A Little Different Way of Thinking

My parents returned from Ghana and Togo in South Africa just one week before Christmas. Over the weekend, I spent some time editing and typing an article on their trip to be published in their church newsletter. My father's writing just gets better and better and this article was fascinating and fun.

Two of the stories he shared struck me. The first was about how a tribal chief in Togo invited them to sit with him under the Tree of Truth. The interpreter explained that the Chief had put a voodoo curse on the tree so anyone who sat underneath the tree and told a lie would die. The interpreter added that many people had died where they sat under the tree. He continued to explain that the Chief is now a Christian and has ordered his entire tribe of approximately 1,000 people to be Christians, as well.

Sure wish it were that simple in this country. I can't even demand that my children be Christians, let alone 997 other people. And, although he's a Christian now, he still asked my parents to sit with him under the Tree of Truth!

The second story was how he and my mother split up towards the end of their mission and went to different villages with two different teams. That evening, as they compared notes, my mother told about how the Missionaries approached the tribal chief of the village and asked permission to evangelize in his area. A Council Member from the tribe was assigned to work with them. Apparently, the Council Member was quite taken with my 78-yr. old mother and asked her to marry him. She got quite shaken up but politely explained that she was already happily married. He reassured her that there was no problem with that - he also was happily married. But he was willing to take her as a wife, as well. Mom politely declined his invitation. When she told Daddy about her day, he told her that while she was sidestepping matrimony with a Tribal Council Member of one tribe, he was trying to explain to a native mother why he couldn't marry one of his granddaughters off to one of her 3 sons. He made the mistake, apparently, of showing her pictures of several of his granddaughters, including Deanna. The woman was quite insistent that they unite their families in marriage and asked Papa to take one of her sons back with him to the U.S. and marry him to Deanna. Daddy explained that Deanna was only 11 and the woman said that, if necessary, her 38-year old son could wait one year. My father tried to explain that we don't arrange marriages in this country for our own children, let alone our grandchildren. The woman was quite taken aback by that and asked how we ever got anything done RIGHT!

She even dangled the promise of goats and chickens in front of Daddy's nose to coerce him. She was willing to offer quite a nice dowery for Deanna's hand. Papa had to work very hard to sidestep the issue without offending the woman.

My parents returned not having joined themselves or any of their family to an African family, but is seems to have been quite a challenge.

At least now I have a great threat to use on Deanna. "If you don't straighten up and clean up that room, I'll be shipping you off to meet your new African husband!"

Linger a while

Christmas GOES so fast! All the preparation and energy, then, you blink, and it's all over.

I like to leave my tree up until March or so to enjoy the lights and smell just a little longer. I'm joking, of course, but only a little. We do leave our tree up until at least the middle of January.

Yesterday, while walking into the Mall with Deanna, we noticed huge dumpsters full of Christmas trees. I guess the stores got them out as soon as they could. They're already putting out their spring merchandise. No more carols on the radio, yard lights steadily coming down.

I want to savor the season. I want to sit in the living room with just the fireplace and tree lights on and drink a cup of hot tea while I ponder the goodness of the Lord. I want to spend EVERY evening having family time. I want to, at the very least, enjoy the 12 days of Christmas and celebrate until Epiphany.

Our lives are always so rushed. There's seldom time to smell the roses, appreciate the beauty of a sunset, or linger around the Christmas tree. But, doggone it, I'm going to do it this year.

Just as soon as I get those train parts down out of the attic that my friend wants to buy from me and the article for my father typed that's due on Wednesday, and the laundry caught up . . .

Shopping Tutorial

I'm an After-Christmas shopper. I love to hit all the bargains the day after Christmas (Boxing Day, for our English and Canadian friends) and stash items away for the next year. I find wonderful prices on gifts.

I missed out on the after-Christmas sales last year, so I'm making up for it this year. I spent Boxing Day at home, except for one little venture out to Big Lots for gift bags and tissue paper for next year, but hit the stores in force on the 27th. Two full days of shopping and I'm ready to drop.

My father always encourages my mother to do this After-Christmas shopping. He told me that she didn't do it one year and Christmas cost them twice as much as usual the next year. One year my mother was taking care of a sick sister in Canada and missed Christmas and the shopping that followed. Dad discussed it with me during the day on Christmas and decided he should hit the stores in Mama's place with me. We planned our attack strategy, I picked him up the next morning at 6:45, and we headed out. Macy's was first on our list. We stood outside the doors in the pre-dawn twilight and cold chatting with other shoppers. When the doors opened, we rushed in and headed straight for the Christmas decorations. We split up. I quickly grabbed a basket that held ornaments under one of the trees, dumped the ornaments into another basket, and began filling mine with the ones I wanted to purchase. About 15 minutes later, Daddy found me.

"Where'd you get that basket, hon?" he asked. I explained how I had obtained my shopping basket. He sucked his breath in audibly.

"Are you sure that's okay?" His voice sounded very uncertain.

"Papa, look around," I directed. Every woman in the store (and my father was the only male) had a similar basket that they were quickly filling. He smiled and began to locate his own "shopping" basket.

A few minutes later, he walked over to me and said quietly, "I wonder how much these ornaments are. I love them, but they don't have a price tag."

"Ask out loud," I directed. He looked at me funny.

"What do you mean, 'Ask out loud'?"

"Ask the question in a loud voice to no one in particular," I prompted, then smiled encouragingly.

Papa, in a loud voice: "Gee, I wonder how much these ornaments cost. They don't have any prices on them."

A woman was kneeling in front of him digging through the baskets under a particularly lovely tree. "I just asked the sales lady and she said they're 50% off, which would make them $2.50, since they were originally $5.00," she volunteered.

Immediately, another woman on the other side of the tree chimed in. "Nope, you're wrong. I overheard your conversation and went and asked the Department Manager who said they're 75% off, so they're only $1.25. Just make sure you tell whoever rings you up that the Manager said they're 75% off," she told my father.

Papa looked at me and grinned. I smiled back. Underneath his breath he whispered, "It REALLY worked!"

When we got ready to check out, we joined the line of 35 or so women. Someone walked up behind me and whispered, "The registers are open in all the departments. You can take your purchases to children's clothing - there's no line there." I thanked her, tapped my father on the shoulder, tossed my head at him and whispered, "Come on!"

We were out of the store in 15 minutes, each ornament we purchased carefully wrapped, not having to wait a single minute to check out. As we headed for the car, Daddy exclaimed, "There's a real art to this Boxing Day Shopping, isn't there? I need to hang out with you more often to learn all the ropes."

We went for coffee on the way to our next stop. By the third store, Daddy was a Pro at After-Christmas shopping. He was very proud of his purchases and seemed to really enjoy himself.

To my knowledge, he's never taken the plunge again but, if he had to, he'd know how.

Of course, he had a great teacher.

Special, so Special

Thursday night I bought shrimp to have with our pizza for dinner. I boiled them in crab boil, then make homemade cocktail sauce. It was luscious and Dane and Daelyn ate their fill.

We went to Publix today to get our cheeses for our Christmas Eve Fondue and they had crablegs on sale - $5.99/lb. I bought 3 clusters - one for each of the boys and me. We're going to have them with tonight's dinner.

I also am chilling a bottle of sparkling cider to go with our fondue and I bought a port wine cheeseball that we'll attack sometime between now and Christmas morning - maybe this evening. I just can't shake the feeling that this time with our children is so precious, we need to do everything possible to make it special and memorable, not that we've EVER had a Christmas that wasn't memorable.

Deanna commented on the drive home from Publix after church that she was getting that excited feeling in the pit of her stomach. Me, too. We all gathered in the living room this afternoon - the children re-stacking the presents so there's room for people, me sorting through all the stuff we moved in there to get out of Nicki's room so she could move in, and Don just coming in to spend time with us. We started shaking presents and played a guessing game to try and figure out what they are. We laughed so hard Nicki was afraid to come in when she came home from her parent's.

It's almost here - Christmas Eve. Daelyn found the baby Jesus from our Nativity in the knife drawer this week and is ready to put him in the Creche. Donovan is sniffing out all his toys and the boys just seem to be floating. Don even is catching the bug this year.

Kel, just in case you're checking in, you didn't leave me a phone number and I miss you already! Yesterday, the kids and I talked about you being in Michigan and how funny it seems to have you gone at such a special time. Hope the trip up was okay.

Merry Christmas to ALL! And, if I don't write again until after Christmas, I hope Jesus is born anew in each of your hearts this year.

Blind Beholder

Don and I were both in the bathroom this morning, getting ready for church. I had jumped out of the bath, dried off, and was blow-drying my hair. When it was finally dry, I slipped into my dress and buttoned it up. Don turned and looked at me.

"You look beautiful today, Mommy."

"Thanks, hon," I responded. "But I'm not really sure that a dress alone can make me beautiful. I don't have any makeup on and my hair's not done."

"That's okay. I don't have my glasses on!"

Angels and Twips

Daelyn, at the top of his voice: "Shepherds, why this Jubilee? Why your gladsumm . . . stwains pwowong? Say, what may the tidings bwing, which inspire this heavenwy song?"

Me, in shock: "Daelyn, where did you learn those words?"

Deanna: "Mom, he's not singing it RIGHT!"

Me: "He most certainly IS. Didn't you hear it? Daelyn, sing it again for Sissy."

Daelyn, with a triumphant smile on his face, repeats this verse of "Angels, We Have Heard on High".

Deanna looks at me in shock, then quickly regroups: "I taught him!"


Deanna told us this joke at the dinner table last week: "What's a twip?"

Me: "I don't know. What IS a twip?"

Deanna: "A wide on a twain."

This cracks me up. I assume it's because I have a child who talks just like this. Don says he doesn't get the joke. Dane gets a funny look on his face everytime Deanna tells it. But she, Daelyn and I love it. We tell the joke over and over again, cracking up every time.

We just appreciate the little things in life.

Joy!

Nicki is officially moved in and we went out to dinner tonight to celebrate.

My parents are home from Africa and my father needs 40 lbs. of pecans for one of his customers.

Tomorrow is the last day of school before Christmas break and everyone has parties scheduled. I'll be in the Kindergarten class with Daelyn. Boy, am I looking forward to a fun day.

We got our Christmas package from Don's parents today. When we got ready to open it and put the presents under the tree, Don said to call Grandma and Grandpa and ask them if we should be concerned that the box had Post Office tape wrapped all around it that said, "Received in Damaged Condition". I left a message on their answering machine, then we opened the box. Everything inside looked fine. I took all the presents out and looked at the gift tags. Just then, the phone rang - Grandma Doughty. Turns out, some presents fell out of the box. We're missing a very expensive one for me, two for Don and another for Deanna.

Hopefully we'll be able to track down the missing presents and claim them prior to December 25. Don goes back to work, after a week off, on Thursday, so tomorrow is his last day home. And I'm finally really moving forward in my preparations for Christmas, thanks to the helping hands of my dear friend, Kelly, yesterday.

If you prayed for us, thank you. I am much more peaceful this evening than I have been in weeks. The house is starting to look like Christmas as I decorate, tackling small areas at a time. The sense of excitement from the children is almost like a rainstorm - clouds hanging low in every room, just waiting for the crash of lightning to erupt.

I love Christmas. I love the weather, the excitement, the meaning, the gift-giving, the lights, the smells, the music, the food, the fellowship . . . I can even put up with the commercialism, I love the other aspects SO-O-O-O much.

God is good. And, over the next week, we'll again experience the extent of His love for us as we celebrate the beginning of the life that bought our salvation. A tiny baby, the mystery of the star, smelly, poor, humble shepherds worshipping on their knees, all of creation bristling with excitement and joy.

May your life and home bristle with excitement and joy as we wait in anticipation of the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. And may the Christ Child reign upon the throne of your hearts in the coming year.

Merry Christmas!

Cold Winds of Change

There REALLY IS a floor underneath all the toys in the Toy Room. All the toys and most of the furniture are gone now and I had forgotten how lovely that room really is.

We're busily trying to find places for all the rest of the furniture in that room and clear the hallways for the big move tomorrow.

My parents are returning home from Africa tonight. I can't wait for them to be home. This is a horrible time of the year to be gone.

My brother called yesterday to say that my nephew has joined the military and leaves for Boot Camp in January. This is exciting news for us. My father was a career Army officer and my brother went through college on an R.O.T.C. scholarship - fine military traditions. There's also the matter of a young man with no clear direction in his life, wandering aimlessly and just getting into trouble, who now will grow up and learn discipline.

I'm not thrilled that he might have to go to war, but it's what adults sometimes need to do, and that's a good thing, not a bad thing. My father found a way for himself, after a very troubled youth, when he finally buckled down and decided to "do" the Army the way they wanted him to. It changed his life and opened up doors to him that he never dreamed.

If you have a few spare moments, pray for peace in our home. We have many issues and challenges facing us right now and more to do than any one family could ever accomplish - but with God's help, everything is possible.

The weather has finally turned cold. It was 27 this morning when the alarm clock rose me out of my few hours sleep. It's beginning to FEEL like Christmas, and, for that, I am very grateful.

Now, if I can just keep warm and get caught up on my sleep . . .

Yet More Differences

Our friend, Nicki, is moving in with us on Tuesday. The Toy Room will be her bedroom. So . . . we MUST clean out the Toy Room - fast.

Yesterday, Don had the children remove all the bags of stuff I had already bagged up and put on the train table. He wanted them to sort through the junk, throw out anything that's broken or too young for our children, put the REAL nice stuff aside for a yard sale, and get the rest ready for Good Will. We have toys and bags strewn from one end of the house to the other. It's a huge mess. Certainly not the way I would have done things.

I've already gotten rid of about 6 bags of junk. I piled everything within reach into large garbage bags during the day. Then, at night, after the children were in bed, I'd sit in the Den and sort them, one bag at a time, labeling each as I went. The most mess at any one time was one bagful of stuff. Now we have at least 8 bagfuls of stuff - everywhere - and the children have pulled about 60 items out that they still "love" and want to keep. But, of course, the keepers aren't put away neatly in their room, they're left wherever the child last played with it.

Late last night, Nicki came by with some friends to show them her room. As we made our way gingerly on the tiny path through the dining room and hallways which look like a toy graveyard, I was embarrassed to death. As if it's not enough that the boxes from our decorations are still lining the hallways, waiting to be put back in the attic, now we have an unbelievable mess with toys and bags.

Then she walked into the Toy Room. It honestly looked like it hadn't been touched. While I could see some improvement, I'm a fairly-well trained eye. I knew where all those bags HAD been, but her friends who have never seen the room saw only mass mess. How would this room ever be ready for her move on Tuesday.

I assured them it would be ready. Truth is, I don't know how, either, but Don and I'll figure it out together. The problem for me isn't the mess of toys, or the bookshelf (which I've already moved into a nice space I made for it in the living room), it's the train table, the HUGE metal organizer with bins that Don bought last year hoping to put order in the room, and the several other storage units we've purchased and put in there over the years. That's a lot of furniture with no home.

When I woke up this morning, I headed straight for the Toy Room. My plan was just to get all the books out and moved back onto the bookshelf that now resides in the library/music room side of the living room. But as I began making piles of books that had not been on the bookshelf and were strewn all over the floor by some toddler avid reader, I realized that I first needed to make a path for myself. I began getting rid of junk. I filled up one garbage bag with toys to be sorted and two bags with trash and there is now at least half the room with nothing on the floor. Unbelievable how much progress you can make in a short time when it's Mommy doing the work, not Daddy and the kids. And nothing that I took out of the room ended up anywhere else in the house except for the trash that is now sitting neatly in front of our kitchen trashcan because I'm still in my jammies and don't want to offend the neighbors and the books which will end up organized and neatened up on the appropriate bookshelf.

While I was working, Don appeared in the Toy Room.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I responded, quite clueless to what he was talking about.

"I heard you moving around and have been sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you to make an appearance. Aren't you going to wrap Christmas presents? Have breakfast? Tell me what your plan for the day is? Get ready to go shopping?"

"I'm working on the Toy Room, hon," I said a little frustrated. Couldn't he see the progress I had made? Couldn't he tell how much had been accomplished in a short time? Did he even notice the beautiful hardwood floors that we haven't seen in two years?

Then it hit me. No, he didn't notice the progress, the hardwood floors, or the condition of the room. Don just doesn't zone in to stuff like "clean and neat". It makes absolutely no difference to him.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why the Toy Room was still so messy this morning and why we have toys strewn all over the house.

I'm praying the children turn out like me instead of like him - at least in THIS one area.

Men Sure Don't Do Things like Women!

Case in point: I'm trying to get a box out to Don's parents with their Christmas presents so it'll actually arrive before December 24. I wrapped all their presents, found a large box, and carefully fit all the gifts in it. I was just ready to tape it up and put an address label on it when I realized that the children may have presents for their Grandparents.

"Deanna," I bellowed, "don't you have presents for Grandma and Grandpa Doughty?"

"Well," she drawled, "I have something for Grandpa, but I haven't had a chance to get anything for Grandma yet."

"Go get me your present for Grandpa so I can get it in the box!"

Then I found the boys.

"Dane, don't you have Christmas presents for Grandma and Grandpa Doughty that I need to mail to them?"

Dane was watching afternoon cartoons and was very distracted. Half-heartedly, he responded, "Nope."

"Turn the TV off!" I instructed, sternly. When I finally had his full attention, I asked the question again.

"No, Mama. I don't have anything for anybody."

Now, that's just pitiful! I told him to follow me and marched into his bedroom. I found the box, still sitting in the corner, where we put it when he returned after his week in West Virginia. I put it on Daelyn's bed, began removing all the toys from the top and digging down to the stuff at the bottom. Sure enough, out I pulled several crafts projects I bought for him and left at Grandma's for him to work on while he was there over the summer. These crafts items were to be his Christmas presents to family members. There were paint-by-number paintings, refrigerator magnets, and stained glass light catchers just waiting to be painted. This was more than I could take. I had paid good money for those crafts and he hadn't done A SINGLE THING with them.

I chose my words very carefully, made sure I didn't holler at him, then pointed out the beautiful pieces he had the opportunity to make as gifts of love for his family.

"I better go work on them right now!" He grabbed the stained glass items and took off for the kitchen. Daelyn commented that he wanted to do some painting, too, grabbed the refrigerator magnets, and followed his brother.

I showed Dane how to paint the suncatchers. Don laid out newspaper for the boys and opened the paints. He got a cup of water for cleaning the paint brush inbetween colors. Just then, the phone rang and I had to handle an important matter. I left the room and went into the living room to finish my call. When I returned to the kitchen, Don said,

"Well, Dane had an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"A PAINT accident," he explained. Apparently, one of the paint buckets (little tiny things) had overturned and poured all over Dane and his clothes. Don was trying to clean him up.

A few minutes later, I walked past the halfbath. Dane's clothes were wet and were in a heap on the floor. I shook my head. Daddy had at least washed them out by hand, but they were on the floor of the bathroom, not in the laundry room.

I went into the kitchen to do a little more work on dinner when Dane appeared. He was wearing an old robe of Don's, had it on backwards with the belt tied in the back, and the bell sleeves came down 4 inches below his hands.

"Mama, could you please roll my sleeves up for me?"

"Son, why on earth are you wearing that robe?"

"Daddy said this would be my paint shirt from now on."

Paint shirt. A floor-length robe with sleeves almost as long - when Dane has at least 15 t-shirts that are ripped or are in poor shape.

Men sure don't do things like women!

Germs in, Germs out!

Yesterday we got a note that school tomorrow has been cancelled. YAY! Although . . . I still have a few Christmas presents for the children that I need to pick up and that may make it a little difficult. No worries. I'd rather have my children home, relaxing, or going to the Mall just for fun, than have them stuck in a classroom.

So, we're sitting at the breakfast table today. Dane's hunched over, letting the steam from his hot tea go up his nose. Deanna's coughing with a hack reminiscent of the cancer ward at the Veteran's Hospital. And Daelyn is slow-moving and grumpy, occasionally finding enough energy to cough long and hard. We've moved the Kleenex box to the kitchen table for convenience.

"Well," I comment, looking at the pitiful state of my family, "at least we can all sleep IN tomorrow."

"Are you gonna call the doctor and get us all appointments?" Deanna asks.

"Why? Do you think you need to see the doctor?"

You may not understand the importance of this question, but it is a clear guideline on just how sick she is. Deanna (and the other two children, as well) hates strept tests. She tries so hard to be good about it, but, in the end, she usually breaks down and cries. It hurts and it's just more than she can handle when she already feels bad. If she has a sore throat, she knows there's a risk Dr. Miller is going to do a strept test, so if she asks to go to the doctor, I know she feels REALLY bad.

"I really do, Mama," she responds, sadly. "I'm actually having trouble breathing and there's this sound in my chest when I breath. Besides, it'd be the perfect time. The other children will all be in school. We can go during the day and not have to wait."

Wishful thinking. Children are always sick and kept home from school to see the doctor. But she obviously feels rough and probably has a touch of pneumonia.

I gave her two puffs from Dane's rescue inhaler to follow the 12-hour Sudafed I had given her ten minutes earlier. The funny thing is that none of the children asked to stay home. Since school has been cancelled for tomorrow, all their teachers are trying to cram two day's worth of work into one day and the children understand how academically important today is. All the same, I'm calling the doctor. Deanna hasn't run a fever, but if she had pneumonia, she's probably contagious.

I don't know what they'll do about her being Mary in the school play tonight. Do you suppose anyone would notice that she was wearing a face mask?

A Letter to Monika

My dear friend from England, Monika, posted a comment on my entry from last Friday. She said that she got my Christmas card and it was the first one they received this year.

What she doesn't know is . . . the REST of the story!

I was determined to get all the cards for my friends in England and family and friends in Canada mailed out early. One of my uncles, Uncle Paul Hunt, lives in a town that's so small it has one business - that's the full extent of the town. Mail from us usually takes about two to three weeks to get to him, so I like to make sure I send out his card early enough that he actually gets it before Christmas. Several other family members live in similar remote areas, so I plan to get all the Canadian cards out around Thanksgiving. This year I had several to send to England, as well, and we discovered when living there that mail from the U.S. is not highly regarded and can take a VERY long time to arrive.

I wrote my Christmas letter, printed it on pretty Christmas snowflake paper and sat up late one night addressing labels. The next morning I wrote the cards, inserted one of my holiday letters and carefully sealed the envelopes. I put our return address labels and then checked the USPS website for postal rates to the UK and Canada. It took quite some time to piece together enough stamps to make the right postage, but I was diligent.

Our outgoing mail has to be clipped to the outside of our mailbox, so we can only send out 5 or 6 cards at a time. I took all the foreign ones, which turned out to be many more than 5 or 6 considering so much of my family lives in Canada, wrapped a rubberband around them and clipped them to the outside of my box. The rest of the cards that I had managed to get written I stuck in a stationery box and left on the dining room table.

The next day, I took 5 more cards out of the stationery box and clipped them to our mailbox. And thus it went for several days. I finally had only one batch of cards left to mail out when I discovered - woe is me - I had forgotten to put postage on all my U.S. cards!

I felt like an idiot. I had tried so hard to get the postage correct on the foreign cards, I had completely neglected the American ones. I chased the mailman down that afternoon and he told me that he hadn't noticed but that the machine at the main post office would spit them out and they'd be returned to me.

"I brought you back 3 today," he smiled as he gleefully commented.

"Thanks a lot!" I responded. I went inside and took every effort to cover up the red "Returned for Postage" stamp across the top of the envelope with postage stamps so my friends wouldn't know just how crazy I am this time of year. It's been several days and I hadn't gotten any more in the mail until today.

My brother's card, my in-law's card, and friends of ours from Don's hometown are the proud recipients of "Returned for Postage" cards. Unfortunately, the USPS stamped these ones a little wildly so I don't think I'll be able to cover up my sin with postage stamps.

I'm glad Monika got my card this early. I'm even happier it had postage on it.

Merry Christmas, my dear friend. I miss you terribly and that wonderful guy who shares your house (No, Monika, I don't mean Zeus!). I'm glad you had a good time at your reunion but next time, wear house slippers.

Wish you were here with us to celebrate Christmas instead of just exchanging cards and e-mails. Maybe next year?!?

All my love to you and have a wonderful holiday. And kisses from all the kids.

Patti

Time Well Spent

Daelyn's been asking me to take him to a local store that's way cool. They have an outdoor area where they sell trees and a little train that goes in a circle on rails. They decorate about 30 trees inside, each with a particular theme, then sell all the ornaments used on the tree in baskets around the tree. They have a whole room with exotic candies, salsa, barbecue sauces, etc. that always has a coffee urn with something delicious to taste and in the tree area there's hot boiled peanuts, sno-cones, popcorn, and cotton candy that can be bought. One area of the store has a huge display of a Dicken's Village with every piece you can buy. The children love to walk around and look at every detail. It's a really cool place and all my children love to go there.

It just so happens, all three of the children are in our church's Christmas Program Wednesday night and the school program Thursday night. I have the costumes already pulled together for Wednesday, but I'm struggling with Deanna's Mary costume and Dane's angel costume for Thursday. This store also has an awesome costume shop, so Don suggested I take a run by there and try to pick up angel wings for Dane. I decided we should go right after school today.

I called my friend, Kelly, to see if she wanted to join us with her children. My friend, Nicki, also decided to go with us. Nicki showed up about ten till three, we loaded Daelyn in the van, and headed to the school to pick up the other two and meet Kelly and her gang. I took along several plastic cups and paper bags, thinking in advance. This way, we could buy the large cup of boiled peanuts for $4.00, split it between several children in the plastic cups, and I could give a lunch sack to each child for the shells. I was quite proud of myself.

We arrived at the store and headed straight for the outdoor tree lot. On the way through the building, we asked the girl at the counter if we could use the train. Several years ago, the owners decided to leave the train intact but not to run it themselves because of liability. Guests are welcome to put their kids on the train and operate the switch themselves, making them solely responsible for any accidents. It makes no difference to me who throws the switch, as long as the children get to ride.

They all piled into the cars, whooping like a bunch of banshees. My friend and I threw the switch and the train began going in circles. The kids pulled wildly on the string that ran down the side of the train and was connected to the bell. After a few minutes, we turned it off, let them all trade places, and went another round.

After ten minutes or so, I left Kelly and Nicki with the kids and I went to look at angel wings. No success for me. They were all little, effeminate things with fur. One pair, which looked exactly how I imagine angels wings to look with feathers on the bottom and a thicker part near the top, were perfect except that they were purple. I talked with an employee who told me those were the only choices. We took apart the packaging on one angel costume and decided it was inappropriate. I finally, reluctantly, walked back around to the train. It was still running, the children were still hollering, and the bell was ringing loudly.

Surprised that they were still entertained, I stood for a moment watching. Deanna sat in the middle of the train, he knees tucked neatly under her chin, one hand in the air giving the royal wave to no one in particular - just for any admiring fans who happened to be watching. I cracked up. The one who was enjoying the toddler's train the most was the 11-year old.

I'm glad Deanna still appreciates the simple pleasures in life. Her innocence and purity are a blessing to the Lord, I'm sure. I watched in pleasure as she changed spots several times, being the engineer up front as well as bringing up the caboose.

When we finally drug the kids off the train, we walked through the store and looked at all the amazing and beautiful trees and ornaments. We looked over the Dicken's Village and sampled the Wassail that was in the silver urn. I let each of the children pick out a piece of rock candy for $.59 ea., then we headed back to the tree area to pick up our boiled peanuts and a bunch of fresh mistletoe.

We had a wonderful time, all had our fill of peanuts, and left having enjoyed a peaceful, fun afternoon. This is what the Christmas season should be all about - time spent with family and friends wasting time, doing fun stuff and relaxing together.

I have tons of work to do at home, but there's no sense having a house beautifully decorated and cards mailed out to half the country if you haven't spent any time with your children the entire month of December because you've been too busy.

So, I say, "Wake up and smell the boiled peanuts! Give that bell a tug! Share a cup of Wassail with your kids. Make Christmas merry instead of just busy."

... and to all a good night.

Interesting Sandman

It's been a very busy weekend. Friday night, Don and I attended our church Christmas Party, which started at 6:30. I made a nice meal for the children and babysitter, put my appetizers in a box, and off we took. We had a wonderful time, but it was a late night.

Saturday we bought our tree (right after the two older children's basketball games) and rushed home to welcome the company we had invited over to help us decorate our tree. This is our family tradition and one we love. The last guests left at 9:30 when Don put his foot down and sent the children off to bed.

Of course, everyone was up early again this morning. Why is it that children won't sleep in when they're tired. Daelyn got up, dressed for church, then began yelling at everyone and crying about nothing. He was just so tired, he couldn't see straight. Normally, I would have put him immediately to bed, but the children had a dress rehearsal at 1:00 for the Church Christmas Pageant and it was a required practice. Don and I had a hurried conference. He laid down with Daelyn and read him a book. Then Daelyn very clearly explained that he would not sleep unless Mommy laid down with him. I had a meeting at the church during the same timeframe as the dress rehearsal, so I sent Don off to church with the two older children. I was going to get Daelyn down for a quick nap, then take him for the rehearsal when I went to attend my meeting.

I wasn't sure if I could get him asleep quick enough for him to get any real rest. We had just 70 minutes before he needed to be up, get his shoes on, and be out the door. I explained how important it was that he fall asleep quickly, then finished the story Don had been reading to him, and snuggled up next to him. It took him about 7 minutes total to fall asleep, and the first 4 he spent fidgeting.

Once his breathing was deep and even, I snuck out of the room, made out the grocery list, and did a few other chores. I was just preparing to switch laundry loads when Daelyn appeared.

"Mommy, I feel much better now. Can I get up?" He had only slept about 40 minutes, but he DID look much more rested and had a better attitude.

"Sure, honey. You took a really good nap. You know, you were sleeping really deeply."

"That's because I was having a really interesting dream."

So that's the key to getting him to sleep, is it? Put ideas for interesting dreams into his head. I'll have to remember that next time I desperately need a nap and he won't settle down.

Sound Sleeper

Don called from work yesterday.

"How's the wiggly boy?" he asked.

"Which wiggly boy? And why are you calling one of the boys 'wiggly'? Did one of them show up in bed with us last night?" I asked

"You don't remember?"

"No. Not a bit. What happened?"

"About midnight Daelyn showed up at our bed."

"I don't remember. Did he say anything?"

"Yes, honey. You really don't remember?"

"NO, I DON'T! What did he say?"

"He said he couldn't breath."

"Did I say anything?"

"Yes."

"Well, TELL ME! What did I say to him?"

"You really don't remember this, do you?"

"Of course not. Do I sound like I remember? What did I say?"

"You said, 'Don't sit on the puppy.'"

Oh, lovely! That's a caring, concerned Mom for ya. Not only do I not remember any of this, I was also more concerned about the dog than my 5-yr. old who couldn't breath. Apparently he got through it. He was still breathing yesterday morning when he got up to dress for school. I guess it wasn't worth complaining about. Apparently, Mom didn't care!

Merry Christmas to you, too.

Murphy's Law

We're getting our Christmas tree this weekend and decorating it and the house. We always have a few friends over to help us decorate the tree. When I was single, I had a party affectionately referred to as my annual Pre-Christmas Party the day after Thanksgiving. For years I had this party to kick off the Holiday Season. Then Don and I married and that was MY thing, not OUR thing. He discouraged me from continuing my "single tradition" and look for something that was more a "family tradition". We came up with the idea of a tree decorating party the year after we were married and have done that ever since.

So I've been working very hard this week at putting the house in order and preparing for the tree. I had tons of Fall decorations to take down and an even larger ton of cleaning to do. I always rearrange the living room so the tree is our focal point, so that had to be done, as well. Yesterday I got the kitchen floor scrubbed and the dining room cleaned up. Today I swept and thoroughly mopped the dining room, then laid a coat of wax on the hardwood in two separate section.

Wouldn't you know, as soon as I had laid down the coat on the section nearest the front door, the doorbell rang - a pecan customer. While the floor was drying, I sat in the kitchen and ate lunch, catching up on some correspondence I needed to read. No knocks on the door, no doorbells to disturb me. Then I move the dining room table onto the dry side and began work on the half nearest the kitchen, painting myself in, which was fine for me, because I prepared beforehand. I locked the front door, took my purse into the kitchen, and prepared to pick Daelyn up from school, when . . . you guessed it - the doorbell and another pecan customer.

While the floor has been wet, I've sold at least 20 pounds to about 6 different customers. In each case, I had to run around the house from the back door and meet my customer in the yard. The last gentlemen that showed up laughed when I told him of my plight and said,

"Maybe you ought to wax the floor more often. Perhaps that's what's attracting customers!"

That - and Murphy's Law.

Think She's a Little Distracted?

Deanna, while unpacking her backpack today after school: "Mom, did you read the thingamagig about the whatchamacallit? No, you couldn't have, because it was about that . . . okay. It doesn't . . .

Work it, Baby!

The Holiday Rush has hit. I'll survive if I can just keep my priorities in order.

Work the priorities and everything will get done. First, get the Christmas cards done and in the mail. Some have to go to Canada, some to England. They need to be done first and mailed out immediately if they're to make it before Christmas.

Once the cards are gone, I can focus on cleaning and decorating. And baking. But not all at the same time. We're having our tree decorating party this Saturday, so the decorations need to be down out of the attic, some sweets made, and the house in order.

Next week I can worry about finishing my shopping (which is very nearly done) and work on more wrapping. I've already wrapped a good many gifts and I know from my experience last year that I can wrap all my gifts ( or at least throw them in gift bags) in 3 days.

The week after that (IS there a week after that?) I can do more baking, wander around the house listening to Christmas music, and do the fun stuff.

If I just work the priorities I'll get it all done. Where is cooking dinner and doing laundry on my priority list?

The Wild Side

I was the successful bidder on a Creme Brulee jar candle on Saturday. Yesterday, while making omelettes for the children, I lit the candle and put it next to me on the bar counter, safe from the pup, the children . . .

I was humming and cooking when I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to the left to discover that I WAS ON FIRE! Flames were shooting out of my left pajama arm and back. I slapped at them with my right hand. They must have just erupted because my pajamas were a little yellow afterwards but unburned. I smelled a little like burnt wood the rest of the day.

I asked Don if my hair had been on fire. I wasn't sure if it was just my pajamas or me, too. He said he hadn't seen it and didn't know. When the children wandered back into the house from the backyard, I told them my story.

"How'd you put the flames out, Mama," one of the boys asked.

I paused for a minute. I had to really think. How HAD I put the flames out? I knew it was an instinctive action. I hadn't reached for a dishtowel or anything else. It must have been my bare hand. I was a little reluctant to tell the boys.

"Mom?" he repeated.

"I think I used my hand, honey," I mumbled.

"Hand? You used your hand? You could have burned yourself, Mama. That's dangerous."

That's me! Mrs. Danger - livin' on the edge! Caught on fire by my Creme Brulee candle. Yee-haw!

Fasten your seatbelts, folks. Mom's an adventurer. Maybe today I'll play with a flashlight!

Too Far?

We survived the Silent Auction. Don, the kids and I got home last night about 10:30, got them ready for bed, then sat and talked about how things had gone - positives (things we'd like to do that way again) and negatives (let's try and come up with a better way). On the grand scale, there were WAY more positives than negatives and, while we spent a good bit of time brainstorming the biggest negative, we really didn't see any other way to do things.

The problem we had was that the Lots were not in numeric order. The bidding sheets were scattered across 11 tables with no numeric rhyme or reason. But they had been placed logistically based on the size of the item and for aesthetics. Each table had some physical items to attract attention. The largest items, the ones that wouldn't fit on the tables, were displayed across the front of the gymnasium stage. The bid sheets for those items we placed on the first row of tables on the side opposite the side nearest the stage, so you could walk down the row, read the item name, glance up and be looking RIGHT at the very item. It took a fair amount of work to make it visually interesting and simple to find the items that weren't displayed on the tables and we had to switch items out several times during set-up. Add to that items being delivered to our door, of which we had no prior knowledge, Saturday afternoon one hour before the second auction, and you'll understand that it was extremely difficult to just keep order in a chaotic situation.

Don and I agreed that the only way we could make the numbers on the lots make any sense was to REALLY, FIRMLY cut off donations one week before the auction. But we know that's not realistic and we'd be shooting ourselves in the foot. Some of the best items we received came at the last minute. So this is a negative with which we'll just have to live.

We considered publishing a flier of the items up for bid sometime before the auction (or at least the ones we have at that point) so people have a chance to plan. We may try to do some of that next year. All-in-all, it was a very fun day and fruitful. If all items won are paid for and picked up, we will have made $4,940. Not bad for having started so late in the game.

There was one casualty to the day - Deanna. We pretty much gave her free reign. She was in a protected environment where she knew almost everyone and she's pretty mature. We made sure she checked in with us often and that we always knew where she was, but we let her come and go as she pleased.

Most of her time was spent shopping. There was a huge yardsale - probably the biggest yardsale I've ever seen - and a Country Store that was selling cute crafts and gift items. The big ticket there were tropical-flavored candycanes with reindeer horns and eyes glued on for $.10. How could you pass them up? There also was a bakery with amazing, wonderful stuff. Deanna found some wonderful Christmas presents at the yardsale and at the Store and was VERY pleased with her purchases. Several times throughout the day, she'd run up to where I was talking to a customer asking questions or a worker asking questions and blurt out, "Mama, guess what?" In most situations, I replied that I needed her to show me later because I was very busy. In the afternoon between the two auctions, I took time to look over all her gifts and once or twice at the Festival took the time to look and comment, but not near as often as she wanted to show me. Sitting at the table last night after all was said and done, I realized that she probably had been hurt by my inattentiveness. I apologized for not being very available. She hung her head and I thought I saw a tear. While she really did understand that I was unbelievably busy, it still hurt. I'm her Mama, the closest person in the world to her, and she wanted to share her excitement.

I don't know that I could have done anything differently. This is one of those times where my humanness eats my lunch. I had a job to do and when customers were asking for help, it had to come first. All the same, I've wounded my little girl, the only one I have. Customers come and go, daughters only go.

I plan on spending a good bit of time with my little girl looking over all her Christmas presents today and inventorying all her stuff. Perhaps I can, in some little way, make up to her my loss of interest yesterday.

And pull her close again before she wanders too far afoot.

Meanderings

My parents left this past Monday on a Mission Trip to Ghana and Togo. I've been unsettled in my spirit about this trip all week. Perhaps it's just that it's so close to Christmas and there's so much going on in my own life right now. But the more prayers for their protection going up the happier I'll be.

We have heard from them. They arrived safely in Ghana and then were heading up north into the mountains. A member of the church in Sparta, Georgia that my father pastored for several years has gone with them and he called his wife yesterday. He said they were at a Welcome Center and he had borrowed someone's phone to make contact. He said they were doing fine and having a blessed time.

And still I worry. It's not that worry is foreign to me, it's just that I'm usually very secure about my parents while they're on their Mission trips, so this is pushing me a little off my stride.

Please add them to your prayer list. And my family, in their absence, could use prayer, also - my sisters and brother, my nieces and nephews, my children and husband. When my parents do missions, we seem to come under a huge amount of attack. The devil tries to hit them where it hurts the most - their children and grandchildren.

My niece who is a legislator on Capitol Hill called twice yesterday. I haven't heard from her in over a year. She stays in close contact with my parents and speaks to them several times a week. After we hung up, it occurred to me that she's missing Grandpa, too, and thus the call to me. We were just sitting down to dinner when the phone rang, so I was a little distracted. Then Don walked through the door from work, so the timing wasn't great and I'm not sure that I did justice to our conversation, but it was good to hear her voice, all the same.

Oops! The phone's ringing and someone just rang the doorbell. Better run for today!

Time Spurts

Don and I are in charge of a Silent Auction at this year's big fund-raising event for the school - the Christmas Festival. People have been calling and dropping items and donation sheets off at the house all day.

And since I've been at the school the last three days and unavailable to sell pecans, my customers are also pouring into the driveway.

So much for trying to clean and get ready for our Christmas tree. I have to stay in the front of the house, but I needed to set up the boy's new hardwood dresser in their room that matches their bunkbeds and get rid of the old, pressed board ones whose drawers are, literally, falling apart. All their clothes needed to be sorted and transferred and the floor and walls cleaned. I've tried to accomplish this job in snips of time - between the phone and the doorbell ringing.

But things are coming along quite well for the auction. We've gotten several nice items today and Don should be able to finish all the data entry tonight so we can spend tomorrow setting up. I got all the errands run today, too. Barely. As I was taking my purse, the package and Christmas cards (my mothers, not mine - I should be so lucky) that I needed to drop at the Post Office out to the car, a man pulled into the driveway and asked if I'd wait to go and sell him some pecans first. I was glad to take his money.

So I attempt to get my chores done - in little spurts of 5 - 10 minutes. But I remember to be thankful because the interruptions either mean more money for the school or more for my furniture fund, both of which are good!

Soap Blobs

Well, the Third Graders seemed to survive my Math lesson. Today was my day to help in the Kindergarten class and the Administrative Assistant saw me in the hallway and told me that none of the children had missed any of the problems where they had to solve for the unknown. I was thrilled although I can't take credit because the parents got the job of explaining that one.

I led Deanna's Little Sister's group today. It's similar to Campfire Girls or Girl Scouts and this was my first time leading this year. I decided to teach them about soap. I borrowed my mother's Canadian cookbook that actually tells you what fats to use and how to clean and render them for soap-making - quite informational. I got there early and was all set up. I decided to take the 9 girls three at a time while the remaining six sang songs with the other leader. I had three colors, three scents, and several different molds for them to choose from. Of course, Deanna wanted to try something more exotic - she wanted to swirl two different colors in her soapbase. All her friends were suitably impressed with her finished product.

The girls listened attentively while I talked about saponification, lye, and the commonly-held story of how soap was discovered. I read from the cookbook and answered questions - lots and lots of questions. We talked about how the pioneers wasted nothing, even their old fat and the ashes from their fires were used to make soap. We talked about how simple our life is by comparison and how the world has changed significantly during my lifetime. It was an interesting and fun exercise and the girls really seemed focused and interested.

The most amazing part, at least to me, was that they were more interested in the skin of the soap left behind in the Pyrex measuring cups that we used for melting the soapbase in the microwave than in the actual soaps they each made. Everyone of them, without exception, asked if they could have the hunk of soap that I peeled off the bottom of the measuring cup to clean it out and prepare it for the next girl to use. I finally decided to stop fighting it and saved all the skins for them. I even made two extra for two of the girls who didn't have ones.

The "ooh's" and "ah's" were unbelievable. Each one had to touch every other girl's blob. They compared blob colors and sizes. They compared the texture on the bottom of the blob and discussed why some were different. The blobs were much more popular than the beautiful molded soaps they made. Go figure.

The most important thing, however, is that they had fun and learned something, to boot. They all probably know more about soap and soap-making than almost every adult they know. And they each had their pretty little scented soap to use in the shower tonight.

One girl missed the meeting - we called to check on her and was told she had something else she had to do. Deanna was concerned in the car on the way home that tomorrow in school all the girls will be talking about their soaps (and now we all realize, their blobs, as well) and this girl will be left out. There's nothing I can do about that, except pray for her and hope she doesn't miss any future meetings.

Here's hoping the other two I do this year will be as big a hit!

Is this Modern Math?

I've been substitute teaching in Dane's class the last two days. Yesterday went fabulously well. We flew through the morning, enjoying every minute. We got so much done that we had about an extra 1 1/2 hours in the afternoon to work on Christmas posters. I begged some soft music off of one of the other teachers and put on a nice CD, playing softly in the background while the children worked on their art. Ah! What a peaceful, joyous day.

This morning, I went in expecting another of smooth sailing. The morning went well, though drug a little more than yesterday. Then we hit the afternoon - math, right after lunch recess.

The lesson was solving for an unknown number, such as "n" or "a". I taught this same lesson to Deanna's 4th grade class last year and Deanna told me afterwards that I stunk. There were only about 6 kids in the class that got it. I got heavily critiqued that evening by a self-conscious daughter. So, here I was, facing the same lesson with children a year younger.

To add to the difficulty, the 4th graders had already been introduced to this idea in 3rd grade. However, I was teaching the 3rd graders today, making it doubly hard. I explained the concepts, clearly defined the rules (whatever you do to one side of the equation, you MUST do to the other side), then looked at the first of 3 problems they gave for the children to solve. Uh-oh! The problem began n-2=6+3. -2. The 3rd graders don't know about negative numbers yet. How do I explain to them how to make 2 equal to zero so you can isolate the n?

I tried drawing a line across the board and putting 0 in the middle, explaining that numbers below zero are written as a - number. I tried pretending there was an imaginery line through the classroom that was 0 and I took 4 giant steps to the right, then asked how I would get back to 0 again. Dead stares.

Ultimately, I decided to skip the whole negative number concept. I told them that if the equation had a minus sign, plus the same number on both sides. If it had a plus sign, minus the same number on both sides. Unfortunately, by then they were thoroughly confused.

Up next on the agenda was a speed drill. As the kids looked vacantly around the room, I knew I was in trouble. I had them put their pencils down and stand up, planning some deep breathing and exercise to clear their heads and get the oxygen pumping to their brains. Dane, on the front row, stood up and began to cry.

"What's wrong, honey?" I bellowed across the room, disturbed that my baby was crying.

"My stomach hurts and my heads hurts, Mama," he whimpered. I called him to me, placed his head against my chest and snuggled him in front of all his classmates. Dane has a stomach problem and takes medication. Last week the doctor double his medication to twice a day, but we keep forgetting to give him his morning dose. The stress of unknowns and negative numbers was just too much for him. He was really feeling sick.

I had a headache, too, as did most of the students. It was just a little too much. Finally, I encouraged the students to take their math books home and have their parents explain this concept to them. What I cop-out I am. They ought to fire me as a sub.

At a meeting I attended this evening, I asked a friend of mine about her daughter who's in Dane's class and has been out sick the last two days. The mom told me she's been running a high fever and was hallucinating but is better and will return to school tomorrow.

"All I have to say," I told her, "is that she ought to be glad she wasn't there today. She would've felt worse by the end of the day."

Perhaps the 4th grade teacher will have more luck next year. If not, they might need to consider changing the curriculum so that the introduction to solving for the unknown doesn't include a second difficult topic such a negative numbers. You can add the negative numbers into the lessons once the children have the basic concepts of unknowns down.

Either that or fire the sub.

Rain . . . bow

I have a nephew who lives in Atlanta and another at UGA in Athens, GA. Over Thanksgiving, we talked about the drought and how badly Atlanta has been hit. I told them the little ditty my California sister taught me one summer while I was visiting: "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down."

Both nephews said they've heard the same ditty coming out of the mouth of the Governor (of Georgia, not California, although Arnold's predecessor in CA was the originator of this little saying, I'm told). Apparently, things are PRETTY bad.

We discussed water conservation efforts. I suggested the Governor ban Deanna from showers. Then there'd be no drought at all. Her grown male cousins thought that was hilarious and kidded her mercilessly.

It's been raining of and on all day today - lovely, wet rain. We need it, but not near as badly as Atlanta needs it. This evening, before settling down to dinner, I noticed a break in the rain and took the pup out for a tinkle trip. The sky was amazingly light and had a strange glow. I was looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of the dipping sun in the West. When I didn't succeed, I turned to the East and saw the most amazing, full, clear rainbow, going from one point on the low horizon in a complete semi-circle, disappearing into the horizon at the opposite end of the earth. Just short of the glowing rainbow was a second shadowy bow, not clearly visible but definitely more than a hint.

I was struck by God's promise to mankind. A rainbow is so staggeringly beautiful all by itself but, add to that the significance, and it's unbeatable.

I hate that Atlanta's in a serious drought, but the rain and the ensuing rainbow were a blessing to behold.

God loves Deanna enough to make up for some of her showers, anyway.

Familiarity

Happy Thanksgiving! I'm thankful this day for the freedoms that we enjoy in this country, for being able to love the Lord and worship as I choose.

I'm thankful for my husband and beautiful children. I'm thankful for my parents who live just 5 doors up from us and for my sisters, brother, and their families. I'm thankful for my home - not only a roof over my head, but a cozy, happy place that more than meets our needs. I'm thankful for the quality of life that we're able to have because my husband has a good job. I'm thankful for my neighbors and friends, my church, that there are laws in this country to protect me and my family, and I'm thankful for all those who sacrifice so that we might have this protection - soldiers, fire personnel, policemen, as well as pastors, crossing guards, and librarians.

Basically, I'm thankful. I love life, I love the Lord, and I love His Church.

Last year at this time, we were in England. The children and I left the Saturday before Thanksgiving and landed on Sunday morning. A driving service picked us up, attempted to load our luggage, me and the children, then took us to our hotel, which we came to love, although the first day wasn't the best. By Thursday, the kids and I felt like we had England by the tail. We had taken buses and trains, walked for miles, been to Church, eaten English foods, including going to a Pub, been blown over by the wind, and trudged through the rain to do whatever we wanted to do, because it always rained.

I didn't miss Thanksgiving. Being in England was an adventure! We called home and talked to the family, but we didn't yet miss the familiar things. Thanksgiving was just another day in Warrington. The thing that I really DID miss was having Don home. He had to work all day, which seemed wrong to me. Most of the Americans who worked in his office had flown home for the weekend. There were only 4 left, of which Don was one. One of his co-workers made some phone calls and found a restaurant that served what we would consider a traditional Thanksgiving meal - turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes . . . She made reservations for us and the other 3 Åmericans left behind. The children and I took a train, then a bus to arrive at the Toby's Carvery where we were to meet Don and his friends. They arrived by taxi and we had a wonderful meal. It was the first time I met Jeannie, Peggy, and Richard whom we later became very close to.

It was late, but it did feel like Thanksgiving, although everything was very different. The stuffing was served in hard balls. The turkey had mint sauce with it. There was nothing to drink that seemed American to us. But it was a close rendition.

I've really missed England since returning home. But, over the last 2 weeks, I've begun to be thankful for being home. As England recedes into the distance of my memory, I appreciate more the goodness and fullness of the life I have here. While it was an experience I will never regret and am very glad we had, I'm equally glad to be home this year and enjoying "life as we know it".

Things here are easier. Perhaps because there's a rhythm to our life here that we never quite found in England. Or perhaps we're just too American. In any case, we're in Georgia this Thanksgiving and I'm happy we are.

Hope each of you have a day filled with a depth of happiness that outlives even your best memories.

God bless!

Holiday Bug

There's something about the weather being cool and an imminent holiday. The kids just wanted to be outside. The whole neighborhood, or so it seemed, gathered in the backyards until well after dark. Daelyn had a friend over and some others friends of my sons', who live in the next block down, came over, too. It was a glorious evening.

We discovered during dinner, which was late because of that glorious evening (which ended with Don, who's off this week, playing baseball with all our children), that Dane had not done all his homework. Apparently, he had a lot because he was very late for school yesterday due to an appointment with the Allergist at 9 a.m. He also has two major tests today for which he needed to study. Unbeknownst to me, he had given into temptation and gone out to play before all the schoolwork was done. We sent him away from the table to get his homework completed and he ended up in the kitchen, half an hour after bedtime, working with Don to get it done.

All the same, you can taste the holidays. This morning I was up early and more rested than I have been lately. I made a nice hot breakfast, then sat with the children to drink a cup of coffee. While at the grocery store yesterday buying our supplies for Thanksgiving, I found a new seasonal coffee creamer - Gingerbread. I bought a bottle and tried it out this morning. I let both Deanna and Dane have a taste. It's delicious and it was quite impossible to keep the image of golden roasted turkeys and hot pumpkin pie, chestnuts burning the ends of my fingers and the smell of bonfires out of my mind. I could almost feel the holidays, if that's possible.

Perhaps I'm so tuned in this year because we were gone last year. Or maybe England and the cool weather in the land of Dickens just sensitized me more. It could even be the shopping spree last Saturday that focused my thoughts and emotions. Perhaps the pecans are candidates for the excitement I'm beginning to feel building in my chest - that sense of anticipation of wonderment just around the corner.

Whatever is causing it, I can now report that the Holiday Bug has bit me and the rest of my family. We're eager while lingering over every moment along the way.

Life should always feel like this. I'm glad the Holidays remind me.

Sleepyhead

Tuesday's are linen-washing day. Guess who was too tired to get up this morning as I was stripping the bed around him? He's just not a morning . . .

Child, cover thy nakedness!

Don has decided to have Family Prayers each evening. I always have prayer time with the children but, because of his work schedule, we've never been able to come up with a workable time to do them with Daddy present.

Last week, he woke me up at 4:30 a.m. one morning to talk. Not exactly MY idea of the perfect time, but I'll take it when I can get it. He mentioned the issue of family prayers again and we set out to find a solution. The children don't get up until after he's already gone to work in the morning, and he usually doesn't get home from work until 6:30 - 7:00 p.m. With the children going to bed at 7, it's a bit of a problem. But we decided to try and gather just before the children's bedtime for a few minutes. Some nights this won't work, like Wednesday's, when we're at church during that timeframe. But if we even manage to hit 5 nights out of 7, that would be GREAT!

Lest you think Don is a sadist, there were several other important issues we needed to discuss but just hadn't been able to carve out the time. And I was going to be gone all day Saturday with a group from church on a bus trip to Commerce, GA to the Tanger Outlet Center Christmas shopping. I left the house at 6:30 a.m. and got home at 10:45 p.m. - not too much time for talking about family issues. And Sunday was going to be almost as bad. Don and I had to drive to church separately because the handbells were playing and he had to be there early. I had to lay out clothes for the boys for Work Party on Saturday morning and church clothes for Sunday on Friday night before I left for shopping. It was a hectic weekend - hectic, but fun.

So - - - last night I sent Dane to get his bath while I was putting the finishing touches on dinner. Daelyn had fallen asleep on the couch, complaining of a headache which was really just exhaustion. Deanna's bath takes forEVER! so I asked her to get everything ready so she could jump into the shower as soon as dinner was done. In other words, lay out her pajamas and do everything possible in advance to minimize her shower time. Half of the time it takes her to shower is preparing.

I sent Dane to gather her when we were ready to sit down. Dane was in his new Christmas p.j.'s that I bought him at the OshKosh outlet (just a little premature) and Deanna showed up in her robe. As we were sitting, she announced,

"Mom, you'll be very happy to know that everything is ready for my shower. I'm even naked underneath my robe, so I don't even have to undress before I get in the shower."

Me: "Oh, lovely, dear. We all really needed to hear that you're sitting at the table naked."

Deanna, stifling a laugh: "Well, I'm not really naked. I have on a robe."

Dane: "You ARE naked, Sis. Gross."

Deanna: "I'm just as naked as you, Dane. I have a robe on."

Me: "Well, not exactly, Deanna. He's fully clothed."

Deanna, out-and-out giggling: "Well, at least I'll be ready for my shower right after dinner."

Don and I might have to have another 4:30 a.m. meeting if evening prayers means Deanna has to come to the dinner table naked (or half-naked). Oh, me! The plight of motherhood.

Pecan Frenzy

Pecan business has been great this year. Deanna has already made $50.00 and still has more pecans to sell. She's also steadily picking more for poor mama to sort and bag.

I've never seen a year like this. The last two have been terrible. The trees just didn't produce. They say that pecan trees rest every seventh year, so the first year we were expecting a poor crop. But, then, to have another poor crop the next year was upsetting. I depend on pecans for my baking. I always shell several pounds and freeze the meat. I had completely run out and found myself at the grocery store buying pecans at $8.99/lb. during the year. It was a travesty! I live in a pecan orchard and I had to buy them at the store!

So this year, I'm shelling tons to replenish my stock. One year I shelled and froze 17 cups of nuts. I'm about on par with that this year.

The amazing thing is that the nuts seem to just be flying out the door. People love our pecans fresh from the orchard, and always have, but usually sales are slower. One year we had just sat down to Thanksgiving Dinner at Grandma's house - all 22 of us - when the doorbell rang. A woman with an entourage asked if she could buy some pecans from my father. Her family had decided that they wanted a pecan pie and she was trying to oblige. Papa jumped up from the table and made the sale. Now, why couldn't she have come the day before? Or, at least, early in the day. But right during Thanksgiving Dinner? My father didn't care. He was happy to have the customers.

Last Friday, Don was doing yardwork in the front yard. Dane was home sick with his stomach bug and wandered around the front yard with his daddy. Suddenly, people started descending on our house. I suppose it was because they saw him in the yard and knew someone was home. I actually had people knocking on the front and back doors at the same time. As one car would pull out of the driveway, another would pull in. I'd complete a sale, walk back into the kitchen, and the doorbell would ring again. It was madness. I finally told Don that we only had four pounds left to sell and I had better go and pick. As I was walking down the street, I saw a car pull into the driveway. In a few minutes, Don appeared with the dog.

"Did we sell out?" I asked.

"Yep! It's a good thing you're picking more."

Yesterday was the same way, without Don in the front yard. I sold 25 pounds in one hour. And everyone who's bought from us has asked how much longer we'll have nuts, because they think they might want more.

The only thing I can figure is that after two bad years, everyone's afraid we'll sell out (which is quite likely) and wants to make sure they get their nuts, so they're flocking to our house early in the season. It's great. I'd love to sell completely out before Thanksgiving and not have to mess with pecans anymore while I prepare for Christmas.

In the meantime, I dutifully sort through the children's bags and take out leaves, sticks, hulls, and bad pecans. It's a dirty job, and I have to wash my hands repeatedly. But they're making money and it's not coming out of MY pocket. It'd take a lot of lost teeth to make $50.00 from the .75 the tooth fairy leaves.

After all, isn't that what Mom's are for?

Fast Old Guy

After finishing his homework today, Daelyn ran over to Grandma and Grandpa's house. I was out picking pecans when Daelyn tracked me down.

"Mama, Grandpa needs you to take him to the drugstore."

"Okay," I responded. "It's almost time to pick up your brother and sister from school so we'll need to leave right now. We'll swing by the drugstore, then go to the school. Would you run over to his house and tell him?"

Several minutes passed and Daelyn didn't return. I made my way over to my parent's. My father was standing in the kitchen with the back door open.

"Papa," I called to him, "we need to go now if I'm going to run you by the drugstore."

He was on the phone with my nephew but paused in his conversation to tell me he'd be along momentarily. I started for home to drop off Donovan, who was pecan-picking with me, and my pecan picking paraphenalia. On my slow way home, Daelyn joined me.

"Where's Grandpa?" I asked him. It was taking him a very long time and, already, we had used up the extra time. I needed to leave to pick up the other kids.

"He's coming right behind me," Daelyn said, turning around and looking behind him. Then, a little nervously, "He'll be along any minute." Finally, as if to convince himself, "You know, he walks pretty fast for an old guy."

I choked on a laugh. Sure enough, by the time we reached our yard, Papa was coming up fast behind me. He headed straight for the van while I dropped things inside and grabbed the keys. When I reached the van, I repeated Daelyn's remark.

"He knows, Mama. I already told him."

Gift Ideas

My in-law's have been e-mailing me for weeks asking for suggestions for Christmas presents. I've asked the children, oh, I don't know - maybe 300 times each. No ideas. Not a single one, except, of course, for the $80 wheelies, which I REFUSE to tell Grandma and Grandpa about.

Yesterday, while they were out of school, we went to the Mall. Deanna needed new jeans and some winter clothes, Dane needed a school sweater, Daelyn needed lunch.

Guess who arrived on Sunday? Santa. Unbelievable. How can he possibly get all his work done at the North Pole when he's sitting in Malls weeks before Thanksgiving? Does he have a new head elf who's taken control? Is he tired of making presents and would rather dilly-dally in stores across America than prepare for "the big day"? And what about Thanksgiving? Have we completely forgotten that holiday in our rush towards Christmas? Last year, we found that very problem in England. We arrived the beginning of Thanksgiving week. The Christmas decorations had already been out for so long that they were broken and pushed aside in most businesses. It made me incredibly sad to see my favorite holiday turned into such a commercial push.

However, there sat Santa. And there was no line of children waiting to sit on his lap. My kids looked pleadingly at me. Okay, okay. We all trudged over to the escalator and took it down to Santa.

Daelyn and Dane ran right up to him. Daelyn climbed easily onto one knee. Santa put out the other for Dane. Deanna hung back with me.

The boys talked and talked to Santa. In the meantime, the girl who worked there came over to me and we talked about needing to put a microphone on Santa so parents could hear the conversation. Daelyn and Dane finally finished and walked over to me. Deanna moved close to Santa to have her private conversation.

"Mama," Daelyn started, "he's a very nice man, even if he isn't the real Santa."

The girl looked at me funny. I smiled and attempted to offer an explanation.

"My children have met the "REAL" Santa," I explained. About that time, Deanna walked back up to us.

"Yeah," she said, "twice. We're on a first-name basis with the real Santa."

It was Dane's turn. "We met him twice in two different states."

The girl stared at me. I smiled back.

It's easy to be happy when you're on a first-name basis with Santa. She just doesn't understand because she's not.

I wish I could have heard what the children said, though. Grandma could use some ideas.

Many Names

The kids are out of school - it's a teacher's work day. The kids still woke up early, as usual.

Daelyn came and climbed into bed with me to play with Donovan. I was woken out of a deep sleep by something wet on my belly. My pajama top had pulled up a little and Donovan had managed to climb under the covers. When he saw skin, he began licking. Yuck!

I called the kids into my bedroom and suggested that we all dress warmly and take off for the backyards to pick pecans. They fall early in the morning - probably because of the dew and warming up process. We threw on coats and headed out, with me promising to feed them a big breakfast after 1/2 hour of good pickin'.

An hour later (they were everywhere - it was hard to stop), Daelyn began complaining.

"I'm starving, Mama!"

"You're not Starving, son. Your name is Daelyn," I joked.

"No, I'm starving," he pushed.

"I'm your mother. I named you. I promise, your name is Daelyn, not Starving."

"Well, my name may be Daelyn, but in the food department, I'm Starving!"

Snowmen from the Nether-parts

The weather has been much cooler this week. We've even had below freezing temps two mornings in a row. The backyard was covered in frost and Donovan refused to tinkle on the grass.

Don and I have a retreat this weekend and the children will be staying with our friend, Uncle Ken, tomorrow and his new son, Ryan (he married a woman with a young son in May). Before we left this evening for the opening of the retreat, I encouraged the children to lay out their clothes for tomorrow so the morning would be peaceful. Deanna came into the bathroom, where I was getting ready, and started to complain that she had no warm clothes.

"What happened to all the things we bought last year to take to England?" I asked.

"What things?" Deanna responded.

"I bought you a couple of pairs of sweats, honey - a burgundy pair and a blue pair. Where are they? Do they still fit you? You better go try them on and show me."

Grudgingly, Deanna went to her room. In a few minutes, she reappeared in the burgundy sweats. They were long enough and looked very warm and cuddly, perfect for a cool winter morning, but were a little voluminous. Deanna's at that age where she wants things to fit snugly. I knew I was in for a bit of a battle. They just weren't "cool". In an effort to convince her that this outfit would work nicely, I gushed just a little.

"That's great, honey. They still fit you. And they'll keep you nice and warm!"

"I can't wear these," Deanna yelled. "I look like the Abdominal Snowman!"

Exhausting sickness

Dane's still feeling puny. I took him to the doctor today to be sure it wasn't strep again. Once last year, the school called me because Dane threw up at school. I went to pick him up and noticed he had a rash on his body. The combination of rash and vomiting scared me, so I took him to the Pediatrician. Surprise! He had strep throat and scarlet fever although he had never complained of his throat hurting. I learned a hard lesson about Dane - watch him like a hawk and ALWAYS suspect he has more than meets the eye.

So we made a trip to Dr. Miller. Dane lay on the bench in his waiting room, rolling from side to side with a bucket pressed against his face, crying and moaning. He was pretty pitiful. I finally asked if they could go ahead and put us in a treatment room for the sake of the other patients in the waiting room.

No strep this time, just a virus. Dane was a sad case and Dr. Miller felt bad for him. But he said I could give him Tylenol for the cramping and he should feel better in a day.

We were laying in my bed snuggling and trying to take a nap when Daelyn's carpool dropped him off. I heard the kitchen door open and then Daelyn walking down the hallway on his way to my bedroom. Then he appeared at my side.

"Take off your backpack, son, and climb in here next to me so I can snuggle you," I suggested.

Daelyn dropped his backpack to the floor and began kicking off his shoes.

"Wow, Mom, it was an exhausting day!"

You're five, son, and only in school until 1 p.m. If you think this is exhausting, wait until you're a parent with a sick child who never sleeps.

I guess everything's relative - and my relative was exhausted today.

Unexpected Freedom

Dane's home from school sick. He was complaining of his throat and stomach hurting yesterday morning before school. I assumed it was post-nasal drip from the temperature change and getting food on his belly would help. He never said anything else about feeling bad - until I picked him up from school.

Apparently, he told his teacher after lunch that he felt terrible. He had worsened and wanted to call me. She encouraged him to try and push through. If she knew Dane better, she would know that he's not a complainer and, if he told her he felt bad, he REALLY felt bad. But he was obedient and pushed through the rest of the day.

As we came in the house, he started to cry. I sent him in to lay down on my bed and got the thermometer. No fever. I got him in more comfortable clothes, worked on his homework with him, and made sure he had a throw-up bucket. Then I went to start dinner. I saw my father walking through the backyard and around to the front, so I hollered out the door to him that he needed to come in and pray over his grandson.

A few minutes later, Grandpa walked into the kitchen with Daelyn on his heels, announcing that Dane was throwing up. I found him on the couch in the den, feeling miserable.

He fell asleep on the couch later and got a good night's sleep, but he's still feeling puny. I had to call the Kindergarten teacher and tell her I wouldn't be able to be in today, which puts her in a very tight spot. I hoping everything will be alright.

In the meantime, it gives me an unexpected day to work on the house. The children have been picking pecans to sell and my father loaned me one of his "Pecans for Sale" sign and put it up in the front yard for me, so I need the get the ones the kids have picked bagged up for sale. That's first on the Agenda, then cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.

The air is crisp and I've lit an apple pie scented candle. It dropped below freezing last night. It's invigorating and perfect temperatures to prepare for Christmas.

Dane's lying on the floor in the den watching the Mommy-edited version of "Walk the Line", the Johnny Cash story, and I'm attacking the dining room. Having a sick child is always hard, but having Daelyn home is much worse. At least Dane is my quiet one.

Unless he's throwing up, that is.

Moving On to Other Things

I did my Crafts Show on Saturday. Dane really wanted to go with me. I was afraid he'd be bored, but he took a book just in case. He did great and never did get out his book. He shopped, went and got breakfast for me and boiled peanuts for himself, shopped some more, then did a little shopping. He was great company (when he wasn't off shopping and spending all my profits) and I'm glad I took him with me.

I did quite well, considering this was my first show. A couple of the vendors near me told me that I did much better than them, which made me feel very good. I ended up just $3.00 short of the goal I had set for myself, which was pie-in-the-sky since I had not benchmark.

I've decided to not agree to sub at the school anymore until after Thanksgiving. I need to spend some time getting the house in order and ready for Christmas, which will be upon us before I can blink an eye. I'm terrible at saying no, but Don and I discussed it and he's going to back me. Already this week, I've turned down two requests to sub.

At the Crafts Show on Saturday, they had a silent auction. I bid on a night at a local Bed and Breakfast and won it for $60.00. I really want Don and I to get away soon, since we never got to spend a night away for our anniversary. We talked about it last night and just aren't sure when we would be able to fit it in, but possibly in December. The other option, of course, is saving it for our Anniversary next year.

All-in-all, it was a fun day on Saturday and I have lots to keep me busy at home now that I'm finally through the Craft Show. I've spent the last couple of weeks getting ready for it, so now I can concentrate on cleaning out cabinets, trashing junk, and taking items of value to Good Will - one bag yesterday, another today and I have one ready for Friday.

If I can just keep up this momentum, I may be able to fit a Christmas tree in the house by December!

Emergency Surgery

My niece that's in Graduate School, Alicia, had a appendectomy last night. I was at my parent's house yesterday morning when my sister called very upset. Alicia had been sick all night and went to the School Med Center Thursday morning. They gave her a shot of antibiotic and sent her to the E.R. at the hospital.

My sister, my mom and I took off for Statesboro. She was drinking barium when we arrived in preparation for a CT Scan. She had been given morphine and was pretty perky. Around 3:30, they came in with the diagnosis -acute appendicitis. The surgeon followed shortly after and explained that he'd try to remove it laperoscopically.

Next was the anesthesiologist, then they showed up with her pre-op meds and wheeled her into the O.R. The surgeon brought the appendix to us in the waiting room in a jar. It was huge. He said it was normally 3 cm big - hers was 8 cms. He told us that it was a "sick appendix" but they caught it in time, with no perforation or rupture.

She came home from the hospital this morning and is e-mailing all of her students who wrote complaining that they can't open the file with their homework in it.

We're glad she's okay and so close to home, but say a little prayer for her. She has no insurance and no income as a Grad Student and surgery isn't cheap. She was pretty stressed out about how she's going to pay the bill.

The day before I got the call, Deanna reminded me that it was about time to pay her a visit. I can check that off my list for another couple of weeks now. Wish is had been under a little better circumstances, but at least she's alright and healing well.

Sure wish I healed up that fast.

Speak to us, O Wise One!

This is Aaron, the brother of Moses, who spoke for him to Pharaoh. Thanks to Rachel Balducci for the wonderful picture. Notice the tugging on the beard!

Moses, Aaron, and Miriam

Last night we went to an annual neighborhood All Saint's Eve Party. There was a hayride, cotton candy, popcorn, an obstacle course, a moonwalk, and tons of other fun stuff. Dinner was available for purchase by the senior class of my children's school. This year the fare was exemplary - chili with cheese and corn chips, hamburgers, cheeseburgers, hot dogs, nachos, and sliced apples with hot caramel poured over them in a bowl. Wow! What an amazing meal. And I fed the children and myself for $9.50. We can't even get away that easy at McDonald's.

The children were given bags with their names written on them. Each bag contained tickets. They could take the tickets to stations throughout the neighborhood and pick two pieces of candy out of closely-supervised bowls. The clincher - they had to be dressed as a Bible character or a Saint. No scary costumes here - Hallelujah!!!

With everything on our plate this year, we considered not dressing for the fun, but then the children would've missed out on the candy. So I decided I had to invest a little time, at least, in costuming. We talked for two weeks, trying to come up with suggestions. In the past, we've used a family theme. Last year, the two older children and Don and I went as Peter, Susan, Lucy, and Edmund from "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" by C.S. Lewis. Daelyn went as Aslan (in an L.L. Bean lion costume left over from when Dane was a baby). The year before, Dane went as Noah on the ark (we built an ark out of cardboard - wooden slats and all - and hung it by rope from his shoulders), Deanna went as a rainbow, and Daelyn was a lion on the ark (See? We've gotten great use out of that L.L. Bean investment.) I can't remember further back than that, but I'm sure we've used several other family themes.

This year, Deanna wanted to go as Ruth and Dane wanted to go as Jesus. Daelyn had no ideas. We batted these around, trying to mold them into a family theme. Don suggested John the Baptist for Dane and said he could carry a water pistol, baptising everyone. I was a little skeptical about the plastic water gun. Then Dane suggested Moses. Moses! It was perfect. Deanna loves to dance. She could go as Miriam, Moses' sister, who led the Hebrew women in dance after safely crossing the Red Sea and being delivered from slavery. Daelyn could go as Aaron, who God sent along with Moses to speak for him to Pharaoh. The plan began developing.

I made a quick trip to Good Will Tuesday after picking Daelyn up from school to look for robes and gowns for the children. I found a gown for Deanna and several shirts that I thought might work for Dane or Daelyn. A V-neck, gray nightshirt became an outer cloak for Daelyn once I cut it down the middle. We found an old costume left over from Deanna when she was little and used that as Daelyn's undergarment. We found cloth belts and rags to use for head coverings.

My mother came over yesterday afternoon and asked if she could help with anything. I asked her to make the stone tablets and gave her a copy of the Hebrew alphabet that I printed off the Internet. She left and went to work. I got started applying beards and bushy eyebrows to the boys with cotton balls.

We figured Moses would have white hair and his beard would be white after being in the presence of God on Mt. Sinai. Aaron, however, would have a gray beard, so I applied black eyeshadow to Daelyn's and grayed them nicely. His beard was small and well-groomed. Moses', on the other hand, was long and unsightly. I powdered Dane's hair to make it white, put a head-dressing on Daelyn, checked over Deanna (who had found a tamborine and put bells around her ankles for extra jingle), and we headed out to meet Grandma and Grandpa. My Mom had made the most beautiful stone tablets imaginable. She had taken thick styrofoam, cut it in the correct shape, spray-painted it gray and silver to look like stone, then wrote in black ink from the Hebrew alphabet I had given her. They really LOOKED like stone tablets.

The kids had a wonderful time and I think they looked fabulous. Of course, all the props get dumped on Mom very quickly so the kids can go and play. Don and I got to snuggle on a hayride and everyone got enough candy to last them until Santa fills their stockings at Christmas.

Now I've got to buckle down and get my soaps finished. I still have 12 bath scrubbies to wrap and label and set-up for the show is tomorrow morning.

So little to do and lots of time. Wait. Reverse that.

Dazzle 'em good, son!

It's been a hectic week. My first Crafts Show where I'm selling my soaps is this weekend, so I've been very busy preparing. Don told me I shouldn't do anything this week but get ready, so I've tried hard to be faithful to that.

One cute story, though.

I was helping out in Daelyn's class today, like always on Wednesdays. They've been learning end sounds and beginning sounds and this week they've been learning the letter "D". The teacher asked the children to think of words that began or ended with "d". Hands shot up. The children offered words like "doll", "dog" - your typical "d" words . . . until she called on Daelyn.

"Deactivate," Daelyn shouted out. The teacher turned to look at me with a smirk, trying hard not to laugh outloud.

"Daelyn," she asked, "do you know what 'deactivate' means?"

"Nope," Daelyn was quick to say.

"Don't worry," she responded. "Neither do I."

For goodness sakes, I thought. You may not know what the word means, but throw it out there anyway. It'll make everyone think you're intelligent, and they may never know you have no idea what the word means.

Thats-a my boy!

Dating Dilemna

Don and I have a date tonight - a reunion of the folks who worked together in England.

Two of the guys that live in England have been in Idaho this week at the corporate office. They said they could fly down here from Idaho before flying home to England so they could see everyone. Several of the folks that worked on the project are from the Augusta area, many working at the site where Don works and some with offices in other locations near here.

It's a cocktail party with heavy hors d'oeuvres at a country club in a neighboring town. It will be fun to see some of the folks from England again. And it will be wonderful to be out with Don. We haven't been on a date in a very long time.

It's funny how women think when they're going somewhere special with hubby. Don's at a men's retreat and commented that he'd get home around 5:00, change clothes, and be ready to go. Meanwhile, I've been considering what I'm going to wear for 2 weeks, I need to take a bath, paint my toenails, dry and curl my hair, do my make-up just so, put on some nice smelling stuff, lotion on the legs and arms, . . . hours worth of work to spend 3 with my husband.

I spend at least 3 hours with him practically daily. But, for this, I need lots of extra work. I want to feel special and that means looking special. I doubt Don will even notice, but I'll know the effort I put into honoring him and anticipating the time we'll get the spend together this evening.

So it's off to the bathroom. The clock is ticking and I have SO -O-O-O-O much to do to get ready.

Right as Rain

Overheard at 5:45 a.m. as I rolled over in bed:

"But, Daddy, we went to church last night and I didn't get a bath. I NEED to take a shower with you!"

Daddy's home from his business trip and Daelyn's even willing to get clean in order to spend time with his father. Yay! Daddy's home and, with that, I fell fast asleep.

Missing Barbecue

Don left Sunday to go out of town on business, so I did the weekly grocery shopping on Monday. My children love Lunchables, especially the BBQ Chicken Shake-ups, which happened to be on sale, so I picked up 3.

This morning, I opened the Lunchables boxes to put them in lunchboxes. The whole box doesn't fit, so I have to open them, take all the stuff out, and put the stuff in the childlren's lunches. Lo and behold, two of them - TWO - were missing the little barbecue packet. Now, how can you eat barbecue Lunchables when the barbecue is missing. Nothing else is the same - it's this powder packet and most people don't keep powdered barbecue sauce around the house.

Dane suggested putting a small container of barbecue sauce in the lunches, which was the only alternative. But I determined to call the company when I got home from helping in Daelyn's class and report the problem.

I talked with a very nice young woman who is sending me a coupon for 2 free Lunchables. At the end of the conversation, she said,

"Can I do anything else for you?"

"Not unless you make Frito-Lay corn chips, too," I joked. "I need to call Frito-Lay because I bought a bag of Bar-b-q Fritos and they're plain - no barbecue sauce on them."

"You need to steer your family away from barbecue," she laughingly suggested. I hadn't made the connection, but both products were missing the barbecue seasoning.

Perhaps there's a national shortage of barbecue flavoring. We're experiencing a drought in Georgia - maybe everyone else is experiencing a barbecue drought.

At least I had sauce for the nuggets for the kid's lunches. But dipping fritos in barbecue sauce is taking things just a little too far.

If Frito-Lay's Consumer Complaint line would just pick up their phone, I could get a coupon for those, too, and get all my barbecue problems straightened out. But I think I'll avoid buying this flavor for awhile. Sour cream and onion, here we come.