By this morning, I had lost my title of "best mom" and was back to "stinky mom". One day, perhaps, my changeling will be more stable and appreciate his mother. Until then, we discipline, love, and try hard to teach our little one the pitfalls of temper.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Freedom Flag
Last night, we were driving home from downtown. On the way, we passed an Adult Bookstore - the only one in the City. It met with a huge amount of controversy and was closed and reopened, closed and reopened several times. Christians would lobby against it and the government would come down on it, forcing it to close. Then, their high-powered attorneys would get some injunction or something, and it would reopen. This went on for several years.
Everytime we passed by it, which was at least twice weekly (to and from church), I'd pray against it, asking the Lord to close it down and to keep that evil out of our city. Many other people were doing the same thing. After two years or so of the closing-reopening cycles, it went completely out of business. Interestingly enough, they always flew a HUGE American flag out front, which they didn't remove when they closed the doors for the last time.
Don commented, after driving by last night, that the flag was pretty tattered. It was old, torn, and faded. The analogy simply jumped into my mind.
Isn't that exactly what Adult Bookstores do to the flag? They stomp on our freedom, taking advantage of it for evil purposes, using the freedom hard-fought for by many, including those who gave their lives, for their own selfish purposes while slowly but surely shredding the flag that allows that freedom. As I thought about that torn, dirtied flag, I realized that everytime we choose to misappropriate freedom or treat it fast and loose, we do the same thing.
Our flag should do more than just remind us of our country. It should remind us of our awsome, moral responsibility to hold it high by our every action.
Everytime we passed by it, which was at least twice weekly (to and from church), I'd pray against it, asking the Lord to close it down and to keep that evil out of our city. Many other people were doing the same thing. After two years or so of the closing-reopening cycles, it went completely out of business. Interestingly enough, they always flew a HUGE American flag out front, which they didn't remove when they closed the doors for the last time.
Don commented, after driving by last night, that the flag was pretty tattered. It was old, torn, and faded. The analogy simply jumped into my mind.
Isn't that exactly what Adult Bookstores do to the flag? They stomp on our freedom, taking advantage of it for evil purposes, using the freedom hard-fought for by many, including those who gave their lives, for their own selfish purposes while slowly but surely shredding the flag that allows that freedom. As I thought about that torn, dirtied flag, I realized that everytime we choose to misappropriate freedom or treat it fast and loose, we do the same thing.
Our flag should do more than just remind us of our country. It should remind us of our awsome, moral responsibility to hold it high by our every action.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Time to Take Time
Since school started, we've been living a new family schedule. I wake the children at 6:30, so they have lots of time to get ready for school without having to rush. They usually have their backpacks on their backs and are ready to walk out the door 10 minutes before we leave to walk to school - chores done, spelling words and memory verses reviewed, etc. Very peaceful for everyone.
When they get home from school, they change clothes and lay out their school clothes for the next day, then have a snack and visit with Mom. Next is homework, then playtime. We eat dinner at 5:00, and have plenty of time to waste together at the table.
After dinner, the children clear their places and get their baths. Don doesn't get home from work until 6:15-ish, so they get to visit with Dad while he eats. Most evenings, I read to them for 20 minutes or so, then they take their medicines, brush teeth, and it's off to bed by 7:00 p.m.
While they bathe, I clean up the kitchen, so I'm ready to read to them at 6:30. Once they're in bed, Don and I have time together. We've never, in our 11 years of marriage, talked so much. We have two hours most evenings to visit and talk about issues before we head towards bed.
The really funny thing is, the more I talk to him, the more I want to talk to him. During the day, I think of things I want to tell him and questions I want to ask him. It's amazing - this time with him is so precious. Not that I ever stopped, but I'm falling in love with him even more. Life is good - school time, family time, time to share about the Lord, reading time, bonding time, chore time, and MOM AND DAD TIME - Yahoo!!!
Our new schedule has brought new life to all of us. God is good. Life is good. YEAH!
On another note, I've finished four workouts at the Y so far (Mon. through Wed. and today) and they just get better. I'm feeling better already and am having fun. A lot of my friends workout at the Y so I get to socialize while exercising. Could life get any better?
When they get home from school, they change clothes and lay out their school clothes for the next day, then have a snack and visit with Mom. Next is homework, then playtime. We eat dinner at 5:00, and have plenty of time to waste together at the table.
After dinner, the children clear their places and get their baths. Don doesn't get home from work until 6:15-ish, so they get to visit with Dad while he eats. Most evenings, I read to them for 20 minutes or so, then they take their medicines, brush teeth, and it's off to bed by 7:00 p.m.
While they bathe, I clean up the kitchen, so I'm ready to read to them at 6:30. Once they're in bed, Don and I have time together. We've never, in our 11 years of marriage, talked so much. We have two hours most evenings to visit and talk about issues before we head towards bed.
The really funny thing is, the more I talk to him, the more I want to talk to him. During the day, I think of things I want to tell him and questions I want to ask him. It's amazing - this time with him is so precious. Not that I ever stopped, but I'm falling in love with him even more. Life is good - school time, family time, time to share about the Lord, reading time, bonding time, chore time, and MOM AND DAD TIME - Yahoo!!!
Our new schedule has brought new life to all of us. God is good. Life is good. YEAH!
On another note, I've finished four workouts at the Y so far (Mon. through Wed. and today) and they just get better. I'm feeling better already and am having fun. A lot of my friends workout at the Y so I get to socialize while exercising. Could life get any better?
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Interview with God
Click on the link below, then follow the directions. It's well worth the effort.
P.S. Make sure your volume is turned up.
http://www.theinterviewwithgod.com/
P.S. Make sure your volume is turned up.
http://www.theinterviewwithgod.com/
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Signs, signs, and more signs
My parents, as I've mentioned before, have become very politically-active in recent years. With the general election less than a month away, my father has been very busy putting out signs in support of all his Republican buddies. Almost every house on our street has a sign in the yard for a Senator, Mayor, or someone else running who Daddy's supporting. You can see him walking up and down the street with signs tucked under his arm and a hammer in his hand. We've seen him and so, I'm sure, has everyone else.
On Monday, Daelyn and I were stopped at a stoplight about 2 miles from our house (at least a dozen blocks away). Daelyn was sitting quietly in his booster seat, a rarity, to be sure. Then he said, "Mama, Grandpa put those signs up."
I turned to see where he was pointing, then turned around and looked. The corner was full of signs for different candidates. However, obviously, my father had not put those signs up. In the first place, it was entirely too far from our house - neighborhood is one thing, the entire city is something else. In the second place, they were on gas station property and Daddy only puts them in the yards of people he knows. Thirdly, they were for Democrats and candidates that my father is not supporting.
"No, son," I explained, "Grandpa didn't put up those signs."
"Yes, huh!" Daelyn responded. (Where does he get this "Huh" business. I'm an English major. I SURE didn't teach him.)
"No, Daelyn, he really didn't." In an effort to convince without confusing, I chose the first reason on my list and explained, "This is too far from our house. Grandpa wouldn't put signs all the way out here, hon."
Daelyn seemed only slightly convinced, but he snorted and closed the subject.
The next day, we were returning from running some errands. My parents had planned on attending a funeral of a mutual friend and then spending time with my sister who lives near the cemetery. They weren't expected home until late afternoon.
About two blocks from that gas station corner, I noticed an attractive, older man, very well-dressed, walking down a sidewalk with signs under his arm. It took only seconds for me to realize it was Daddy, on his way back from the funeral. I saw my mother in the car parked just a little further down the street.
"There's Grandpa!" I yelled. The kids clamored to the windows to see him.
"What's he doing, Mama," Deanna asked.
"Putting up campaign signs, it looks like," I answered.
"I KNEW IT!" Daelyn yelled, triumphantly. If Grandpa could be THAT far away from home, he certainly could have put up the signs just two blocks away.
There's absolutely NO convincing him now. As far as he's concerned, Grandpa has put up every campaign sign in the city. All he needed was proof, and he got it.
I've decided to give up the fight.
On Monday, Daelyn and I were stopped at a stoplight about 2 miles from our house (at least a dozen blocks away). Daelyn was sitting quietly in his booster seat, a rarity, to be sure. Then he said, "Mama, Grandpa put those signs up."
I turned to see where he was pointing, then turned around and looked. The corner was full of signs for different candidates. However, obviously, my father had not put those signs up. In the first place, it was entirely too far from our house - neighborhood is one thing, the entire city is something else. In the second place, they were on gas station property and Daddy only puts them in the yards of people he knows. Thirdly, they were for Democrats and candidates that my father is not supporting.
"No, son," I explained, "Grandpa didn't put up those signs."
"Yes, huh!" Daelyn responded. (Where does he get this "Huh" business. I'm an English major. I SURE didn't teach him.)
"No, Daelyn, he really didn't." In an effort to convince without confusing, I chose the first reason on my list and explained, "This is too far from our house. Grandpa wouldn't put signs all the way out here, hon."
Daelyn seemed only slightly convinced, but he snorted and closed the subject.
The next day, we were returning from running some errands. My parents had planned on attending a funeral of a mutual friend and then spending time with my sister who lives near the cemetery. They weren't expected home until late afternoon.
About two blocks from that gas station corner, I noticed an attractive, older man, very well-dressed, walking down a sidewalk with signs under his arm. It took only seconds for me to realize it was Daddy, on his way back from the funeral. I saw my mother in the car parked just a little further down the street.
"There's Grandpa!" I yelled. The kids clamored to the windows to see him.
"What's he doing, Mama," Deanna asked.
"Putting up campaign signs, it looks like," I answered.
"I KNEW IT!" Daelyn yelled, triumphantly. If Grandpa could be THAT far away from home, he certainly could have put up the signs just two blocks away.
There's absolutely NO convincing him now. As far as he's concerned, Grandpa has put up every campaign sign in the city. All he needed was proof, and he got it.
I've decided to give up the fight.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Exercise time
We joined the Y yesterday. Years ago, when Deanna was a toddler, we had a membership so she could take Gymnastics. She enjoyed the classes, but we haven't been Y'ers for quite some time now. They built a huge, new facility last year and most of my friends have joined. We noticed the other day that they had completely torn down the old Gymnastics Center where Deanna took her classes.
Anyway, I desperately need an exercise program and Deanna could definately benefit from one. Her pediatrician recommended the Y. After the conversation I had with Don about new furniture, I decided it was time to call the exercise equipment question. So we visited on Saturday and decided it was a good fit for our family. The biggest plus, however, was that it was a no-risk offer.
Through Don's job, we can join without a signing fee and they give us a 10% discount on the monthly payments. We can drop out at any time if it's not working out for us with no penalty or loss of money. Then, to add a little gravy, they made a mistake when processing our membership and charged us only $30 for the first month instead of the normal $60 fee. I told them that I didn't want to complain and would certainly accept a membership at a deep discount, but I didn't quite understand. They laughed and explained that they had made a mistake and that I should just be thankful.
I worked out this morning for an hour (actually, we were there for an hour, but I had an orientation session first, so I really only worked out for about 1/2 an hour) and burned about 150 calories. This is just a drop in the bucket, I know, but every little bit helps and, next time, I do a harder, longer routine on the Elipse.
I happily told Don to mark the treadmill off the budget. And I'm working on the bike. The sooner we can mark items off, the sooner I might actually get my furniture!
Anyway, I desperately need an exercise program and Deanna could definately benefit from one. Her pediatrician recommended the Y. After the conversation I had with Don about new furniture, I decided it was time to call the exercise equipment question. So we visited on Saturday and decided it was a good fit for our family. The biggest plus, however, was that it was a no-risk offer.
Through Don's job, we can join without a signing fee and they give us a 10% discount on the monthly payments. We can drop out at any time if it's not working out for us with no penalty or loss of money. Then, to add a little gravy, they made a mistake when processing our membership and charged us only $30 for the first month instead of the normal $60 fee. I told them that I didn't want to complain and would certainly accept a membership at a deep discount, but I didn't quite understand. They laughed and explained that they had made a mistake and that I should just be thankful.
I worked out this morning for an hour (actually, we were there for an hour, but I had an orientation session first, so I really only worked out for about 1/2 an hour) and burned about 150 calories. This is just a drop in the bucket, I know, but every little bit helps and, next time, I do a harder, longer routine on the Elipse.
I happily told Don to mark the treadmill off the budget. And I'm working on the bike. The sooner we can mark items off, the sooner I might actually get my furniture!
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Tree Farm
Daelyn and I picked up 6 pizzas yesterday and took them to the school so the 3rd and 4th grades could have pizza parties, their reward for 100% class participation at the Chuck E. Cheese Fund Raiser on Monday night.
After dropping them off, we piled back in the van to head home for lunch. The smell of pizza fresh from the oven filled the van. Daelyn commented how good it smelled, then asked if we could have pizza for lunch, my very thoughts.
We headed to CiCi's where I ordered anchovy pizza - YUM! We had a wonderful meal, then headed home. Pulling out of the parking lot, I was looking both directions and thought about the tree farm right up the road. We've purchased our Christmas tree at this same farm for the last 20 years - until last year, when they closed. We loved Bailey's - acres and acres of beautiful, perfectly groomed trees, the smell of fresh-cut boughs in the air, burn barrels to gather around for warmth, hot boiled peanuts being sold at the shack, and lights strung so customers could choose even after dark. We'd stand around and take pictures while the young employee cut out choice down with a saw, then watch them load it onto the trailer and follow the tractor back up to the shed. There, it would be shaken out on a special stand to remove all the dead needles (an amazing thing to watch), then they'd put it on the prep table where bottom boughs could be removed to your specifications so the tree would fit snugly in your stand. If heighth needed to come off, again, they'd cut it per your request, carefully measuring to be sure your tree would fit into your house. Then they'd put it through the netting, wrapping it nicely so it was easy to move and boughs wouldn't be broken off in transit. If you wanted, they'd put your stand on the tree for you, saving you that step when you got home. Then, they'd tie it to the top of your car, you'd pay your bill, and off you'd go, singing Christmas carols the whole way home and often stopping along the way to look at light displays in people's yards.
Ah, the memories. Twenty years' worth. But Bailey's closed last year. The owner just was tired of trying to keep it up on his own. He has a full-time job and would spend every Saturday during the year grooming and watering, replanting and caring for the trees. He took all his vacation time over the Christmas season every year to run the farm.
"I don't need this," Syl told me. "I have a good-paying job. This is just too much for me. I didn't mind doing it all these years, but I'm just tired of it. I want a Saturday once in a while to myself and I want to go on a REAL vacation."
While I understood how he felt, I still terribly miss the farm. It was only about 2 miles from our house, but tucked away in a remote, rural area. We always felt like we had driven out into the country (all 10 minutes it took us to get there through traffic).
I sighed out loud and commented, "I hate that Bailey's has closed. I miss it."
Daelyn: "What? What's Bailey's?"
Me: "You know, the tree farm where we used to get our Christmas trees. It's right there down that road."
Daelyn: "I remember, Mama. Why did they close down?"
Me: "Well, it was just too much work for the owner, hon. He had another job and he spent ALL his spare time working at the tree farm. It was just too much for him. He couldn't handle it all by himself anymore."
Daelyn was very quiet for a while. Then, in a small, serious voice he said,
"Mama, I'll talk to my boss and see if I can get off work early so I can help Mr. Syl."
Sweet Daelyn. Only 4 years old and already hoisting the cares of the world onto his shoulders.
I snickered, wondering who his "boss" was and just what "work" he was going to leave early. He heard me and got very offended.
Okay, okay. I'm a rotten Mommy. I shouldn't have laughed when my 4-yr. old is trying to help his fellow man.
After dropping them off, we piled back in the van to head home for lunch. The smell of pizza fresh from the oven filled the van. Daelyn commented how good it smelled, then asked if we could have pizza for lunch, my very thoughts.
We headed to CiCi's where I ordered anchovy pizza - YUM! We had a wonderful meal, then headed home. Pulling out of the parking lot, I was looking both directions and thought about the tree farm right up the road. We've purchased our Christmas tree at this same farm for the last 20 years - until last year, when they closed. We loved Bailey's - acres and acres of beautiful, perfectly groomed trees, the smell of fresh-cut boughs in the air, burn barrels to gather around for warmth, hot boiled peanuts being sold at the shack, and lights strung so customers could choose even after dark. We'd stand around and take pictures while the young employee cut out choice down with a saw, then watch them load it onto the trailer and follow the tractor back up to the shed. There, it would be shaken out on a special stand to remove all the dead needles (an amazing thing to watch), then they'd put it on the prep table where bottom boughs could be removed to your specifications so the tree would fit snugly in your stand. If heighth needed to come off, again, they'd cut it per your request, carefully measuring to be sure your tree would fit into your house. Then they'd put it through the netting, wrapping it nicely so it was easy to move and boughs wouldn't be broken off in transit. If you wanted, they'd put your stand on the tree for you, saving you that step when you got home. Then, they'd tie it to the top of your car, you'd pay your bill, and off you'd go, singing Christmas carols the whole way home and often stopping along the way to look at light displays in people's yards.
Ah, the memories. Twenty years' worth. But Bailey's closed last year. The owner just was tired of trying to keep it up on his own. He has a full-time job and would spend every Saturday during the year grooming and watering, replanting and caring for the trees. He took all his vacation time over the Christmas season every year to run the farm.
"I don't need this," Syl told me. "I have a good-paying job. This is just too much for me. I didn't mind doing it all these years, but I'm just tired of it. I want a Saturday once in a while to myself and I want to go on a REAL vacation."
While I understood how he felt, I still terribly miss the farm. It was only about 2 miles from our house, but tucked away in a remote, rural area. We always felt like we had driven out into the country (all 10 minutes it took us to get there through traffic).
I sighed out loud and commented, "I hate that Bailey's has closed. I miss it."
Daelyn: "What? What's Bailey's?"
Me: "You know, the tree farm where we used to get our Christmas trees. It's right there down that road."
Daelyn: "I remember, Mama. Why did they close down?"
Me: "Well, it was just too much work for the owner, hon. He had another job and he spent ALL his spare time working at the tree farm. It was just too much for him. He couldn't handle it all by himself anymore."
Daelyn was very quiet for a while. Then, in a small, serious voice he said,
"Mama, I'll talk to my boss and see if I can get off work early so I can help Mr. Syl."
Sweet Daelyn. Only 4 years old and already hoisting the cares of the world onto his shoulders.
I snickered, wondering who his "boss" was and just what "work" he was going to leave early. He heard me and got very offended.
Okay, okay. I'm a rotten Mommy. I shouldn't have laughed when my 4-yr. old is trying to help his fellow man.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Furniture . . . PLEASE!!
I'm on the hunt for new furniture. Most of the pieces I had when Don and I married were accumulated from different sources and didn't match. I spent my money fixing up the house, not buying furniture. The only really nice piece of furniture I owned was a queen-sleeper sofa that I special-ordered in the fabric and design I wanted. My coffee table and end tables were bought at a yard sale - somebody else's throw-aways. My bed had been given to me. You get the general idea. Nothing matched.
Then Don and I married. He brought with him a few pieces of furniture, most of it old and manly - nothing I would ever have chosen for myself. But at least we had a decent dresser, a few chairs to go with our dining room table, and a loveseat for our den.
We've been married 11 years now. My lovely couch had seen better days 6 years ago. Now it's covered with a removable slipcover which has to be neated up daily and is messy immediately upon being sat on. Don's loveseat is falling apart and our bedroom furniture is just too bulky for my tastes.
When we gutted and redid our house, my parents began getting rid of everything they didn't want. They figured we had plenty of room, so all their throw-aways ended up here. My father had an old recliner that his mother had given him before her death. It has great sentimental value for my father, but NOT for Mom. She had decided to put it out on the street, despite the fact that my father sat in it for hours every day, because it didn't go along with her decor. My father asked and I took pity on him. So our living room has a blue spray-painted nogahide recliner (the most uncomfortable chair I've ever sat in) in the middle of it. In addition, my mother designed and had built for her in the Orient a sewing center. My mother was quite a seamstress in her day. The sewing center is room-sized and contains huge drawers for fabric, notion drawers, a full-sized cutting board, a drawer of spindles for thread as well as a cut-out area for a sewing machine. My mother used it for years but doesn't sew anymore and decided to rid herself of her teak sewing center. My sisters all begged her not to sell it. It has great sentimental value for our family. She decided MY BEDROOM was the perfect place for it and, before I knew it, I had inherited this huge catch-all (I don't sew) that takes up the entire wall on which I had intended to put a loveseat for private conversations with Don or just relaxing and reading.
I haven't yet come up with any solutions to the pieces of furniture I inherited from Mom, but I'm certainly ready to get rid of everything else in the house. We need a new entertainment center (the cabinet doors on ours constantly fall off and it's low and long instead of tall and narrow, which is what we need). I want a new couch for the living room and a new loveseat for the den. I have managed to accumulate a couple of nice leather gliders/recliners for the living room and den.
Down the road, I want to replace Deanna's twin bed with a full-sized so we have a bed for married guests. Her bed will go into the toy room as a spare. Then, if Grandma and Grandpa Doughty visit, they can have Deanna's full bed and she can move into the toy room.
I'd also like to replace our dining room table (a hand-me-down that was my parents when I was growing up and is in terrible shape) and get a china cabinet and hutch to match. In the kitchen, we have an old pressed-board microwave stand that pokes out way too much. I'd like to replace it with a natural wood corner stand that matches the natural wood kitchen table and my kitchen cabinets.
So I hunt ... and ask Don to buy ... and when he never responds, I hunt some more ... and ask Don to buy. Anybody notice a pattern here?
Yesterday, I found a leather sectional with 3 reclining seats and a chaise. I WANT IT. It has two tacky consoles stuck inbetween the other pieces. I removed the consoles at the store and the sofa without them was classy-looking. It's amazing how much two consoles can cheapen a beautiful piece of furniture. Anyway, the consoles are damaged (another reason they're tacky) so I wouldn't want them, anyway. The Manager quoted me a price of $700 for the couch. Remember, I said LEATHER. Now the big question is, will Don be willing to part with the money?
I asked him again if he has any intention of buying the couch for me. He responded, "You want a treadmill, a new car for me, a couch, a Y Membership, and a bike. I'm a little overwhelmed."
I can understand his point. It is all a little overwhelming. However, if he'd just begin making purchases, I'd feel like we're at least accomplishing SOMETHING.
Maybe we can have a few more conversations and nail down one of these to purchase right now. With a little planning and a push here and there for Don, perhaps I might get some new furniture within the next couple of years.
Anybody out there in Blogland want a blue nogahide recliner and a teak room-size sewing center?
Then Don and I married. He brought with him a few pieces of furniture, most of it old and manly - nothing I would ever have chosen for myself. But at least we had a decent dresser, a few chairs to go with our dining room table, and a loveseat for our den.
We've been married 11 years now. My lovely couch had seen better days 6 years ago. Now it's covered with a removable slipcover which has to be neated up daily and is messy immediately upon being sat on. Don's loveseat is falling apart and our bedroom furniture is just too bulky for my tastes.
When we gutted and redid our house, my parents began getting rid of everything they didn't want. They figured we had plenty of room, so all their throw-aways ended up here. My father had an old recliner that his mother had given him before her death. It has great sentimental value for my father, but NOT for Mom. She had decided to put it out on the street, despite the fact that my father sat in it for hours every day, because it didn't go along with her decor. My father asked and I took pity on him. So our living room has a blue spray-painted nogahide recliner (the most uncomfortable chair I've ever sat in) in the middle of it. In addition, my mother designed and had built for her in the Orient a sewing center. My mother was quite a seamstress in her day. The sewing center is room-sized and contains huge drawers for fabric, notion drawers, a full-sized cutting board, a drawer of spindles for thread as well as a cut-out area for a sewing machine. My mother used it for years but doesn't sew anymore and decided to rid herself of her teak sewing center. My sisters all begged her not to sell it. It has great sentimental value for our family. She decided MY BEDROOM was the perfect place for it and, before I knew it, I had inherited this huge catch-all (I don't sew) that takes up the entire wall on which I had intended to put a loveseat for private conversations with Don or just relaxing and reading.
I haven't yet come up with any solutions to the pieces of furniture I inherited from Mom, but I'm certainly ready to get rid of everything else in the house. We need a new entertainment center (the cabinet doors on ours constantly fall off and it's low and long instead of tall and narrow, which is what we need). I want a new couch for the living room and a new loveseat for the den. I have managed to accumulate a couple of nice leather gliders/recliners for the living room and den.
Down the road, I want to replace Deanna's twin bed with a full-sized so we have a bed for married guests. Her bed will go into the toy room as a spare. Then, if Grandma and Grandpa Doughty visit, they can have Deanna's full bed and she can move into the toy room.
I'd also like to replace our dining room table (a hand-me-down that was my parents when I was growing up and is in terrible shape) and get a china cabinet and hutch to match. In the kitchen, we have an old pressed-board microwave stand that pokes out way too much. I'd like to replace it with a natural wood corner stand that matches the natural wood kitchen table and my kitchen cabinets.
So I hunt ... and ask Don to buy ... and when he never responds, I hunt some more ... and ask Don to buy. Anybody notice a pattern here?
Yesterday, I found a leather sectional with 3 reclining seats and a chaise. I WANT IT. It has two tacky consoles stuck inbetween the other pieces. I removed the consoles at the store and the sofa without them was classy-looking. It's amazing how much two consoles can cheapen a beautiful piece of furniture. Anyway, the consoles are damaged (another reason they're tacky) so I wouldn't want them, anyway. The Manager quoted me a price of $700 for the couch. Remember, I said LEATHER. Now the big question is, will Don be willing to part with the money?
I asked him again if he has any intention of buying the couch for me. He responded, "You want a treadmill, a new car for me, a couch, a Y Membership, and a bike. I'm a little overwhelmed."
I can understand his point. It is all a little overwhelming. However, if he'd just begin making purchases, I'd feel like we're at least accomplishing SOMETHING.
Maybe we can have a few more conversations and nail down one of these to purchase right now. With a little planning and a push here and there for Don, perhaps I might get some new furniture within the next couple of years.
Anybody out there in Blogland want a blue nogahide recliner and a teak room-size sewing center?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Complaining Species
For the last several weeks, our Sunday School Class has been studying Exodus. Last week, our teacher asked all of us to write a first-person journal entry as if we were one of the Israelites wandering in the desert. What would we say about our experience?
I've always been a little critical of the Israelites. God did so much for them and, yet, they were an ungrateful people who complained continuously. They groaned that life was better for them back in Egypt and it would be better to be a slave than lost in the wilderness. They complained that they didn't have food, so God provided mannah. Then they complained that they didn't have meat, so God provided fowl. This was all within days of them crossing the Red Sea and watching Pharaoh's armies being destroyed when the waters closed up behind them. How could they experience such tremendous miracles in their midst and still grumble and complain. How could they witness 24-hours a day the presence of Yahweh in the pillar of fire and a cloud, leading them through the desert, and still think they would perish. God's visible presence was with them, and they still doubted.
When I sat at the table on Sunday morning, thinking, pondering in my dramatic way, how the Israelites must have felt, I experienced something completely new. I began to understand their fears. For centuries, they had been separated from their own land and worshipping their God had been a challenge. Although they had maintained their hope, I'm not sure they all really had a deep faith. Their faith was less theirs and more their ancestors. And Moses was leading them. Within their lifetime, he had been an Egyptian, one of their enslavers. Suddenly, they're supposed to trust him and believe that he speaks for this God that they barely know. Everything around them is foreign and scary, even this faith that they are commanded to practice. Suddenly, they are faced with LAWS, RULES. Everything is well-ordered and dictated. This experience had to be mind-boggling.
Add to that human nature. I have a beloved friend that, many years ago, desperately needed a new car, but had no money to buy one. She prayed and prayed and asked the Lord to provide for her. While at work one day and listening to the radio, she participated in a call-in game and won a key to a car. Several keys were given out. Then the key-winners met at a car dealership on a Saturday morning and each tried their key in a brand new car. The one whose key started the car got to drive it home. As you've already guessed, my friend's key started the car. GOD GAVE HER A CAR. It was amazing and miraculous, but God's provision for her was steadfast. She needed a car and had no other way to obtain one - God provided.
All of us have experienced miracles in our lives, but does that keep us from complaining for the rest of our lives? Of course not, because we're human. We can experience a miracle like the one my friend did and, the very next day, complain to the Lord about some other area of our life. All of us have done it. We're a complaining species. It seems to be almost impossible to hold the memory of God's miracles close enough that we think of them instead of our problems.
Can I really blame the Israelites for their complaining in the desert? God didn't. He faithfully, time after time, responded to their complaining with acts of love. He does the same for us today. He understands our humanness, like a parent who watches their tired child acting out. While we know it's wrong, we understand what's happening to them and are filled with compassion. Instead of spanking, we take them in our arms, snuggle them close, and sing a gentle lullabye. Does God do any less for us? Did he do any less for his children in the desert?
I don't want to be a complaining, grumpy child. I want to be worthy of the miracles and faithfulness of our Lord. I want to hold his love for me and provision for me so close that my focus is constantly on Him. I want to BAN grumbling and complaining. I want to focus on all the blessings God has bestowed on me.
I want to be less human and take on the image of Our Father. I want to remember always the example of the Israelites in the wilderness and work hard to be different.
I've always been a little critical of the Israelites. God did so much for them and, yet, they were an ungrateful people who complained continuously. They groaned that life was better for them back in Egypt and it would be better to be a slave than lost in the wilderness. They complained that they didn't have food, so God provided mannah. Then they complained that they didn't have meat, so God provided fowl. This was all within days of them crossing the Red Sea and watching Pharaoh's armies being destroyed when the waters closed up behind them. How could they experience such tremendous miracles in their midst and still grumble and complain. How could they witness 24-hours a day the presence of Yahweh in the pillar of fire and a cloud, leading them through the desert, and still think they would perish. God's visible presence was with them, and they still doubted.
When I sat at the table on Sunday morning, thinking, pondering in my dramatic way, how the Israelites must have felt, I experienced something completely new. I began to understand their fears. For centuries, they had been separated from their own land and worshipping their God had been a challenge. Although they had maintained their hope, I'm not sure they all really had a deep faith. Their faith was less theirs and more their ancestors. And Moses was leading them. Within their lifetime, he had been an Egyptian, one of their enslavers. Suddenly, they're supposed to trust him and believe that he speaks for this God that they barely know. Everything around them is foreign and scary, even this faith that they are commanded to practice. Suddenly, they are faced with LAWS, RULES. Everything is well-ordered and dictated. This experience had to be mind-boggling.
Add to that human nature. I have a beloved friend that, many years ago, desperately needed a new car, but had no money to buy one. She prayed and prayed and asked the Lord to provide for her. While at work one day and listening to the radio, she participated in a call-in game and won a key to a car. Several keys were given out. Then the key-winners met at a car dealership on a Saturday morning and each tried their key in a brand new car. The one whose key started the car got to drive it home. As you've already guessed, my friend's key started the car. GOD GAVE HER A CAR. It was amazing and miraculous, but God's provision for her was steadfast. She needed a car and had no other way to obtain one - God provided.
All of us have experienced miracles in our lives, but does that keep us from complaining for the rest of our lives? Of course not, because we're human. We can experience a miracle like the one my friend did and, the very next day, complain to the Lord about some other area of our life. All of us have done it. We're a complaining species. It seems to be almost impossible to hold the memory of God's miracles close enough that we think of them instead of our problems.
Can I really blame the Israelites for their complaining in the desert? God didn't. He faithfully, time after time, responded to their complaining with acts of love. He does the same for us today. He understands our humanness, like a parent who watches their tired child acting out. While we know it's wrong, we understand what's happening to them and are filled with compassion. Instead of spanking, we take them in our arms, snuggle them close, and sing a gentle lullabye. Does God do any less for us? Did he do any less for his children in the desert?
I don't want to be a complaining, grumpy child. I want to be worthy of the miracles and faithfulness of our Lord. I want to hold his love for me and provision for me so close that my focus is constantly on Him. I want to BAN grumbling and complaining. I want to focus on all the blessings God has bestowed on me.
I want to be less human and take on the image of Our Father. I want to remember always the example of the Israelites in the wilderness and work hard to be different.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Princesses
Below are pictures of the table centerpiece, Her Royal Highness Princess Deanna, the Royal Throne, and the Guest Princesses at Table.
Monday, October 09, 2006
The Party Family
Yesterday was Deanna's birthday. We've had three days of partying. If this is how things go at 10, what will it be like when she turns 18?
On Saturday, she had a Princess Party. We invited 4 friends, asked them to dress accordingly, and, as they arrived, Don announced them. They were escorted to the Prep Table where they received blush, glitter and lip gloss as well as their tiara and ring. The name of a Disney princess was pinned on their backs and they were instructed to ask only "yes, no" questions to detrermine who their princess was. They they were escorted into the living room to join the other princesses, again being announced by Don (in his suit).
After all had arrived and been "prepped", we moved on to other games. After games, we ate. I served cream puffs, lemon bars, Gardetto's Mix, and cheese straws. Punch was the beverage of the day and pink was the color. I made the punch with Raspberry Sherbet, pineapple juice and Sprite, so it was a lovely pink color, also. I floated pink rose-scented and shaped candles in a crystal bowl as part of the centerpiece. Pink balloons were everywhere. I had printed pictures of Disney princesses off the internet and mounted them on cardstock, then hole punched them and made a hanger out of curling ribbon. Deanna's chair was covered in a pink plastic tablecloth and tied down with curling ribbon so it looked like a throne.
Then I brought out the Castle Cake. The girls ate their weight in cream puffs, but the cake was poorly attended. Deanna opened her presents, we gave out treat bags, and recessed to the Den for the movie watching - the Princess Bride.
All-in-all, it was a very fun party, albeit exhausting for me. I almost hated that there were only 4 girls here, after all the effort I went to. I'll post some pictures tomorrow.
On Sunday, her actual birthday, we did very little, since we had church. We ordered out Papa John's pizza for dinner and Deanna opened her presents from us, her grandparents who live in West Virginia and her Aunt in Colorado. Low key. Small. Quiet. Lovely.
Today, we had our school fund-raiser at Chuck E. Cheese, which was a great opportunity to make more money for the school by inviting the family members. We all gathered, prayed, ate, sang "Happy Birthday" yet again, then had cake and opened presents. This was probably the most fun party for Deanna. While she loved the Saturday event, and this was probably the last year she could pull off something like a Princess Party, tonight was more fun for her because ALL her friends were there. On the way home in the van, we ran through the list of the kids in her class. Her class had 100% participation!! It was amazing.
So, we're exhausted and I have a terrible headache, but her 10th birthday was fun and we're finally through all the festivities and the fund-raiser. Now I get to wait to find out how much moeny we made.
In the meanwhile, I better do some laundry.
On Saturday, she had a Princess Party. We invited 4 friends, asked them to dress accordingly, and, as they arrived, Don announced them. They were escorted to the Prep Table where they received blush, glitter and lip gloss as well as their tiara and ring. The name of a Disney princess was pinned on their backs and they were instructed to ask only "yes, no" questions to detrermine who their princess was. They they were escorted into the living room to join the other princesses, again being announced by Don (in his suit).
After all had arrived and been "prepped", we moved on to other games. After games, we ate. I served cream puffs, lemon bars, Gardetto's Mix, and cheese straws. Punch was the beverage of the day and pink was the color. I made the punch with Raspberry Sherbet, pineapple juice and Sprite, so it was a lovely pink color, also. I floated pink rose-scented and shaped candles in a crystal bowl as part of the centerpiece. Pink balloons were everywhere. I had printed pictures of Disney princesses off the internet and mounted them on cardstock, then hole punched them and made a hanger out of curling ribbon. Deanna's chair was covered in a pink plastic tablecloth and tied down with curling ribbon so it looked like a throne.
Then I brought out the Castle Cake. The girls ate their weight in cream puffs, but the cake was poorly attended. Deanna opened her presents, we gave out treat bags, and recessed to the Den for the movie watching - the Princess Bride.
All-in-all, it was a very fun party, albeit exhausting for me. I almost hated that there were only 4 girls here, after all the effort I went to. I'll post some pictures tomorrow.
On Sunday, her actual birthday, we did very little, since we had church. We ordered out Papa John's pizza for dinner and Deanna opened her presents from us, her grandparents who live in West Virginia and her Aunt in Colorado. Low key. Small. Quiet. Lovely.
Today, we had our school fund-raiser at Chuck E. Cheese, which was a great opportunity to make more money for the school by inviting the family members. We all gathered, prayed, ate, sang "Happy Birthday" yet again, then had cake and opened presents. This was probably the most fun party for Deanna. While she loved the Saturday event, and this was probably the last year she could pull off something like a Princess Party, tonight was more fun for her because ALL her friends were there. On the way home in the van, we ran through the list of the kids in her class. Her class had 100% participation!! It was amazing.
So, we're exhausted and I have a terrible headache, but her 10th birthday was fun and we're finally through all the festivities and the fund-raiser. Now I get to wait to find out how much moeny we made.
In the meanwhile, I better do some laundry.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
New Layout for Deanna
I rearranged Deanna's room on Monday. We're on a Quest for neatness in our house. Dane keeps his room neat as a pin. Daelyn works regularly on the Toy Room. Deanna invests the time in her room, but never quite seems to accomplish much.
There are several problems. The first is that Deanna is a packrat. She keeps everything from ticket stubs to candy wrappers. Then the clutter overwhelms her and she can't seem to get through it to keep her room clean. Several weeks ago, I offered her a Keepsake Box for all her treasures. I explained that she could put everything she didn't use regularly in the Box and keep it in her closet. Then she'd always have those things, but they wouldn't be cluttering her dresser and headboard (which has a bookshelf built into it).
Another problem was her bed. In order to best utilize the space in her room, her bed was against a wall with the headboard in the corner. We put her bookshelf at the foot of her bed, turned like a footboard, so her bed was surrounded on 3 sides. It was almost impossible to make, stayed incredibly messy, and she used the foot of it for a storage area. Anything she didn't want to take the time to put away would get thrown on the foot of her bed, her "catch-all".
I began pondering what to do about this situation several days previous. I decided she definately needed more order and to get rid of her "cache", so moving the bed was in order. I got out my tape measure Monday morning and went to work.
Nothing is where it used to be. The bed is centered on the wall across from where it used to be tucked away, with the headboard against the wall and the bed poking out into the room (which significantly minimizes floor space, but I decided Deanna seldom uses the floor space, anyway, so it doesn't much matter). Her dresser, desk, and bookshelf have all been moved. Her room is now cozier and MUCH neater. Her bed is easy to make and is the focal point of the room, which is appropriate since the theme for the room (horses) is carried out in her comforter and dust ruffle.
I filled up her Keepsake Box and deposited it in her closet. Then I thoroughly dusted all the furniture (which you can now see) and threw out TONS of stuff (being careful to save anything "important"). Her desk and bookcase still need work, but her desk is going to take several hours of concerted effort. I figured she could reorganize the bookshelf herself by the end of the week in her 10-minute daily room clean-up time.
She's thrilled with the new lay-out and how easy it is to make her bed. I dangled in front of her nose the carrot of "if you get your desk cleaned off, you can do your homework in here everyday at your desk while you listen to your music". Homerun. She can't wait for this weekend to get her desk cleaned off.
She's happier, I'm very pleased, and we're finally getting some order into her room, which has been one of the challenges in my life.
Now if I can just come up with a plan for my room-length sewing center catch-all that clutters up my bedroom. One thing at a time, I guess.
There are several problems. The first is that Deanna is a packrat. She keeps everything from ticket stubs to candy wrappers. Then the clutter overwhelms her and she can't seem to get through it to keep her room clean. Several weeks ago, I offered her a Keepsake Box for all her treasures. I explained that she could put everything she didn't use regularly in the Box and keep it in her closet. Then she'd always have those things, but they wouldn't be cluttering her dresser and headboard (which has a bookshelf built into it).
Another problem was her bed. In order to best utilize the space in her room, her bed was against a wall with the headboard in the corner. We put her bookshelf at the foot of her bed, turned like a footboard, so her bed was surrounded on 3 sides. It was almost impossible to make, stayed incredibly messy, and she used the foot of it for a storage area. Anything she didn't want to take the time to put away would get thrown on the foot of her bed, her "catch-all".
I began pondering what to do about this situation several days previous. I decided she definately needed more order and to get rid of her "cache", so moving the bed was in order. I got out my tape measure Monday morning and went to work.
Nothing is where it used to be. The bed is centered on the wall across from where it used to be tucked away, with the headboard against the wall and the bed poking out into the room (which significantly minimizes floor space, but I decided Deanna seldom uses the floor space, anyway, so it doesn't much matter). Her dresser, desk, and bookshelf have all been moved. Her room is now cozier and MUCH neater. Her bed is easy to make and is the focal point of the room, which is appropriate since the theme for the room (horses) is carried out in her comforter and dust ruffle.
I filled up her Keepsake Box and deposited it in her closet. Then I thoroughly dusted all the furniture (which you can now see) and threw out TONS of stuff (being careful to save anything "important"). Her desk and bookcase still need work, but her desk is going to take several hours of concerted effort. I figured she could reorganize the bookshelf herself by the end of the week in her 10-minute daily room clean-up time.
She's thrilled with the new lay-out and how easy it is to make her bed. I dangled in front of her nose the carrot of "if you get your desk cleaned off, you can do your homework in here everyday at your desk while you listen to your music". Homerun. She can't wait for this weekend to get her desk cleaned off.
She's happier, I'm very pleased, and we're finally getting some order into her room, which has been one of the challenges in my life.
Now if I can just come up with a plan for my room-length sewing center catch-all that clutters up my bedroom. One thing at a time, I guess.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Nature of Relationships
The scripture for my devotional this morning was, "It is good and pleasant when God's people live together in peace!" (Psalm 133:1) The commentary talked about the importance of fellowship with other believers and said, "Your association with fellow Christians should be uplifting, enlightening, encouraging, and consistent."
About two weeks ago, we had a situation with Deanna. She wanted to sit in the front seat on the way home from school and to run errands. I told her that it's against the law (we have a front passenger-side airbag and the law states children must be 12 before they can sit in the front seat if there's an airbag) but she had to push it further and said, "All my friends do it."
She couldn't have hit a hotter button for me. I spent my teen years isolated from pretty much everybody at the private school I went to because their parents were MUCH more permissive than mine and I knew better than to even ask. I suffered for years but am much the stronger for it. I've never been "drunk" in my life and I've never done ANY illegal drugs, even in my most rebellious season. My parents drew a very clear line in the sand and, even though I didn't like it, I respected it. Even though I lived a lonely life for 4 years, I have few regrets and am a happy, contented, well-adjusted adult.
Deanna got a 30-minute lecture. I don't think she'll ever again dare to pull the "all my friends..." line. The truth is, Don and I are accountable for her. We will one day stand before God and have to justify our actions. If they (OUR actions) have endangered or permitted sinfulness, we will pay the ultimate price for that. Not only are we accountable in Heaven, but we would pay a heavy price on earth if she broke the law and we had an accident. I would be taken to Jail and Deanna could be seriously injured, even killed. God forbid she die or have brain damage. How would I ever live with myself?
I don't care what other people choose. If they are willing to risk their children's lives because "it's only a couple of blocks home from school" or they cave to their children's whims (truthfully, though, I'm not sure "all her friends", or even ANY of her friends, are really permitted to do this), they will pay the price, not me. I have no intention of paying the price for that one either here on earth or in Heaven. Deanna won't be drinking beer at 16 because "everybody else does". She won't be going to poorly supervised parties at 17 because "all my friends are going to be there". She won't be driving around at night on the weekends with a car full of girlfriends at 16 just because "everybody's else's parents think it's fine".
Other people's standards are NOT mine. My children may miss out on some things, but, in the end, I think their lives will be happier and they'll have less to regret. Life would sure be easier for them, though, if their friends supported the limits we put on them. I pray Deanna has a girlfriend who would rather come over and spend time with Deanna than ride around at night with her other friends. And I pray Deanna has the strength of character to shamelessly stand up for what her parents have taught her.
Relationships are so important to our lives. But the trick is to build ones that "uplift, enlighten, encourage and are consistent" instead of tearing down, discouraging, challenging towards the negative, and always leaving you feeling uncertain of their commitment.
I want those positive relationships for me but, more importantly, for my children. It deserves some concerted prayer and thought.
About two weeks ago, we had a situation with Deanna. She wanted to sit in the front seat on the way home from school and to run errands. I told her that it's against the law (we have a front passenger-side airbag and the law states children must be 12 before they can sit in the front seat if there's an airbag) but she had to push it further and said, "All my friends do it."
She couldn't have hit a hotter button for me. I spent my teen years isolated from pretty much everybody at the private school I went to because their parents were MUCH more permissive than mine and I knew better than to even ask. I suffered for years but am much the stronger for it. I've never been "drunk" in my life and I've never done ANY illegal drugs, even in my most rebellious season. My parents drew a very clear line in the sand and, even though I didn't like it, I respected it. Even though I lived a lonely life for 4 years, I have few regrets and am a happy, contented, well-adjusted adult.
Deanna got a 30-minute lecture. I don't think she'll ever again dare to pull the "all my friends..." line. The truth is, Don and I are accountable for her. We will one day stand before God and have to justify our actions. If they (OUR actions) have endangered or permitted sinfulness, we will pay the ultimate price for that. Not only are we accountable in Heaven, but we would pay a heavy price on earth if she broke the law and we had an accident. I would be taken to Jail and Deanna could be seriously injured, even killed. God forbid she die or have brain damage. How would I ever live with myself?
I don't care what other people choose. If they are willing to risk their children's lives because "it's only a couple of blocks home from school" or they cave to their children's whims (truthfully, though, I'm not sure "all her friends", or even ANY of her friends, are really permitted to do this), they will pay the price, not me. I have no intention of paying the price for that one either here on earth or in Heaven. Deanna won't be drinking beer at 16 because "everybody else does". She won't be going to poorly supervised parties at 17 because "all my friends are going to be there". She won't be driving around at night on the weekends with a car full of girlfriends at 16 just because "everybody's else's parents think it's fine".
Other people's standards are NOT mine. My children may miss out on some things, but, in the end, I think their lives will be happier and they'll have less to regret. Life would sure be easier for them, though, if their friends supported the limits we put on them. I pray Deanna has a girlfriend who would rather come over and spend time with Deanna than ride around at night with her other friends. And I pray Deanna has the strength of character to shamelessly stand up for what her parents have taught her.
Relationships are so important to our lives. But the trick is to build ones that "uplift, enlighten, encourage and are consistent" instead of tearing down, discouraging, challenging towards the negative, and always leaving you feeling uncertain of their commitment.
I want those positive relationships for me but, more importantly, for my children. It deserves some concerted prayer and thought.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Not a Good Day for the Lion, either
Daelyn and I went to the zoo with a friend today. It was beautiful, cool, and the animals were very active. We saw animals we've never caught a glimpse of before today, like the lion.
Daelyn stood and watched the lion for several minutes and then asked,
"Mama, is that a Mommy or a Daddy lion?"
"I think it's a Daddy, son," I commented, noticing the mane.
"I thought so," he continued. "I figured it must be a Daddy 'cause it didn't have on lipstick."
Daelyn stood and watched the lion for several minutes and then asked,
"Mama, is that a Mommy or a Daddy lion?"
"I think it's a Daddy, son," I commented, noticing the mane.
"I thought so," he continued. "I figured it must be a Daddy 'cause it didn't have on lipstick."
Monday, October 02, 2006
You Know It's Time for a New Computer when...
...you write an awesome post (at least a dozen paragraphs long) and, just as you're proofreading prior to publishing, the computer goes down and you lose everything, which is exactly what happened to me on Friday.
Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to reproduce it. But today, laundry awaits. And you can never be sure when this old computer is going to go haywire.
Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to reproduce it. But today, laundry awaits. And you can never be sure when this old computer is going to go haywire.
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