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!
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
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.
"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.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Family Bond
When I was single, I wanted to set up some regular savings. I realized it worked best if I never saw the money, so I started various types of savings accounts through payroll deduction. I had a short-term savings account through our company credit union, a Christmas Club account, a Vacation Club account, and my retirement savings. But I decided I could eek out just a little more, so I arranged to have $10 deducted per paycheck and put into a holding account. The company I worked for did this all for me.
When $50 accrued in this holding account, in my case, every 2 1/2 months, the company would purchase a $100 savings bond for me and mail it to me. I had to have the bonds made out in someone's name, so I put my name and address and listed my sister as the beneficiary, if I should die without cashing in my bonds.
After a couple of years, they were starting to build up. It occurred to me that they would make a nice graduation gift for my nieces and nephews, so I wrote names on the outside of the envelopes, starting with the oldest nephew and moving down by age. As my brother and sisters had more children, each one got a name on the envelope of a savings bond, earmarked for their high school graduation. I assumed this was the only way I'd ever be able to give each of them $100 as a gift.
Over time, I added the names of my godchildren to the pile. They sat in a drawer accruing interest (a WONDERFUL concept), waiting for the graduation days to begin. Then Don and I married, we had Deanna, and I quit working to be a stay-at-home Mom.
The names on the savings bonds were all in my maiden name, so they had to be cashed by me. But I wanted to pay the taxes on them when they were cashed out, rather than starving college students anyway, so it made sense to not have them transferred into the names of the nieces or nephews I had earmarked them for.
Several years ago, when my brother's oldest son graduated from High School, I took his bond to him in a card, explaining that it was in my name and I had to cash it when he was ready. In fact, I would have to have a copy of my marriage certificate in order to cash them myself.
My nephew seemed a little less than enthusiastic.
"You mean to tell me that you've given me a gift, but it doesn't really belong to me. As a matter of fact, it doesn't technically even belong to you! Thanks alot, Aunt Trish!"
I guess I never really thought of it that way. But I couldn't have done it with the individual names on each one by payroll deduction. Besides, some of these were purchased before the child was even born, giving them a higher value when they graduated from high school because the bond had a longer period of time to accrue interest.
Yesterday, one of my sisters called and explained that one of my nephews needed to cash in his bond. He took it to the bank and they said they couldn't cash it - apparently, he's forgotten everything I told him. He then took it to his mother, whose name also appears on the bond. She endorsed it and tried to cash it. No luck with her, either, because they'd have to have my death certificate. She finally realized they needed to get it to me.
I feel a little sorry for my nephew that he can't get his hands on his graduation money. The good news, however, is that it's now worth over $126.
I'm not sure if they'll let me cash it in now. It has both his endorsement and my sister's on the back. By the time I sign and write my address over top of his, it really will be a "family bond".
I just hope my nephew understands the love that accompanies this bond I have with him.
When $50 accrued in this holding account, in my case, every 2 1/2 months, the company would purchase a $100 savings bond for me and mail it to me. I had to have the bonds made out in someone's name, so I put my name and address and listed my sister as the beneficiary, if I should die without cashing in my bonds.
After a couple of years, they were starting to build up. It occurred to me that they would make a nice graduation gift for my nieces and nephews, so I wrote names on the outside of the envelopes, starting with the oldest nephew and moving down by age. As my brother and sisters had more children, each one got a name on the envelope of a savings bond, earmarked for their high school graduation. I assumed this was the only way I'd ever be able to give each of them $100 as a gift.
Over time, I added the names of my godchildren to the pile. They sat in a drawer accruing interest (a WONDERFUL concept), waiting for the graduation days to begin. Then Don and I married, we had Deanna, and I quit working to be a stay-at-home Mom.
The names on the savings bonds were all in my maiden name, so they had to be cashed by me. But I wanted to pay the taxes on them when they were cashed out, rather than starving college students anyway, so it made sense to not have them transferred into the names of the nieces or nephews I had earmarked them for.
Several years ago, when my brother's oldest son graduated from High School, I took his bond to him in a card, explaining that it was in my name and I had to cash it when he was ready. In fact, I would have to have a copy of my marriage certificate in order to cash them myself.
My nephew seemed a little less than enthusiastic.
"You mean to tell me that you've given me a gift, but it doesn't really belong to me. As a matter of fact, it doesn't technically even belong to you! Thanks alot, Aunt Trish!"
I guess I never really thought of it that way. But I couldn't have done it with the individual names on each one by payroll deduction. Besides, some of these were purchased before the child was even born, giving them a higher value when they graduated from high school because the bond had a longer period of time to accrue interest.
Yesterday, one of my sisters called and explained that one of my nephews needed to cash in his bond. He took it to the bank and they said they couldn't cash it - apparently, he's forgotten everything I told him. He then took it to his mother, whose name also appears on the bond. She endorsed it and tried to cash it. No luck with her, either, because they'd have to have my death certificate. She finally realized they needed to get it to me.
I feel a little sorry for my nephew that he can't get his hands on his graduation money. The good news, however, is that it's now worth over $126.
I'm not sure if they'll let me cash it in now. It has both his endorsement and my sister's on the back. By the time I sign and write my address over top of his, it really will be a "family bond".
I just hope my nephew understands the love that accompanies this bond I have with him.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Strange humility
A friend of mine stopped by to visit today with her precious baby boy. He's just 3 months old and is already rolling over. She put him on the floor in the living room to see if he'd perform for me. He did. We were both quite pleased. Daelyn was home from school and enjoyed watching him, as well.
I overheard Daelyn taking with Dane this evening.
"Kolbe's (older brother to the precious little guy who is Daelyn's age and good friend) baby is really cute. He's the cutest baby I've ever seen. I think I was really cute when I was a baby, but I never saw myself."
I guess that's a form of humility - non-traditional form, but possibly a form, all the same.
I overheard Daelyn taking with Dane this evening.
"Kolbe's (older brother to the precious little guy who is Daelyn's age and good friend) baby is really cute. He's the cutest baby I've ever seen. I think I was really cute when I was a baby, but I never saw myself."
I guess that's a form of humility - non-traditional form, but possibly a form, all the same.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Revenge is Sweet
Last week, while the boys were both home with strep throat, they played a lot of video games. By Friday, Daelyn felt fine, but was still contagious, so he couldn't go to school. It was quite interesting to try and keep him occupied when he was bored silly.
At one point in the afternoon, I was working on the computer while he sat next to me on the floor, directing Spiderman through battles with all kinds of bad guys.
"Mama, this guy got me. He killed me. I lost the game," he said.
Me, only partially listening, "Oh, that's terrible, son. I'm sorry."
Daelyn: "Not nearly as sorry as he's gonna be next time around."
At one point in the afternoon, I was working on the computer while he sat next to me on the floor, directing Spiderman through battles with all kinds of bad guys.
"Mama, this guy got me. He killed me. I lost the game," he said.
Me, only partially listening, "Oh, that's terrible, son. I'm sorry."
Daelyn: "Not nearly as sorry as he's gonna be next time around."
Friday, October 19, 2007
Excuse Me?
Dane, talking about the song, "Pharaoh, Pharaoh", which is sung to the tune of "Louie, Louie":
"You know, this was originally a Beatles song!"
"You know, this was originally a Beatles song!"
Sure Enough
Dane has strep, too. What else could I have expected?
His appointment was at 2:30. As we were sitting in the Waiting Room, with him and Daelyn laying down at opposite ends of the red bench, he said,
"Mama, I'm going to throw up - right now!"
I ran for the counter and told them. His nurse was at the opposite end of the front office and yelled to me to take him back. I grabbed the boys and ran for the door, trying to get him into a treatment room and over a garbage can.
He never threw up, thank goodness, but got a terrible case of the shakes. I went through the cabinets that are clearly marked, "Staff only" and found a paper gown that I laid over him to warm him up a little.
When his doctor gave us the diagnosis, Dane moaned.
"I guess he's not going to the Cub Scout camping trip at the Air Show," I remarked.
"What?" his doctor asked. "Does he have plans this weekend?"
I explained the situation, that Dane and Don were supposed to go camping on the air field where a show is taking place this weekend with the Cub and Boy Scouts. For the last two years, our friend, Ken, has gone, and Dane has been waiting for this year, when he could go, also.
"He CAN go," Dr. Miller said. "He's only contagious for 24 hours so, by tomorrow afternoon, he'll be out of the woods. Get two doses of antibiotic in him today - one now and another before bed, and he should feel way better by tomorrow afternoon. I think you can plan on going, Dane."
I was amazed. Dr. Miller is very conservative, so I know it really MUST be okay. Dane was ecstatic.
I talked with Don when we got home and we decided to do a variation on the theme. There's a forecast for bad weather and, with Dane just getting over strep, I'm not sure I want him camping in the mud and rain. Plus, we're having a surprise birthday party in our backyard for my father on Saturday. I was a little concerned about having wet sleeping bags and a wet tent, not to mention muddy clothes, coolers, etc., to have to clean just as my party guests are arriving on Saturday. So . . . Dane and Don are going to follow the scout leaders' van to the air field today after school and stay until bedtime, then come home and spend the night in their own beds, dry and cozy. Then, tomorrow morning, they'll head back out to the air field to spend the day or, at least, until time for Grandpa's party.
I think it's a great compromise for a boy who was laying on the doctor's treatment table yesterday afternoon, shivering and moaning about needing to throw up.
It's amazing how quickly children heal. Sure wish I could bottle that. Most of us older folks could use it.
His appointment was at 2:30. As we were sitting in the Waiting Room, with him and Daelyn laying down at opposite ends of the red bench, he said,
"Mama, I'm going to throw up - right now!"
I ran for the counter and told them. His nurse was at the opposite end of the front office and yelled to me to take him back. I grabbed the boys and ran for the door, trying to get him into a treatment room and over a garbage can.
He never threw up, thank goodness, but got a terrible case of the shakes. I went through the cabinets that are clearly marked, "Staff only" and found a paper gown that I laid over him to warm him up a little.
When his doctor gave us the diagnosis, Dane moaned.
"I guess he's not going to the Cub Scout camping trip at the Air Show," I remarked.
"What?" his doctor asked. "Does he have plans this weekend?"
I explained the situation, that Dane and Don were supposed to go camping on the air field where a show is taking place this weekend with the Cub and Boy Scouts. For the last two years, our friend, Ken, has gone, and Dane has been waiting for this year, when he could go, also.
"He CAN go," Dr. Miller said. "He's only contagious for 24 hours so, by tomorrow afternoon, he'll be out of the woods. Get two doses of antibiotic in him today - one now and another before bed, and he should feel way better by tomorrow afternoon. I think you can plan on going, Dane."
I was amazed. Dr. Miller is very conservative, so I know it really MUST be okay. Dane was ecstatic.
I talked with Don when we got home and we decided to do a variation on the theme. There's a forecast for bad weather and, with Dane just getting over strep, I'm not sure I want him camping in the mud and rain. Plus, we're having a surprise birthday party in our backyard for my father on Saturday. I was a little concerned about having wet sleeping bags and a wet tent, not to mention muddy clothes, coolers, etc., to have to clean just as my party guests are arriving on Saturday. So . . . Dane and Don are going to follow the scout leaders' van to the air field today after school and stay until bedtime, then come home and spend the night in their own beds, dry and cozy. Then, tomorrow morning, they'll head back out to the air field to spend the day or, at least, until time for Grandpa's party.
I think it's a great compromise for a boy who was laying on the doctor's treatment table yesterday afternoon, shivering and moaning about needing to throw up.
It's amazing how quickly children heal. Sure wish I could bottle that. Most of us older folks could use it.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Daily Co-pays
Daelyn's strep test was negative. Dane's finger WAS jammed. The doctor told me to buddy tape his two last fingers together or use a splint if Dane was going to be doing any sports.
I struggled with sending Daelyn to school today. The doctor said it was a virus if it wasn't strep, and I wasn't sure that I should send the little guy to school sick just because it wasn't strep. I decided to keep him home and got my commitments for the day covered.
At 6 a.m., Dane climbed into bed with me.
"My throat hurts, Mama," he told me. I suggested he see if Don was still here and have Daddy give him a dose of Tylenol.
"He already did - just before he left for work. Then he told me to climb in bed with you."
By 7, he was feeling better, so I sent him off to school, reminding him that I'd be home all day and, if he got to feeling worse, he could call and I'd pick him up.
Around 9:30, the phone rang. Daelyn's 24-hr. strep was positive. He DOES have strep, after all. I called the school and asked them to get a message to Dane's teacher so she'd realize he might really be sick if he started to complain. About noon, I got the call.
"Dane's been complaining of his throat hurting. Now he's complaining of his stomach hurting and his cheeks are flushed."
Dane's appointment for his strep test is at 2:30. It's a shame we didn't catch it one day earlier and we could have saved ourselves today's visit.
Ah, well. Dr. Miller needs to pay off his new office.
I struggled with sending Daelyn to school today. The doctor said it was a virus if it wasn't strep, and I wasn't sure that I should send the little guy to school sick just because it wasn't strep. I decided to keep him home and got my commitments for the day covered.
At 6 a.m., Dane climbed into bed with me.
"My throat hurts, Mama," he told me. I suggested he see if Don was still here and have Daddy give him a dose of Tylenol.
"He already did - just before he left for work. Then he told me to climb in bed with you."
By 7, he was feeling better, so I sent him off to school, reminding him that I'd be home all day and, if he got to feeling worse, he could call and I'd pick him up.
Around 9:30, the phone rang. Daelyn's 24-hr. strep was positive. He DOES have strep, after all. I called the school and asked them to get a message to Dane's teacher so she'd realize he might really be sick if he started to complain. About noon, I got the call.
"Dane's been complaining of his throat hurting. Now he's complaining of his stomach hurting and his cheeks are flushed."
Dane's appointment for his strep test is at 2:30. It's a shame we didn't catch it one day earlier and we could have saved ourselves today's visit.
Ah, well. Dr. Miller needs to pay off his new office.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Sprains and Jelly
I took my sister to the doctor yesterday and spent the whole day with her. She lives about 35 minutes from me on a Farm that my parents bought years ago but never did anything with. A number of years ago, they sold my sister and brother-in-law some of the land, they put a house on it, and have loved being out in the country ever since.
We went out to lunch and hit a Crafts Store, making the most of our time together.
I had made arrangements for Daelyn to go to a friend's house after school in case we weren't back by 1:00. Then, at 2:30, I dropped my sister at my parent's house to visit while I collected Daelyn and the other two from school.
Dane ran to the van. "Guess what, Mama? I sprained my finger."
"How do you know it's sprained, son," I asked, suspecting he was using that term because of Sissy's ankle.
"My teacher told me," he responded. Before taking on the Third Grade, his teacher had been a nurse, so I nodded and commented, something like, "Hmmmh."
He piled into his seat, Deanna jumped in, and they both began bubbling over with details of their day. I love this time with them everyday. They have so much to share and so many cute little stories. Working mothers miss out on this special time with their children. If I'm not home or they go to a friend's house right after school, we can never recapture those first few moments after school.
Deanna said she had tons of homework. Not good, I thought, since we needed to take Aunt Trina back home. We stopped at my parent's house and I asked if Deanna could stay with them. Dane piped up and said he wanted to stay, too, and get his homework done. Grandma agreed. Daelyn, however, said he didn't feel well, that his throat hurt, and said he wanted to stay with me. Grandma checked his throat - very red.
"No wonder he doesn't feel well, honey. His throat looks bad," she told me. Then she got him a throat lozenge that's supposed to be a cure-all.
I loaded up my sister and was headed out the door of Grandma's when Grandpa asked if the grapevines were producing.
"They're full," my sister told him.
"I sure would like some white ones," he said. "I've got some red ones, but no white."
"I'll pick you some quick and send them home with Patti," my sister responded.
On the way out to her house, Daelyn began to cry.
"My throat really hurts, Mama. When is that throat lozenge going to kick in?"
Uh-oh. I realized suddenly that Daelyn really felt bad. And I was scheduled to sub for his teacher today because she's out with a very serious kidney infection. I snatched my cell phone and quickly called her, explaining the situation.
When we arrived at my sister's house, she grabbed a couple of bags and we headed for the scuppernon and muskadine vines. We picked a large grocery bag full for me and a gallon plastic bag full for my father, then headed for home.
We were so late that I immediately got started on dinner. We were having grilled portabella burgers on buns and I had put the mushrooms in marinade the night before, so all I had to do was fire up the grill, set the table, and cook the portabellas. My friend, Nicki, came to visit and, when she finally got in the house, the kids attacked her with all their ailments. Dane showed her his "sprained" finger, Daelyn told her about his sore throat, and Deanna showed off her bruise that covers half her foot.
"Patti, did you know Dane's finger is really swollen?" she asked me. I jerked my head around, grabbed Dane's hand and put the little finger on his left hand next to the one on his right. Sure enough, his finger was swollen double the size of the other.
"Oh, for goodness sake," I said. First Deanna's ankle, now Daelyn's sore throat and Dane's swollen finger. I'm not sure if Dane's finger is sprained or is jammed. He needs to see the doctor.
They found a sub for me today and I kept Daelyn home. His throat is worse (he was in my bedroom crying at 3 a.m. instead of 4 a.m. last night) and the only thing that seems to keep it at bay is Tylenold - regularly. I called the doctor's office and left a request on the answering machine for an appointment for both Daelyn and Dane, then began cleaning my muskadines. They're boiling away in the kitchen now, leaching all the juice out of the pulp, so I can make jelly. The whole house smells like it did when I was a child and my mother made jelly often in the Fall. It's amazing how a smell can bring back so many memories.
I made Daelyn some hot lemonade and gave him his Tylenol. He and Dane have appointments at 11:45. It's nice to have him home for the day, even if he IS feeling puny.
Sprains and jelly - not too things that I normally would put together, but they seem to be working together for us today.
We went out to lunch and hit a Crafts Store, making the most of our time together.
I had made arrangements for Daelyn to go to a friend's house after school in case we weren't back by 1:00. Then, at 2:30, I dropped my sister at my parent's house to visit while I collected Daelyn and the other two from school.
Dane ran to the van. "Guess what, Mama? I sprained my finger."
"How do you know it's sprained, son," I asked, suspecting he was using that term because of Sissy's ankle.
"My teacher told me," he responded. Before taking on the Third Grade, his teacher had been a nurse, so I nodded and commented, something like, "Hmmmh."
He piled into his seat, Deanna jumped in, and they both began bubbling over with details of their day. I love this time with them everyday. They have so much to share and so many cute little stories. Working mothers miss out on this special time with their children. If I'm not home or they go to a friend's house right after school, we can never recapture those first few moments after school.
Deanna said she had tons of homework. Not good, I thought, since we needed to take Aunt Trina back home. We stopped at my parent's house and I asked if Deanna could stay with them. Dane piped up and said he wanted to stay, too, and get his homework done. Grandma agreed. Daelyn, however, said he didn't feel well, that his throat hurt, and said he wanted to stay with me. Grandma checked his throat - very red.
"No wonder he doesn't feel well, honey. His throat looks bad," she told me. Then she got him a throat lozenge that's supposed to be a cure-all.
I loaded up my sister and was headed out the door of Grandma's when Grandpa asked if the grapevines were producing.
"They're full," my sister told him.
"I sure would like some white ones," he said. "I've got some red ones, but no white."
"I'll pick you some quick and send them home with Patti," my sister responded.
On the way out to her house, Daelyn began to cry.
"My throat really hurts, Mama. When is that throat lozenge going to kick in?"
Uh-oh. I realized suddenly that Daelyn really felt bad. And I was scheduled to sub for his teacher today because she's out with a very serious kidney infection. I snatched my cell phone and quickly called her, explaining the situation.
When we arrived at my sister's house, she grabbed a couple of bags and we headed for the scuppernon and muskadine vines. We picked a large grocery bag full for me and a gallon plastic bag full for my father, then headed for home.
We were so late that I immediately got started on dinner. We were having grilled portabella burgers on buns and I had put the mushrooms in marinade the night before, so all I had to do was fire up the grill, set the table, and cook the portabellas. My friend, Nicki, came to visit and, when she finally got in the house, the kids attacked her with all their ailments. Dane showed her his "sprained" finger, Daelyn told her about his sore throat, and Deanna showed off her bruise that covers half her foot.
"Patti, did you know Dane's finger is really swollen?" she asked me. I jerked my head around, grabbed Dane's hand and put the little finger on his left hand next to the one on his right. Sure enough, his finger was swollen double the size of the other.
"Oh, for goodness sake," I said. First Deanna's ankle, now Daelyn's sore throat and Dane's swollen finger. I'm not sure if Dane's finger is sprained or is jammed. He needs to see the doctor.
They found a sub for me today and I kept Daelyn home. His throat is worse (he was in my bedroom crying at 3 a.m. instead of 4 a.m. last night) and the only thing that seems to keep it at bay is Tylenold - regularly. I called the doctor's office and left a request on the answering machine for an appointment for both Daelyn and Dane, then began cleaning my muskadines. They're boiling away in the kitchen now, leaching all the juice out of the pulp, so I can make jelly. The whole house smells like it did when I was a child and my mother made jelly often in the Fall. It's amazing how a smell can bring back so many memories.
I made Daelyn some hot lemonade and gave him his Tylenol. He and Dane have appointments at 11:45. It's nice to have him home for the day, even if he IS feeling puny.
Sprains and jelly - not too things that I normally would put together, but they seem to be working together for us today.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Sprained, not Broken
I had some business to take care of on Thursday at the school, so I decided to stop by and pick up Daelyn. Then I drove around to an office where I needed to copy some papers that borders the Elementary playground. As I drove into the parking lot, I noticed children out playing - I had hit it right at recess time. I began looking for Dane and Deanna. Dane, as usual, was playing soccer with some of his friends. I couldn't see Deanna but, as I parked and got out of the van, I noticed the P.E. teacher who's also the Elementary Administrative Aid leaning over a child. As she moved to the side, I noticed the child looked like Deanna. I headed out onto the playground to get a better look. Just then, I noticed Deanna's teacher approaching and leaning over the child. I took off at a run and, sure enough, it was my Deanna. The teacher stood up and was saying something just as I approached, then saw me and said, "And here she is now."
Deanna was crying and, as soon as she saw me, got visibly upset. The P.E. teacher turned to tell me what happened.
"Deanna was running and turned her ankle," she explained. "It might be broken. She can't put any weight on it."
"Mama," Deanna added, "I heard a pop!" Her ankle was obviously hurt and was already beginning to swell.
The problem was how to get her across the playground and into the van. Her teacher suggested that I pull the van through the playground. As I ran to collect the van, I heard someone calling and turned around to see the son of Deanna's teacher and the P.E. teacher carrying her in an arm cradle. I got her situated in the van with Daelyn, then ran into the office to try and make arrangements for Dane to be picked up after school.
We took off for the pediatrician who sent us for X-rays. No break, thank goodness, but a severe sprain. Her doctor told us to limit her mobility, wrap her ankle, ice it down, keep it elevated, and give her Ibuprofen round-the-clock to decrease the swelling.
We've been following all of his directions faithfully, but Deanna's ankle is pretty badly bruised and still hurting. This is the same foot where she had the plantars wart cut out TWICE (very painful surgeries both times with no deadening) and which she broke a year and a half ago.
The family joke is that she has inherited the bad left ankle of her mother. I have a hole in my ankle, due to an old motorcycle accident, that causes frequent problems for me.
I'd be happy if she inherited my eye color and even my hair color, but I'm not thrilled I want her inheriting weak body parts. We're praying that, in this area, she's not like her mother.
Deanna was crying and, as soon as she saw me, got visibly upset. The P.E. teacher turned to tell me what happened.
"Deanna was running and turned her ankle," she explained. "It might be broken. She can't put any weight on it."
"Mama," Deanna added, "I heard a pop!" Her ankle was obviously hurt and was already beginning to swell.
The problem was how to get her across the playground and into the van. Her teacher suggested that I pull the van through the playground. As I ran to collect the van, I heard someone calling and turned around to see the son of Deanna's teacher and the P.E. teacher carrying her in an arm cradle. I got her situated in the van with Daelyn, then ran into the office to try and make arrangements for Dane to be picked up after school.
We took off for the pediatrician who sent us for X-rays. No break, thank goodness, but a severe sprain. Her doctor told us to limit her mobility, wrap her ankle, ice it down, keep it elevated, and give her Ibuprofen round-the-clock to decrease the swelling.
We've been following all of his directions faithfully, but Deanna's ankle is pretty badly bruised and still hurting. This is the same foot where she had the plantars wart cut out TWICE (very painful surgeries both times with no deadening) and which she broke a year and a half ago.
The family joke is that she has inherited the bad left ankle of her mother. I have a hole in my ankle, due to an old motorcycle accident, that causes frequent problems for me.
I'd be happy if she inherited my eye color and even my hair color, but I'm not thrilled I want her inheriting weak body parts. We're praying that, in this area, she's not like her mother.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Comments in Short Order
I used to get comments on my Blog - but no more. I'm not sure if my readers are just too busy or if it's too much of a hassle to create a log-in. Perhaps they're just quiet people with little to say.
Truth is, the latter is impossible for me to understand. I NEVER have little to say. When I read other people's Blogs, I can't help but post comments. Sometimes, when I find free time, I'll read several day's worth of Posts that I missed to get caught up and I have to fight the urge to comment on every single one.
At the bottom of the page of Posts, there's a feature on Blogger called Sitemeter. You can go on your own password-protected sitemeter and get all kinds of information about who has visited your Blog. For instance, you can see how many people have visited that day, the last hour, and the whole week. You can display graphs that show how many visits you have per month or per year by month. There's also a feature where you can see the location where the visitor is from.
Today, for instance, I've had visitors from Cyprus, Trinidad and Tobago (I have NO idea where this is), West Virginia, New Jersey, North Carolina, Florida, and some local visitors. Yesterday, I had a visitor from Australia. I periodically have visitors from the U.K. - probably my friends from over there. This week, I've also had visitors from Indiana, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Indonesia.
I have someone from Canton, Georgia who visits regularly. I have no idea who it is. It would be fun to put a name or personality with some of these locations. Florida, for example, is Tallahassee Lassie, or Talli, as we call her in the Blogger world. She's related to Joyce (Eric's mother) and Bomba (Eric) and has her own Blog which I read when I have time. She has recently (within the last year) had surgery to help her be able to hear - Talli's deaf.
Bomba recently married and stopped posting on his previous Blog. My sister, who also Blogs, has a friend, Jan, that she met through Blogging. I visited Jan's Blog regularly, too, until she discontinued it and moved to a Home-Schooler's web page. There was another that I read several years ago - a missionary in Manila - Daniel. But he went into a religious order and no longer posts.
I don't seem to have very much luck with links to other Blogs from mine. Especially since all the ones that I've linked to have gone away. It's the same with TV shows I like. Once I get real attached to them, they're discontinued. And foods. If it's something I REALLY like, you can bet the company's going to stop making it.
So, send me an encouraging note. Let me know who you are and that you're reading my Blog. Post a comment from time to time. I read them faithfully and, usually, respond.
Truth is, the latter is impossible for me to understand. I NEVER have little to say. When I read other people's Blogs, I can't help but post comments. Sometimes, when I find free time, I'll read several day's worth of Posts that I missed to get caught up and I have to fight the urge to comment on every single one.
At the bottom of the page of Posts, there's a feature on Blogger called Sitemeter. You can go on your own password-protected sitemeter and get all kinds of information about who has visited your Blog. For instance, you can see how many people have visited that day, the last hour, and the whole week. You can display graphs that show how many visits you have per month or per year by month. There's also a feature where you can see the location where the visitor is from.
Today, for instance, I've had visitors from Cyprus, Trinidad and Tobago (I have NO idea where this is), West Virginia, New Jersey, North Carolina, Florida, and some local visitors. Yesterday, I had a visitor from Australia. I periodically have visitors from the U.K. - probably my friends from over there. This week, I've also had visitors from Indiana, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Indonesia.
I have someone from Canton, Georgia who visits regularly. I have no idea who it is. It would be fun to put a name or personality with some of these locations. Florida, for example, is Tallahassee Lassie, or Talli, as we call her in the Blogger world. She's related to Joyce (Eric's mother) and Bomba (Eric) and has her own Blog which I read when I have time. She has recently (within the last year) had surgery to help her be able to hear - Talli's deaf.
Bomba recently married and stopped posting on his previous Blog. My sister, who also Blogs, has a friend, Jan, that she met through Blogging. I visited Jan's Blog regularly, too, until she discontinued it and moved to a Home-Schooler's web page. There was another that I read several years ago - a missionary in Manila - Daniel. But he went into a religious order and no longer posts.
I don't seem to have very much luck with links to other Blogs from mine. Especially since all the ones that I've linked to have gone away. It's the same with TV shows I like. Once I get real attached to them, they're discontinued. And foods. If it's something I REALLY like, you can bet the company's going to stop making it.
So, send me an encouraging note. Let me know who you are and that you're reading my Blog. Post a comment from time to time. I read them faithfully and, usually, respond.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Prayer Time Ponderings
Dane's been having a personal prayer time each day. We worked very hard in September on reinstituting discipline in our lives, and he's embraced it wholeheartedly.
A week or so ago, as I was tucking him into bed, he told me that he thought we need to have a weekly Family Game Night. I agreed that was a great idea and recommended he discuss it with Daddy. The truth is, we do a LOT of family stuff, but usually I rent a good, ol' family movie, we pop popcorn, and sit up late on a Friday snacking and watching a movie together.
But he wants games. That's fine with me. I love games. I'd love to see us start spending time together playing cards or a board game. We play a lot of games when we're on vacation, but our lives at home are very busy and we seldom take the time.
Earlier this week, he announced that he thought he needed to start having a boy in his class over to visit. He told me that the boy doesn't even know where we live (he lives about 4 houses away from us) and Dane was very concerned about that. I agreed that we definitely should plan a play date.
Over the weekend, while bedding down in our tents Friday night, Dane came up with another of his "suggestions".
"Mom," he commented once I got settled on my air mattress, "I think we need to have family prayers while we're out here camping."
"Excellent idea, son," I responded. "Why don't you mention it to Daddy when he comes to bed?"
Don was just outside the tent, trying to untie his tennis shoes, slide them off, and get out of his socks while standing up with nothing to lean against before entering the tent. It took several minutes, but when he finally climbed onto the air mattress, Dane told him his idea.
"I think that's a great idea, Dane," Don said. "Why don't you start?"
Dane mentioned several prayer intentions, then Don moved to Daelyn and me. From the other tent, we heard Deanna pipe up,
"What about me?!?"
"I haven't forgotten about you or Theresa (her friend who went camping with us), Deanna. I'm just doing this tent first."
When he finished with my prayer concerns, he addressed Theresa. She mumbled something almost indistinquishable.
"What did you say?" I asked, not sure I believed what I thought she had said.
"An end to abortion," Deanna answered for Theresa.
"Oh. I thought you said, 'A ninja person'!"
All four children broke into uproarious and simultaneous laughter. I don't know what was funnier - Mommy not being able to hear or the idea of Theresa praying for a ninja.
It was a little difficult for Don to regain order at what should have been a quiet, solemn time. But, finally, we all chortled our laughter and turned our attention back to intentions.
"Theresa?" Don prodded. "Anything else?"
"Well," she said, "I just MIGHT have said 'a ninja person' - I'm not real sure!"
I don't think Don ever regained order after that. Dane's good prayer idea provided lots of family entertainment, though. If we could have just fit in his friend from school, we would have been able to hit all his ponderings from his recent prayer times in one fell swoop.
A week or so ago, as I was tucking him into bed, he told me that he thought we need to have a weekly Family Game Night. I agreed that was a great idea and recommended he discuss it with Daddy. The truth is, we do a LOT of family stuff, but usually I rent a good, ol' family movie, we pop popcorn, and sit up late on a Friday snacking and watching a movie together.
But he wants games. That's fine with me. I love games. I'd love to see us start spending time together playing cards or a board game. We play a lot of games when we're on vacation, but our lives at home are very busy and we seldom take the time.
Earlier this week, he announced that he thought he needed to start having a boy in his class over to visit. He told me that the boy doesn't even know where we live (he lives about 4 houses away from us) and Dane was very concerned about that. I agreed that we definitely should plan a play date.
Over the weekend, while bedding down in our tents Friday night, Dane came up with another of his "suggestions".
"Mom," he commented once I got settled on my air mattress, "I think we need to have family prayers while we're out here camping."
"Excellent idea, son," I responded. "Why don't you mention it to Daddy when he comes to bed?"
Don was just outside the tent, trying to untie his tennis shoes, slide them off, and get out of his socks while standing up with nothing to lean against before entering the tent. It took several minutes, but when he finally climbed onto the air mattress, Dane told him his idea.
"I think that's a great idea, Dane," Don said. "Why don't you start?"
Dane mentioned several prayer intentions, then Don moved to Daelyn and me. From the other tent, we heard Deanna pipe up,
"What about me?!?"
"I haven't forgotten about you or Theresa (her friend who went camping with us), Deanna. I'm just doing this tent first."
When he finished with my prayer concerns, he addressed Theresa. She mumbled something almost indistinquishable.
"What did you say?" I asked, not sure I believed what I thought she had said.
"An end to abortion," Deanna answered for Theresa.
"Oh. I thought you said, 'A ninja person'!"
All four children broke into uproarious and simultaneous laughter. I don't know what was funnier - Mommy not being able to hear or the idea of Theresa praying for a ninja.
It was a little difficult for Don to regain order at what should have been a quiet, solemn time. But, finally, we all chortled our laughter and turned our attention back to intentions.
"Theresa?" Don prodded. "Anything else?"
"Well," she said, "I just MIGHT have said 'a ninja person' - I'm not real sure!"
I don't think Don ever regained order after that. Dane's good prayer idea provided lots of family entertainment, though. If we could have just fit in his friend from school, we would have been able to hit all his ponderings from his recent prayer times in one fell swoop.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
September 30, 1996
"To my Baby, my First-born,
Your Daddy and I call you Zimmy. When I first found out I was pregnant, he started calling you Zim-Zam, and we shortened it to Zimmy. I kept trying to get him to call you something different, but then he heard someone named Zimmy call into a radio talk-show, and it cynched it. I just pray he'll remember your name after you're born.
I'm writing this letter to you on Monday night. You're scheduled to be born by C-Section one week from tomorrow. I go in on Friday for my pre-op work and then your Daddy and I report to the Operating Room at 9 a.m. on Tuesday (unless you come sooner). Grandma and Grandpa Hunt and Aunt Toni will be in the waiting room. Also, your cousins Alicia and James plan to be there. I have no idea who else may show up. Your Daddy will be in the Operating Room with me so he can hold you as soon as you're born. The doctor will hand you to him and he'll bring you around to me so I can see you for the first time. I'll be numbed from the waist down instead of being put to sleep so I can see you and talk to you immediately. Then Daddy will walk you out to the waiting room so everyone can see you and he'll take you from there to the Nursery where they'll weigh you, give you your first bath, and put you on a warming table while I'm being sewn up. As soon as I'm back in my room, Daddy will bring you to me so I can hold you and nurse you for the first time.
I hate that I can't hold you in the Operating Room - my arms will be strapped down and have I.V.'s and monitors on them. But your Daddy will be able to hold you and you'll know his voice. Every night, when we're in bed, your Daddy leans down and rubs my belly and says, 'Zimmy, this is your Daddy. Be good tonight and let your Mommy get some sleep.' Lately, he's also been telling you that it's time to come out and play with Dad. He's anxious to meet you. Then, every morning before he leaves for work, he rubs my belly and tells you good morning and that he loves you. I know you'll recognize his voice after you're born.
I'm sitting up late writing this letter because you're so active tonight I can't fall asleep. You had the hiccups a little while ago and my belly jumped for about a half an hour. I remember the first time I felt you move. I was only 3 months pregnant and was in the hospital when I felt a butterfly flutter in my belly. That was you. By 5 months, when they put the Fetal Monitor on me to listen to your heartbeat, you'd kick the monitor. It always surprised the nurses to see you kick out at the monitor. Your Daddy and I knew even then that you were headstrong and had a mind of your own.
That's part of the reason why I'm writing you this letter, my baby. I know that the day will come, probably when you're a teenager, that you'll feel like no one really understands you and your Father and I don't really know you at all. When that day comes, I want you to read this letter and know that you were loved by us both from the moment we knew about you. As you grow older, there may be things about yourself that you don't share with us, thoughts you have that we don't know about. But you need to realize that your personality was formed while you were still in the womb and we knew that personality. Like I said earlier, you're headstrong - a leader, not a follower. You want to make an impact on the world. You're restless - always moving, but you have a deep desire to do things the "right" way and to please others. Always choose to please God first and use your leadership skills to bring others to Him. When you feel that no one understand you, read this letter and turn to God. It was He who created you and knows your every thought. Your Father and I love you and we'll do our best but in our humanness, we'll fail you, despite our best intentions. God, however, will never fail you. He will hold you in the palm of His hand and be everything Daddy and I can't be for you.
Daddy and I are honored that the Lord chose to give you to us. We'll do our utmost to raise you in a loving home where you are secure and able to grow in your own gifts and strengths. We already pray and ask the Lord to give us wisdom in parenting. And, despite the things that we might do wrong, we hope you will always feel our love for you and know your great worth in our eyes. May God protect you and in one week I'll have you in my arms!
Your Mommy"
Happy 11th. birthday, my baby. We're still honored that the Lord chose to give you to us.
Your Daddy and I call you Zimmy. When I first found out I was pregnant, he started calling you Zim-Zam, and we shortened it to Zimmy. I kept trying to get him to call you something different, but then he heard someone named Zimmy call into a radio talk-show, and it cynched it. I just pray he'll remember your name after you're born.
I'm writing this letter to you on Monday night. You're scheduled to be born by C-Section one week from tomorrow. I go in on Friday for my pre-op work and then your Daddy and I report to the Operating Room at 9 a.m. on Tuesday (unless you come sooner). Grandma and Grandpa Hunt and Aunt Toni will be in the waiting room. Also, your cousins Alicia and James plan to be there. I have no idea who else may show up. Your Daddy will be in the Operating Room with me so he can hold you as soon as you're born. The doctor will hand you to him and he'll bring you around to me so I can see you for the first time. I'll be numbed from the waist down instead of being put to sleep so I can see you and talk to you immediately. Then Daddy will walk you out to the waiting room so everyone can see you and he'll take you from there to the Nursery where they'll weigh you, give you your first bath, and put you on a warming table while I'm being sewn up. As soon as I'm back in my room, Daddy will bring you to me so I can hold you and nurse you for the first time.
I hate that I can't hold you in the Operating Room - my arms will be strapped down and have I.V.'s and monitors on them. But your Daddy will be able to hold you and you'll know his voice. Every night, when we're in bed, your Daddy leans down and rubs my belly and says, 'Zimmy, this is your Daddy. Be good tonight and let your Mommy get some sleep.' Lately, he's also been telling you that it's time to come out and play with Dad. He's anxious to meet you. Then, every morning before he leaves for work, he rubs my belly and tells you good morning and that he loves you. I know you'll recognize his voice after you're born.
I'm sitting up late writing this letter because you're so active tonight I can't fall asleep. You had the hiccups a little while ago and my belly jumped for about a half an hour. I remember the first time I felt you move. I was only 3 months pregnant and was in the hospital when I felt a butterfly flutter in my belly. That was you. By 5 months, when they put the Fetal Monitor on me to listen to your heartbeat, you'd kick the monitor. It always surprised the nurses to see you kick out at the monitor. Your Daddy and I knew even then that you were headstrong and had a mind of your own.
That's part of the reason why I'm writing you this letter, my baby. I know that the day will come, probably when you're a teenager, that you'll feel like no one really understands you and your Father and I don't really know you at all. When that day comes, I want you to read this letter and know that you were loved by us both from the moment we knew about you. As you grow older, there may be things about yourself that you don't share with us, thoughts you have that we don't know about. But you need to realize that your personality was formed while you were still in the womb and we knew that personality. Like I said earlier, you're headstrong - a leader, not a follower. You want to make an impact on the world. You're restless - always moving, but you have a deep desire to do things the "right" way and to please others. Always choose to please God first and use your leadership skills to bring others to Him. When you feel that no one understand you, read this letter and turn to God. It was He who created you and knows your every thought. Your Father and I love you and we'll do our best but in our humanness, we'll fail you, despite our best intentions. God, however, will never fail you. He will hold you in the palm of His hand and be everything Daddy and I can't be for you.
Daddy and I are honored that the Lord chose to give you to us. We'll do our utmost to raise you in a loving home where you are secure and able to grow in your own gifts and strengths. We already pray and ask the Lord to give us wisdom in parenting. And, despite the things that we might do wrong, we hope you will always feel our love for you and know your great worth in our eyes. May God protect you and in one week I'll have you in my arms!
Your Mommy"
Happy 11th. birthday, my baby. We're still honored that the Lord chose to give you to us.
Monday, October 08, 2007
The Drips
Dane and I both came home from the weekend with sore throats. While we were unpacking the van, he started to cry. His stomach hurt, his throat hurt, and his head hurt. I gave him a dose of Tylenol, then ran a warm bath in my deep soak-tub - with bubbles. I got him a drinked to sip while soaking, then left him to luxuriate in a comfortable tub.
By the time he was done with his bath, he felt better (probably because the Tylenol had kicked in). I, however, went to bed miserable, had a miserable night, and woke up even more miserable this morning. My nose ran all night and I couldn't wear my breathing mask with a stuffed-up nose, so my sleep apnea kept me from sleeping soundly during the 20 minutes my nose wasn't running.
After dropping the kids at school this morning, I headed to Wal-Mart for Nyquil. I'm tempted to take some right now, if it wasn't for a day packed with "stuff". It's Deanna's birthday, #11, and I want to take her fast food for lunch as a special treat. Then, warm cookies delivered to her class at 12:10, Kindergarten carpool at 1:00, etc. You know the drill. Every minute packed.
So I guess I'll just drip my way through the morning. If you see me and I don't wave, it's because I'm busy wiping.
By the time he was done with his bath, he felt better (probably because the Tylenol had kicked in). I, however, went to bed miserable, had a miserable night, and woke up even more miserable this morning. My nose ran all night and I couldn't wear my breathing mask with a stuffed-up nose, so my sleep apnea kept me from sleeping soundly during the 20 minutes my nose wasn't running.
After dropping the kids at school this morning, I headed to Wal-Mart for Nyquil. I'm tempted to take some right now, if it wasn't for a day packed with "stuff". It's Deanna's birthday, #11, and I want to take her fast food for lunch as a special treat. Then, warm cookies delivered to her class at 12:10, Kindergarten carpool at 1:00, etc. You know the drill. Every minute packed.
So I guess I'll just drip my way through the morning. If you see me and I don't wave, it's because I'm busy wiping.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Camping, Fishing, and Swimming
We're back from our camping trip with at least one exciting story to tell. And, despite the forecast for rain all day Friday, Friday night, Saturday and Saturday night, we got, maybe, 6 drops. The weather was beautiful and the kids got a slight sunburn.
Deanna spent the entire weekend in the lake. Our campsite was next to the boat dock. I chose it so we'd have no neighbors on one side. It was a two-tiered site with steps inbetween. The top tier housed our tents, the bottom tier had the picnic table, charcoal grill and fire circle. Then there were steps from the lower tier down to the lake, with a nice stretch of beach. Just past our little private beach was a fishing dock, a little further out of the cove was the boat ramp. Deanna discovered quickly that, although the water off our beach was full of seaweed, the boat ramp was clean or she could jump off the dock and swim, avoiding the yuck at the bottom of the lake.
Dane spent the weekend either fishing or talking about fishing. I've never seen a child that could talk so exhaustively about nothing. He asked about how big we thought the fish in the lake were. He asked what kind of bait or lures would work best in that kind of a lake. He pored over his tackle box, examining every single item time and again and taking them all out so I could examine them and explain to him what they were. He was fanatical about fishing - a definite male - completely single-minded.
Daelyn wandered from one thing to the next. He'd swim for a while, then walk around on the beach, dig for fresh-water clams, search for firewood in the rough, roast marshmallows, throw sticks on the fire, play with Donovan - just wandering aimlessly and peacefully around the camp area. He'd fish with his brother for a while, then find some other distraction for a while.
Don seemed to mostly rest. He sat around alot, which is what he needed more than anything. And I worked. Don't get me wrong. There were those occasional times when I just sat in a camp chair or laid around in the tent in front of the fan I took for my hot-natured husband. But I had a fire to tend, firewood to haul and cut, food to cook, dishes to wash, and the never-ending job of cleaning up the campsite. It felt like I was always busy, but it was a very nice change from the busyness at home. It felt much more relaxed, somehow, and we had no schedule to keep.
Friday afternoon, as Don and the boys were setting up the rain fly and canopy over the picnic table (remember, we expected rain all weekend), I was working on the tents on the top tier. I heard Don point out a lizard to Dane. I turned to watch and saw them looking at a tree. Apparently, Don had seen a rather large lizard climbing the trunk of the tree. It took Dane a few minutes to locate, but he finally saw it, too, and they both stopped to watch it for a while. On Saturday afternoon, we were sitting at the picnic table when Daelyn ran up and told me that he had seen a snake. I smiled, wondering if it was the exact same lizard from Friday. I started to explain that it was just a lizard, then decided to humor him and go look at it. He took me to the steps going up to the top tier and pointed at the ground. There, slithering between me and my tent, was a snake. I was shocked beyond belief. It was right there - in our campsite.
There are not too many things that scare me. I don't enjoy cockroaches, but I'm not afraid of them. I'll chase a mouse (or rat) out of the area with a broom. I once was walking down a sidewalk in Texas when a tarantula walked across in front of me. I took my sandal off my foot and stomped it flat - several times. I've been chased by a shark at the beach and stung untold times by jellyfish. I flick spiders off me and pull ticks without fear. I'm just not a fear-filled person when it comes to creatures. But all that flies out the window when it comes to snakes. The one creature that will make my blood run cold is a snake. And there one was - in our campsite.
I kept the children from getting too close and we stood and watched it slither around, then head back into the woods. Dane announced that he could tell by the coloring that it was a poisonous snake. I don't know, but I asked Don to look it up when we got home.
"We're better off NOT knowing," he told me. He's right, of course. So I sit and wonder if this will change how I feel about camping.
I'll tell you one thing for sure - I'll not be walking through woods around our campsite in the future in sandals. Tennis shoes for me. Tennis shoes and a big stick.
Deanna spent the entire weekend in the lake. Our campsite was next to the boat dock. I chose it so we'd have no neighbors on one side. It was a two-tiered site with steps inbetween. The top tier housed our tents, the bottom tier had the picnic table, charcoal grill and fire circle. Then there were steps from the lower tier down to the lake, with a nice stretch of beach. Just past our little private beach was a fishing dock, a little further out of the cove was the boat ramp. Deanna discovered quickly that, although the water off our beach was full of seaweed, the boat ramp was clean or she could jump off the dock and swim, avoiding the yuck at the bottom of the lake.
Dane spent the weekend either fishing or talking about fishing. I've never seen a child that could talk so exhaustively about nothing. He asked about how big we thought the fish in the lake were. He asked what kind of bait or lures would work best in that kind of a lake. He pored over his tackle box, examining every single item time and again and taking them all out so I could examine them and explain to him what they were. He was fanatical about fishing - a definite male - completely single-minded.
Daelyn wandered from one thing to the next. He'd swim for a while, then walk around on the beach, dig for fresh-water clams, search for firewood in the rough, roast marshmallows, throw sticks on the fire, play with Donovan - just wandering aimlessly and peacefully around the camp area. He'd fish with his brother for a while, then find some other distraction for a while.
Don seemed to mostly rest. He sat around alot, which is what he needed more than anything. And I worked. Don't get me wrong. There were those occasional times when I just sat in a camp chair or laid around in the tent in front of the fan I took for my hot-natured husband. But I had a fire to tend, firewood to haul and cut, food to cook, dishes to wash, and the never-ending job of cleaning up the campsite. It felt like I was always busy, but it was a very nice change from the busyness at home. It felt much more relaxed, somehow, and we had no schedule to keep.
Friday afternoon, as Don and the boys were setting up the rain fly and canopy over the picnic table (remember, we expected rain all weekend), I was working on the tents on the top tier. I heard Don point out a lizard to Dane. I turned to watch and saw them looking at a tree. Apparently, Don had seen a rather large lizard climbing the trunk of the tree. It took Dane a few minutes to locate, but he finally saw it, too, and they both stopped to watch it for a while. On Saturday afternoon, we were sitting at the picnic table when Daelyn ran up and told me that he had seen a snake. I smiled, wondering if it was the exact same lizard from Friday. I started to explain that it was just a lizard, then decided to humor him and go look at it. He took me to the steps going up to the top tier and pointed at the ground. There, slithering between me and my tent, was a snake. I was shocked beyond belief. It was right there - in our campsite.
There are not too many things that scare me. I don't enjoy cockroaches, but I'm not afraid of them. I'll chase a mouse (or rat) out of the area with a broom. I once was walking down a sidewalk in Texas when a tarantula walked across in front of me. I took my sandal off my foot and stomped it flat - several times. I've been chased by a shark at the beach and stung untold times by jellyfish. I flick spiders off me and pull ticks without fear. I'm just not a fear-filled person when it comes to creatures. But all that flies out the window when it comes to snakes. The one creature that will make my blood run cold is a snake. And there one was - in our campsite.
I kept the children from getting too close and we stood and watched it slither around, then head back into the woods. Dane announced that he could tell by the coloring that it was a poisonous snake. I don't know, but I asked Don to look it up when we got home.
"We're better off NOT knowing," he told me. He's right, of course. So I sit and wonder if this will change how I feel about camping.
I'll tell you one thing for sure - I'll not be walking through woods around our campsite in the future in sandals. Tennis shoes for me. Tennis shoes and a big stick.
Friday, October 05, 2007
What IS human perfection?
In the kitchen this morning, Deanna told us a story.
Apparently, a friend of hers was getting a spanking. Her mother had her over her lap and, just before the first whack, the girl remembered the scripture reading from that morning.
"Mama," she yelled, "remember Jesus said, 'Whatever you do to one of these little ones, you do also to me'?"
She escaped a spanking. Her mother decided she wouldn't spank Jesus. I cracked up. Smart thinking on the part of the girl. Confusion on the part of the mother. One of those moments when you're just - not - sure.
"It wouldn't have stopped me," I told Deanna. "In fact, you probably would have gotten one more for trying such a devious trick."
"But you'd be spanking Jesus," Deanna pleaded. Not exactly, dear. You'd be disciplining, and I'm quite certain Jesus was disciplined, albeit without sin. Every human needs forming and I'm sure Mary and Joseph formed their son, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been half human.
I tried to explain this to Deanna. It was a recent topic of discussion in our Sunday School class. Did Jesus do the typical childish things most kids do? He took off from his parents and went to the Temple when they were trying to leave Jerusalem without telling anyone. At the very least, this was somewhat disrespectful of his parents.
Does the age of accountability have anything to do with Jesus' holiness and behavior? Surely he was a rough and tumble boy just like all the others in Nazareth. I can't imagine Jesus being meak and quiet ALL the time - he wasn't as an adult. He knew how to become angry righteously. He knew well how to quiet nay-sayers with a look or a gentle comment. He was well schooled in diplomacy but, also, as a carpenter, according to Bible scholars. He worked side-by-side with his father, learning everything Joseph had to teach - not just wood-working.
"STOP!" Deanna yelled. "You're boggling my mind. I can't think through that. I have a spelling test today."
As they walked out the door with Daddy to school, Daelyn looked at me with a gleam in his eye. "Whatever you do to one of these little ones, you do also to me!"
Uh-oh! Here comes trouble. And Trouble, thou name beith Daelyn.
Apparently, a friend of hers was getting a spanking. Her mother had her over her lap and, just before the first whack, the girl remembered the scripture reading from that morning.
"Mama," she yelled, "remember Jesus said, 'Whatever you do to one of these little ones, you do also to me'?"
She escaped a spanking. Her mother decided she wouldn't spank Jesus. I cracked up. Smart thinking on the part of the girl. Confusion on the part of the mother. One of those moments when you're just - not - sure.
"It wouldn't have stopped me," I told Deanna. "In fact, you probably would have gotten one more for trying such a devious trick."
"But you'd be spanking Jesus," Deanna pleaded. Not exactly, dear. You'd be disciplining, and I'm quite certain Jesus was disciplined, albeit without sin. Every human needs forming and I'm sure Mary and Joseph formed their son, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been half human.
I tried to explain this to Deanna. It was a recent topic of discussion in our Sunday School class. Did Jesus do the typical childish things most kids do? He took off from his parents and went to the Temple when they were trying to leave Jerusalem without telling anyone. At the very least, this was somewhat disrespectful of his parents.
Does the age of accountability have anything to do with Jesus' holiness and behavior? Surely he was a rough and tumble boy just like all the others in Nazareth. I can't imagine Jesus being meak and quiet ALL the time - he wasn't as an adult. He knew how to become angry righteously. He knew well how to quiet nay-sayers with a look or a gentle comment. He was well schooled in diplomacy but, also, as a carpenter, according to Bible scholars. He worked side-by-side with his father, learning everything Joseph had to teach - not just wood-working.
"STOP!" Deanna yelled. "You're boggling my mind. I can't think through that. I have a spelling test today."
As they walked out the door with Daddy to school, Daelyn looked at me with a gleam in his eye. "Whatever you do to one of these little ones, you do also to me!"
Uh-oh! Here comes trouble. And Trouble, thou name beith Daelyn.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Achy Revisited
Leg cramps during the night last night - a charley horse in my right leg. Pain, oh, the pain! But at least my shoulder blade feels better today. I couldn't even reach my breathing mask (I have Sleep Apnea) with my right hand when I tried to put it on at bedtime. I had to get out of bed, reach for it with my left, then lay back down. Several times, I tried to roll onto my right side, but the hurt stopped me cold. Sometime in the middle of the night, I rolled over and - voila - no pain. Yay! (See? The old body's falling apart. Why did it suddenly start to hurt yesterday? Why did it suddenly get better during the night?)
At Children's Choir Practice last night, our Music Director was playing games with the children and told them to put their hand on their clavicle. Deanna promptly put her hand on her hip.
"Deanna, that's not your clavicle, dear," Mr. Netches said.
"Oh, yeah," she reportedly responded. "It's my pelvis."
Quiet, now. Don't give my body any new ideas.
At Children's Choir Practice last night, our Music Director was playing games with the children and told them to put their hand on their clavicle. Deanna promptly put her hand on her hip.
"Deanna, that's not your clavicle, dear," Mr. Netches said.
"Oh, yeah," she reportedly responded. "It's my pelvis."
Quiet, now. Don't give my body any new ideas.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Achy Breaky Body
I'm falling apart, piece by piece, like a leper whose body parts are decaying and dropping off.
First it was my mouth. I had some dental work and got a blister on the site of the novacaine injections. Since it was right on the muscle that opened my mouth, I couldn't talk (Don thought this was hilarious) for several days. I was in horrible pain and very grumpy.
Last Saturday I was walking around the van to get something out of the trunk when I collided with the rear door. Don had popped the trunk but had only opened it halfway. I was walking very quickly, bent down as I rounded the back, and ran my head right into the corner of the trunk door. Everything went black for a few seconds, then I saw stars. It was very painful and the pain just wouldn't stop after a reason amount of time, like I expected. I probably had a mild concussion. Anyway, my head throbbed for two days and still hurts when I wash or brush my hair.
I was sitting at the computer last night and my ankle was turned inward. My foot began to fall asleep, so I moved my foot and I heard a pop. My bad ankle. Pain shot through it and I couldn't put any weight on it for the rest of the evening.
This afternoon my collar bone on the right side began to hurt. So dramatically, in fact, that I couldn't lift the gallon of milk from the shelf at the grocery store.
I picked the children up from Choir Practice after my shopping and was rattling off my list of woes. Deanna started to laugh. It really was quite comical.
"I hope you get better before we go camping this weekend, Mom," she joked. You're not the only one. I can't imagine trying to pitch camp and sleep in a tent with all these aches and pains.
But the biggest problem is my husband. If I complain too much, he may want to trade me in on a younger model - one with a sleeker body style. God forbid.
First it was my mouth. I had some dental work and got a blister on the site of the novacaine injections. Since it was right on the muscle that opened my mouth, I couldn't talk (Don thought this was hilarious) for several days. I was in horrible pain and very grumpy.
Last Saturday I was walking around the van to get something out of the trunk when I collided with the rear door. Don had popped the trunk but had only opened it halfway. I was walking very quickly, bent down as I rounded the back, and ran my head right into the corner of the trunk door. Everything went black for a few seconds, then I saw stars. It was very painful and the pain just wouldn't stop after a reason amount of time, like I expected. I probably had a mild concussion. Anyway, my head throbbed for two days and still hurts when I wash or brush my hair.
I was sitting at the computer last night and my ankle was turned inward. My foot began to fall asleep, so I moved my foot and I heard a pop. My bad ankle. Pain shot through it and I couldn't put any weight on it for the rest of the evening.
This afternoon my collar bone on the right side began to hurt. So dramatically, in fact, that I couldn't lift the gallon of milk from the shelf at the grocery store.
I picked the children up from Choir Practice after my shopping and was rattling off my list of woes. Deanna started to laugh. It really was quite comical.
"I hope you get better before we go camping this weekend, Mom," she joked. You're not the only one. I can't imagine trying to pitch camp and sleep in a tent with all these aches and pains.
But the biggest problem is my husband. If I complain too much, he may want to trade me in on a younger model - one with a sleeker body style. God forbid.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Dog Update
I found this old Post yesterday, quite by accident. It's hard to remember Donovan this little. He's almost 2 now and a regular member of the family.
Many things haven't changed. He's still the center of attention. Daelyn crawls into my bed every morning - not to snuggle me, though - to snuggle the Pup. He has to have his cuddle time with Donovan every morning.
Dane walks him twice a day. Daelyn loves to run along beside them. Occasionally, I'll let Daelyn walk him, but Donovan's a little strong for him and it tends to be the dog walking the boy rather than vice versa.
He sleeps with me and Don every night. He always stays up with me and won't go to bed until I head that direction. If it gets real late, sometimes he'll cry for me to put him to bed. Then he waits patiently for an invitation up on the bed. If Don is still awake, Donovan attacks him with kisses - part of their evening routine. He only does this with Don and Dane. None of the rest of us get this "attack lovin'". He usually curls up on top of my legs, using my legs or my body for his pillow and stays there until Don leaves for work in the morning, when he moves up to the head of the bed and takes up residence on Don's pillow. More than once, I've thought Don was still in bed and moved over to snuggle with him, only to discover that the weight was the dog, not the husband.
He's slow to wake up in the morning. Last week, Dane came to my room to get him for his walk. He put Donovan's retractable leash on him. But Donovan wouldn't stand up. Dane dragged him by his leash a little ways across the bed, hoping Donovan would get the idea and stand up. Nope. He was tired and wanted to sleep. That silly boy was disturbing him. This is a quite frequent occurrence. He doesn't like to get up in the morning. If we leave him alone, he'll stumble out to the kitchen in a half hour or so, looking like he has a hangover.
He's my constant companion during the day. He follows me around "like a puppy". (Gee, I wonder where they got THAT expression.) If I'm doing laundry, he's in the hallway outside the laundry room or on the floor of the laundry room, getting in my way. He scratches at the door of the bathroom until someone lets him in if that's where I'm at. If I leave the house, he waits by whichever door I walked out until I return. (It really IS sweet - does this make you want a dog?)
He gets playful every evening, running up and down the hallways, barking at us to play with him. He's quite persistent. He loves tug-of-war and fetch, but is reluctant to give up his toys so you can throw them for him.
He's smart, sweet, obedient, affectionate, loyal, and fun - everything we've ever wanted in a pet. He has become so much a part of the family it is unbelievable. If you had told me three years ago that a dog would matter so much to us, I don't think I would have understood. But now that we have him, he has his distinct place.
All this said, he still is a dog, not a human. He doesn't rate up there with my children. While we love him incredibly, we leave him behind when we go on vacation, something I would never do with my children. We don't feed him table food, and there are many times that he wants attention or playtime that I just say "no", something else I would never deny my children. They come first, unquestionably, right after God and their Daddy. He's somewhere further down the line.
So, when you hear me talk about my sweet puppy, see me walking him, or catch sight of us riding down the road with him in the front passenger seat, keep in mind that my children don't sit in the front because I'm scared to death of an accident and serious injury to them. While we love our dog and feel that he's a member of the family, he's not a human member and our concern for his welfare doesn't quite compare to that of our family or friends.
But he sure is more obedient. And talks a lot less.
Many things haven't changed. He's still the center of attention. Daelyn crawls into my bed every morning - not to snuggle me, though - to snuggle the Pup. He has to have his cuddle time with Donovan every morning.
Dane walks him twice a day. Daelyn loves to run along beside them. Occasionally, I'll let Daelyn walk him, but Donovan's a little strong for him and it tends to be the dog walking the boy rather than vice versa.
He sleeps with me and Don every night. He always stays up with me and won't go to bed until I head that direction. If it gets real late, sometimes he'll cry for me to put him to bed. Then he waits patiently for an invitation up on the bed. If Don is still awake, Donovan attacks him with kisses - part of their evening routine. He only does this with Don and Dane. None of the rest of us get this "attack lovin'". He usually curls up on top of my legs, using my legs or my body for his pillow and stays there until Don leaves for work in the morning, when he moves up to the head of the bed and takes up residence on Don's pillow. More than once, I've thought Don was still in bed and moved over to snuggle with him, only to discover that the weight was the dog, not the husband.
He's slow to wake up in the morning. Last week, Dane came to my room to get him for his walk. He put Donovan's retractable leash on him. But Donovan wouldn't stand up. Dane dragged him by his leash a little ways across the bed, hoping Donovan would get the idea and stand up. Nope. He was tired and wanted to sleep. That silly boy was disturbing him. This is a quite frequent occurrence. He doesn't like to get up in the morning. If we leave him alone, he'll stumble out to the kitchen in a half hour or so, looking like he has a hangover.
He's my constant companion during the day. He follows me around "like a puppy". (Gee, I wonder where they got THAT expression.) If I'm doing laundry, he's in the hallway outside the laundry room or on the floor of the laundry room, getting in my way. He scratches at the door of the bathroom until someone lets him in if that's where I'm at. If I leave the house, he waits by whichever door I walked out until I return. (It really IS sweet - does this make you want a dog?)
He gets playful every evening, running up and down the hallways, barking at us to play with him. He's quite persistent. He loves tug-of-war and fetch, but is reluctant to give up his toys so you can throw them for him.
He's smart, sweet, obedient, affectionate, loyal, and fun - everything we've ever wanted in a pet. He has become so much a part of the family it is unbelievable. If you had told me three years ago that a dog would matter so much to us, I don't think I would have understood. But now that we have him, he has his distinct place.
All this said, he still is a dog, not a human. He doesn't rate up there with my children. While we love him incredibly, we leave him behind when we go on vacation, something I would never do with my children. We don't feed him table food, and there are many times that he wants attention or playtime that I just say "no", something else I would never deny my children. They come first, unquestionably, right after God and their Daddy. He's somewhere further down the line.
So, when you hear me talk about my sweet puppy, see me walking him, or catch sight of us riding down the road with him in the front passenger seat, keep in mind that my children don't sit in the front because I'm scared to death of an accident and serious injury to them. While we love our dog and feel that he's a member of the family, he's not a human member and our concern for his welfare doesn't quite compare to that of our family or friends.
But he sure is more obedient. And talks a lot less.
Monday, October 01, 2007
It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like
Autumn! I walked the children to school this morning - the air is slightly crisp (can't hope for too much in Georgia) and there's a nice breeze blowing. It was enough to turn my eye towards the fall displays at Wal-Mart. I got two fall leave garlands to wrap around the front step banisters and a swag for the front door as well as a lovely arrangement for the dining room table (just three stems with red/orange seed pod thingeys on them in a tall basket vase - subtle, yet elegant - worthy of my mother-in-law). A new front door mat to top off the look and fall vinyl placemats for the kitchen table completed the ensemble. I feel like Fall has fallen in our house.
It turned out it was a good thing I planned on walking the children to school today since I reached for my keys to lock up the house and realized they were shut up tight in the van. The children took my keys out yesterday morning to unlock the van for church. When Don arrived, he put his keys in the ignition and tossed my set onto the floorboard. I slid them under the visor so they couldn't be seen by passersby while we were in church, thus forgetting what is not directly in front of me. But we have AAA, so I gave them a call this morning and they sent a locksmith to retrieve my keys for me.
I'm making chili for dinner tonight, hoping that this cool weather sticks around. It's such a relief for the children whose classrooms are not air conditioned. And I'm subbing all day tomorrow - I could use some cooler weather.
It's going to be a busy week. The trip to Wal-Mart was for an extreme cooler for our camping trip this weekend. All of ours are just regular ones and we needed one that would keep our food VERY cold for a VERY long time. Our friend, Ken, has one that keeps ice frozen for 7 days. We settled on a 5-day one. But I needed to pick it up since there's not really another good days for errands this week.
I'm really looking forward to camping this weekend. If the weather stays this cool and breezy, we should have a wonderful time. Our first ever camping trip as a family was when Deanna turned 4. She had seen Barney episodes about camping and wanted to try it. We borrowed a pop-up camper from some close friends and their van to pull it since we don't have a trailer hitch, and took off for the nearby lake for the weekend. Saturday was warm, but the weather took a cold turn Saturday night and Sunday morning was so chilly, we ate indoors. I'll never forget waking up early Saturday morning. We had left the windows on my side of the pop-up open all night, since we had no neighbors to that side. Deanna and Dane had both ended up in bed with me and Don sometime before dawn. As the sun began to come up, we could see it out my window, rising above the lake. It was awe-inspiring. The children and I lay there, watching the reds, yellows and oranges of early morning and appreciating the coolness in the air. We traded places about every 15 minutes so everyone got to snuggle everyone else. Then the children and I vacated the camper so Daddy could sleep a little longer and set out to find more firewood. It was a memory I'll never forget and probably is the basis of my love of camping.
So, hold out weather. We might not get too many orange and red leaves in Georgia, but I have them on my banister and my table now. And this weekend will be the perfect opportunity to appreciate the beginning of cooler temperatures - snuggled close under the warmth of our sleeping bags, listening to crickets and the water lapping against the shore.
Ah - this is life. At least, that to which I would LIKE to become accustomed.
It turned out it was a good thing I planned on walking the children to school today since I reached for my keys to lock up the house and realized they were shut up tight in the van. The children took my keys out yesterday morning to unlock the van for church. When Don arrived, he put his keys in the ignition and tossed my set onto the floorboard. I slid them under the visor so they couldn't be seen by passersby while we were in church, thus forgetting what is not directly in front of me. But we have AAA, so I gave them a call this morning and they sent a locksmith to retrieve my keys for me.
I'm making chili for dinner tonight, hoping that this cool weather sticks around. It's such a relief for the children whose classrooms are not air conditioned. And I'm subbing all day tomorrow - I could use some cooler weather.
It's going to be a busy week. The trip to Wal-Mart was for an extreme cooler for our camping trip this weekend. All of ours are just regular ones and we needed one that would keep our food VERY cold for a VERY long time. Our friend, Ken, has one that keeps ice frozen for 7 days. We settled on a 5-day one. But I needed to pick it up since there's not really another good days for errands this week.
I'm really looking forward to camping this weekend. If the weather stays this cool and breezy, we should have a wonderful time. Our first ever camping trip as a family was when Deanna turned 4. She had seen Barney episodes about camping and wanted to try it. We borrowed a pop-up camper from some close friends and their van to pull it since we don't have a trailer hitch, and took off for the nearby lake for the weekend. Saturday was warm, but the weather took a cold turn Saturday night and Sunday morning was so chilly, we ate indoors. I'll never forget waking up early Saturday morning. We had left the windows on my side of the pop-up open all night, since we had no neighbors to that side. Deanna and Dane had both ended up in bed with me and Don sometime before dawn. As the sun began to come up, we could see it out my window, rising above the lake. It was awe-inspiring. The children and I lay there, watching the reds, yellows and oranges of early morning and appreciating the coolness in the air. We traded places about every 15 minutes so everyone got to snuggle everyone else. Then the children and I vacated the camper so Daddy could sleep a little longer and set out to find more firewood. It was a memory I'll never forget and probably is the basis of my love of camping.
So, hold out weather. We might not get too many orange and red leaves in Georgia, but I have them on my banister and my table now. And this weekend will be the perfect opportunity to appreciate the beginning of cooler temperatures - snuggled close under the warmth of our sleeping bags, listening to crickets and the water lapping against the shore.
Ah - this is life. At least, that to which I would LIKE to become accustomed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)