Word Puzzles

Don got a puzzle book for Dane to help keep him occupied during his recovery. I tried to get him to work on some of them, but he wasn't interested. I found one that interested me. You had to make words, 11 in total, and there were already several letters listed for each word. You couldn't repeat any letters in the same word or use any letters in the word above or the word below. You got extra points for using ALL the letters in the alphabet in you 11 words.

I piddled with it a little, but couldn't seem to grab Dane's attention. However, Don worked with him on Friday, doing several of the puzzles together, and Dane got interested.

I had gone to run some errands and when I got home, I found Don and Dane at the kitchen table working on puzzles. I flipped to my page and Dane and I began working the word puzzle together. We did the first one, then I started working on dinner and he attacked the second. Deanna and Daelyn wandered in and sat at the table, eager to help.

"I need a word that begins with 'Am' and has five letters," Dane announced to the group gathered.

"Uh, what about ambitious?" I asked. Nope. Too many letters. Ambivalent? No. Amplitude? No. It went on and on. I racked my brain trying to come up with words that began with 'am'.

Finally, when I thought I couldn't think up one more work, Daelyn casually mentioned,

"Would 'amber' work, brother?"

Dane shrieked. "That's IT!" Deanna gasped. I laughed. It just figures.

Daelyn, the youngest one in the room, solved the word puzzle. How does he even KNOW the word 'amber'?

The simple answer? He's Daelyn.

Career Choices

Dane loves his new job! That ID badge says, "Jerusalem Hospital Staff" and under the picture has his name, "Dr. Luke, MD", which I realize is redundant, but we were really pushing the point. I think he looks like he just stepped out of the Operating Room, only a little too happy.


Then there's the next one. Not too happy. It was a tough case. He had to bring along a body guard, who just happens to be a Roman soldier.

Then there's the picture Deanna calls "Daelyn's Wardrobe Malfunction"! I love it!

Last, but not least, is one taken the first day of school. Daelyn wanted to wear his red shirt, which the school considers their "travel" shirt and they wear for special occasions. I suspected he would be the only boy in the class in a red shirt. However, his two closest friends, the ones that he's been buds with practically since birth, also wore their red shirts and all ended up together on the front row. I LOVE their expressions. Not too tickled about being back in school, except Augie, the blonde to the right. He's sporting a slight smile. This picture about sums up my week. Enjoy!

More of the Same

Yet another fight scene in "Lord of the Ring". In this one, Aragon is dragged off a cliff by one of those evil lion-horse creatures ridden by Orcs. Everyone assumes he's dead. Of course, we know better. His horse saves him.

At least, for now, Dane's not snarling at me like those lion-horse things, like he's been for the last two days. He was pretty-well behaved on Monday, the day of surgery. He was hurting and exhausted and alternated between crying and sleeping. But the next day, the truth of his predicament began to settle in.

"Mama, surgery is NOT fun. It hurts," he pronounced on Tuesday.

"Yes, dear. That's why it's only a LAST option. We try everything else first."

As the pain sets in and the boredom overtakes him, he gets snarlier and snarlier. Yesterday he grumped at me, "I'm THIRSTY!" No, "Mama, could you please get me a drink," no "Mama, I really need a refill of your wonderful tea that you're letting me drink." Nope. Just "I'm THIRSTY!" yelled at me. Then, when I didn't move as quickly as he thought I should (I was in the middle of something), he snarled again, "WHEN are you going to get me my drink?"

"Dear, I know you're hurting and this is hard for you, but I am not your slave or your servant. I am your mother and I expect you to treat me with respect."

He does try. He's a good boy. He's just struggling.

So I try and find things for him to do, quiet things that don't require bending his head forward or moving, but things that will keep him occupied. Yesterday, he asked if I could call the mother of one of his friends and make arrangements for one of his friends to come over and visit after school today. I know he's lonesome and wants company from someone other than me, but I'm afraid his friends won't understand the importance of him being still. Besides, what 9-yr. old boy wants to sit around and talk? And Dane can't do much else.

So I banish him from friends and most of all the other things he wants to do. I've pulled out several crafts projects for him and his daddy bought him a puzzle book. He has a laptop on which he can play games and I'm letting him watch unlimited movies. But sitting still for days just isn't in his nature and it's wearing on both of us.

Today is the 3rd day post-surgery. Maybe by tomorrow he'll feel well enough to do a little more. They said he'd be much better in a week's time. That means we're almost half-way there.

And his daddy will be home tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday. New blood and new ideas. YAY!

Bed bugs

For part of our Honeymoon, Don rented a villa in Kauai for several days. Kauai isn't the tourist hub that Maui and Hawaii are. Although there were a few hotels, the better option was the villa.

The master bedroom had a king-size bed. The hotel we had stayed in on Maui (the island we visited before Kauai) had a queen and the hotel where we spent our wedding night had a queen, also. We had never slept in a king together.

We HATED it. We made an agreement right then to never own a king-size bed. We had just experienced sleeping with another human (of the opposite sex, that is. I had shared beds with my sisters for many years growing up) and we both liked it. Then we got swallowed up by this king-size bed. We spent the whole night swimming through the bed, trying to find each other in our sleep while we dreamed of being isolated and alone. NOT a good experience.

The truth is, our vacation condo in Hilton Head has a king-size bed and I tend to enjoy it for the first two nights or so. It's nice, occasionally, to not run into another body all night long. But the novelty wears off after about two nights alone (or at least it feels like I'm alone) and we start night three plumb in the middle of the bed, snuggled up together so we won't lose each other so easily.

While we were on our honeymoon, Don had some friends move his bed into my house, so we returned to a full-size bed. I had a full-size, too, just not as nice as his and the mattress wasn't as firm and he has to have a firm mattress . . . Anyway, we spent the first 6 years or so of our marriage in a full. But, by then, we had 3 children and our bed was getting a little crowded. The children's favorite place to be was right inbetween us in our bed. That had been my favorite place, also, as a child, and Don and I put the babies between us the first night we were home from the hospital with them, so they were used to that position. However, a six-year old is a little bigger than a 3-day old. Add two more children, and full was overfull.

I asked Don if we could buy a queen-size bed, but money was tight and he didn't think we could afford it. My pregnancies had wiped out most of our reserves and a larger bed was frivolous. Then I got a subpoena for the Grand Jury. We agreed I would take my Jury pay and we would invest in a larger bed.

And so it was. For the last 7 years, we've had a queen-size bed. Much more room for the children and Don and I can even roll over in bed at night without forcing the other spouse to the floor. We've loved our full-size bed and, although the room wasn't plentiful, it was enough most of the time.

Add Dane post-surgery and Donovan to the picture. Now we have two grown (and not small) adults, a lanky 9-yr. old, and an overweight, supposed to be 17-lb. dog and the queen-size bed is getting smaller with each night. Dane slept with us again and, for some reason, when the children are in the bed with me, they gravitate towards my side. I had a tiny sliver at the edge, so small in fact that I had to sleep on my side all night, there was no room for laying flat. When the alarm went off at 1:15 so I could give Dane his next dose of pain medicine, I sat on the side of the bed pulling the right amount up in the syringe. When I turned around to dose him, he had totally taken over my spot. Once I got his medicine down and a chaser of decaf sweet tea from his sipper, I had to wake him up to have him move over. I glanced at Don's side of the bed. He could have fit the whole neighborhood on his side. There was enough room for at least two more people. He lay prone, arms and legs sprawled, taking up 3/4 of the bed himself, while Dane, Donovan and I were crammed into 1/4.

I realize the problem isn't Don. This always happens when the children are in bed with us. Even in that king-size bed at the beach. When the babies were little and I'd put them in the middle of the big bed to make it easier to nurse during the night, I'd wake to nurse and discover that this tiny little baby had managed to migrate to wherever I was in the bed. I'd nurse them, then scoot them to the absolute middle to give me some room to move. But I'd awaken later to find them pressed up against me again. Always ME. Never Don.

Nothing's changed. I move a little closer to the edge, Dane squooshes up against me. I sit on the edge, he takes my place completely.

I'm rethinking that whole king-size bed agreement-thing. The day may yet come.

Will our children still want to snuggle in the bed when they're teenagers?

Surgery

Dane had his sinus surgery yesterday. He was very thirsty, since he couldn't have anything to eat or drink after midnight the night before. When I woke at 6 a.m., he was already fully dressed, sitting in the den watching a movie. Don was on the computer.

"What are you doing up?" I asked, incredulous.

Don snickered. "He's been up for at least an hour," he said. I gawked at Dane.

"I couldn't sleep, Mama. I was too nervous," he said softly.

I understood. I was struggling with the same issue. By the time we left for the surgical center at 8 a.m., he was very thirsty. After 20 minutes or so in pre-op, he asked for a drink. The nurse took full advantage of the opportunity and gave him a cupful of "red courage" - happy juice. And, boy, did he get happy. In fact, quite silly. By the time they took him back at 9:45, he laughed, smiled, and waved goodbye to us.

The doctor had allotted 45 minutes for his surgery. The anesthesiologist told us that an hour was more practical. An hour and 15 minutes later, I was starting to get pretty nervous. But he made it through just fine.

Coming out of the anesthesia was tough. He cried a lot and was in a good deal of pain. They gave him several doses of pain meds, then let us take him home. He had a hard time, asking me to let someone else drive so I could hold him in the van. That wasn't possible. I got him home and settled in my bed with a phone and a drink. Then I went to listen to the answering machine.

Among the well-wishes for Dane was a message from my father that my sister had been taken to the Emergency Room. Turns out, taken by ambulance. She had blood in her urine and they think she has kidney stones. I had to leave Dane with Don, go to her husband work, pick up extra keys to their house (she left hers at home when the ambulance took her to the hospital), then go to the hospital and pressure them to release her (the doctor had written her Release Orders three hours previously and they hadn't done anything about it) and drive her home. I didn't get back home until 5:30 and there were several other problems waiting for me, including a hurtin' little boy.

Dane seems to be unable to really rest. And the less he rests, the more his nose bleeds and the worse he hurts. We put him to bed between Don and I last night because he was a little afraid of being in a room down the hall by himself. Although he slept great, Don and I didn't. By the time he recovers, I'm going to need a week's recovery.

Today I was just getting ready to jump into my chores when I got a call from the school.

"First of all, let me just say that Daelyn's okay," the Principal told me. Uh-oh. That's not a good way to start a conversation.

Daelyn had been in a collision on the playground with another boy and had a gash just below his eyebrow. He needed stitches. I made arrangements for my parents to stay with Dane, then took off to pick up Daelyn and take him to the Pediatrician. They were able to glue him back together, so he didn't have to get numbing shots, thank goodness. The doctor and I both felt like he needed to rest quietly the rest of the day, so I brought him home and tried to get him settled. No luck. Between him and Dane, they kept me hopping.

My 30-minute attempt at a nap was interrupted 6 times - 3 times by phone calls and 3 times by Dane. I'm tired and getting grumpy. And Dane is getting demanding with his requests. I had to caution him today to ask me for a drink nicely instead of barking out "I'm thirsty!"

Maybe I'll get a nap tomorrow. Here's hoping.

Apply-ances

My career was as a Human Resources professional. I worked first for a small, family-owned business (actually, they owned 4 businesses - the owner was quite an entrepreneur), then left there and went to work for an International pharmaceutical company at a manufacturing facility. The women who worked in the Plant were always telling me "old wives' tales" or their superstitions.

For instance, they used to always say that death goes in threes. In other words, if someone you love dies, two other people close to you will soon die. It might be the parent of an in-law or a friend, but deaths always run in threes and the other two are personal.

I've noticed over the years that deaths do seem to run in threes. I'm not a superstitious person and I find it very odd, but I'm never surprised anymore when the second death hits and maybe even a little prepared when I hear of the third.

Lest you think I'm wacko, I really don't LOOK for additional deaths when the first one happens. And maybe it's all malarky. But the one I'm really interested in is that appliances break in two's.

I have often been concerned that maybe this is true. Not long after Don and I first married, one of our appliances went out. I can't quite remember which one, but something had to be replaced. The next thing we knew, the dryer wasn't drying our clothes. Don spent a Saturday messing with it, went out a bought a new part for it, got all ready to install the new part when, presto, the dryer started working again. It seems that it only gives us problems on a certain cycle.

For at least 8 years now, we've held off using the part. It still sits in the laundry room (tucked away in a cabinet now) and I've always felt like we cheated fate, and happily so.

If there's anything to this deaths in 3's and appliances in 2's thing, fate is getting me back.

Several weekends ago, Don made dinner for the children for me. He seldom does that anymore, even though he's a great cook. When I got home, he informed me that the oven wasn't closing. Assuming he was using this as an excuse to not cook anymore, I checked it myself. Sure enough. The door was sitting about an inch open. You could push it closed, but it would pop back out again as soon as you removed the pressure.

He told me he'd work on it the following weekend and see if he couldn't get the door to behave. In the meantime, I was doing my cooking with the door slightly ajar - until Thursday night, Pizza Night. I popped the frozen pizza into my 400 degree preheated oven but before the pizza was ready, one of the knobs had melted off the front of the oven. The next day, Don began taking it apart.

Saturday afternoon, he declared, "The oven is dead. We need to take it in the backyard and shoot it. You better get on-line and find yourself a new oven."

On-line didn't quite do it for me. I wanted to see the oven in person before I made a commitment to it. I suggested we go as a family to look at ovens and eat dinner while we were out. He agreed.

We finally settled on one from Sears. It's black (which Deanna and I both wanted and Don thought was silly because it wouldn't go with the rest of our appliances), gas, and has lots of features I really have wanted, included self-cleaning and programmable cooking so it can start the job while you're not even home.

It was delivered the following Monday and it took Don several evenings to get it leveled and hooked up. But I'm very happy with our new oven.

However . . . (you knew that was coming, didn't you?) within a week, we had another appliance mishap. Last Sunday evening (it MAY have been 2 weeks ago), I sent the boys to take their baths. Deanna had run up to my parents' house to interview my mother for a school project. I was in the kitchen, making lunches, loading the dishwasher, and throwing together dinner for the children when Daelyn ran in and said that someone had used up all his hot water.

"You just have to turn the handle further, son," I instructed him.

"Mama, it didn't matter how far I turned the handle - the water was still cold!"

Following a deep discussion about just how far he turned the handle, I decided the check for myself. Sure enough, pretty much ice cold water, and both boys had bathed in it.

I asked Don to check the circuit breakers, but when he was slow to break away from what he was doing, I checked them myself. He called to me while I was looking.

"The water heater isn't on a circuit breaker, Mommy. It's gas."

Sure enough. No circuits thrown. Don got up and checked the water heater. The drip pan was full of rusty water. Not good news.

The short version is that I spent the entire day yesterday getting an approval code from Rheem (it was still under Warranty) for a new one, then going to a Rheem dealer and filling out all the paperwork, then having it delivered. Today a plumber connected it up.

I was breathing a sigh of relief. "Okay," I thought, "that's our two appliances," when the vent fan over the stove suddenly came to a grinding halt while I was using it.

"Uh, oh," Don said, "do we need a new hood, also?"

"Maybe we can get one in black to match the oven," I suggested. And, no, I didn't rig it. Did I have the numbers wrong with appliances?

Memories of England

Dane has Show-and-Tell tomorrow and for two weeks, he's been planning what he was going to take into school. He wants to show off the button that he got from Buckingham Palace when we were in London 2 Christmases ago.

Since he's spent so much time thinking about it and planning for it, I decided I needed to give it Due Diligence. This morning, I got on the computer and started looking over our pictures of England. I've printed 7 on plain paper as sort of a pictorial diary of the story he plans to tell which is repeated below.

Don had about a week off after Christmas. He worked 7 days a week in England, very long hours each day. He got up early on Sunday morning, went to the 8:00 service at the Parish Church, then walked the 2 or 3 miles into work. Everyone else arrived much earlier than him so he couldn't catch a ride, but he wasn't willing to give up church attendance for this job.

Since he finally had some time off, we decided to see some of England during that time. We felt out time would be best spent going to London, so we booked train tickets for December 27 (the 26th is Boxing Day in England, which is a Holiday, so the trains don't run - the earliest we could book was the 27th), packed our bags, reserved a hotel room, and took off.

Don had done lots of research and booked us on some tours, which turned out to be VERY smart. Walking in London is exhausting, but we could hop off or on any of our tour buses for 2 days at any of the stops, so we were able to ride from place to place, tour, then hop a bus to the next site we wanted to enjoy. The deal he booked even came with tickets for all of us to take a sunset cruise on the Thames.

Cut to the chase. They only do the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So we got there early (or so we thought) on Tuesday. The square in front of Buckingham had thousands upon thousands of people crammed shoulder to shoulder. The sidewalk in front of the Palace was jammed, also. We were only 5 of thousands who had gotten there early. It looked like some people had spent the night.

After sitting across the street for awhile and being chased off a wall (where we put the children in the hopes they could see better) by a Bobby (Policeman in English), we decided to elbow our way into the mass of people on the sidewalk in front of the gates. We found the spectators to be quite sociable. There was an American family from Texas that pulled us up to the fence, then gave us their spots so we could stick the camera through the slats of the iron fence and take pictures. I was worried about losing the children in the crowd and hung onto hands hard.

After the ceremony (during which the band played American Showtunes, which was interesting, but certainly NOT what I expected), the Palace Guards made their way out the front gates of Buckingham, into the street, then down the street, marching and playing. The crowd quickly began to dissipate.

As it thinned, we pushed our way forward, very near the front gates, which were locked. But there were some palace guards still inside and a Police Box just inside the gate, manned by a Bobby, not a Palace Guard, which I thought was VERY curious. Why have Palace Guards if they don't guard the Palace?

There's a railing that comes down from the sides of the gate across the wide sidewalk to mark off the driveway into the Palace. A couple of German women were standing at the railing and motioned to me to bring the children closer. They gave the boys their spots at the railing, which the boys began climbing on. About that time, one of the Palace Guards that was still inside headed for the Police Box. He talked with the Bobby, then they both headed to the gate, the Bobby with a ring of keys in his hand. He unlocked the gate, let the Guard out, then began to relock the gate behind him when he spotted the boys. He began walking towards us. I've got a picture of him, coming right for us. He has the keys in one hand, and the other hand is closed around . . . something. (You can see the railing on the other side of the driveway in the picture.)



He approached Dane (I thought he was going to get after us about climbing on the railing, like the Bobby who had chased us off the Wall) and asked him if he had enjoyed the Show. Dane just sort of looked at him. I prompted him with a polite response. The Bobby chatted for a few minutes, then turned his left hand over in front of Dane. Inside was a shiny, gold button. He told Dane that one of the Guards had lost a button during the Ceremony and asked Dane if he would like to have it. Dane's eyes got big around and he nodded quietly. The policeman snickered and gave it to him.

People immediately began gathering around Dane, oohing and aahing. Many wanted to take pictures. As the crowd closed in, I felt like Charlie in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the old one, not the one with Johnny Depp, which I haven't seen) when he finds the last golden ticket and a crowd begins to press in around him. The newspaper seller that Charlie works for yells, "Run home, Charlie. Run!" I grabbed Dane and Daelyn and we got the heck out of there. I was afraid someone would steal his button right out of my hand.

We were so-o-o-o-o thrilled. Out of all the thousands of people who gathered there twice weekly, we were chosen to be given the button. And I doubt Palace Guards pop buttons off their uniforms every day. This was probably something that happened once a year or so. How many people have crowded into Buckingham Square in a year's time? We knew that this was a once in a many million opportunity. It was the highlight of our day.

The next day we continued our tour with a visit to the Tower of London. The Tower of London is still a Palace of the Realm. There are high walls all around the perimeter and many buildings inside the walls. In fact, the entire Corps of Beefeaters live within the Tower of London with their families. In the center of the compound is the White Tower. This is where important political prisoners were once held captive, such as Ann Boelyn and Oliver Cromwell. The Crown Jewels are secured in the Tower of London (which we got to see) and so are suits of armor and weapons of torture and execution used throughout England's history. The boys loved THAT.

Midway through the day, Don and Deanna left me and the boys. Don had bought tickets to take Deanna to see "Wicked", a Broadway Musical which was playing in London. Turns out, the performance that Deanna attended was the final performance with the original Broadway Cast. Beginning with the next performance, the London Cast was taking over. Don wanted to surprise her so we hadn't mentioned any of the plans to her. But I had packed her dressiest clothes and shoes and Don's suit in my backpack. We went into bathrooms and I did Deanna's hair and packed back up the clothes she was wearing for touring. We said goodbye to Daddy and Sissy after making plans to meet up later for dinner, then the boys and I continued our tour.

I really enjoyed talking with the Beefeaters. They're so knowledgeable about EVERYTHING and to become a Beefeater, you have to be a Veteran of a certain number of years in the Queen's Army - I don't remember the number, but I think it's 25 or more. You also must have attained a certain rank. If interested, you go on a waiting list for an interview. There are only a small number of Beefeaters (43 or so, I think) and hundreds of men on the waiting list. You have to wait for one to retire before the next soldier on the list gets the call up.

There was an historical encampment on the grounds of the Tower of London that the boys and I toured. We spoke with the people representing historical figures and wandered around. Then we spotted two Palace Guards walking towards us, two young men. It was surprising to see Palace Guards inside the Tower, which is policed by the Beefeaters, so the boys and I approached them and asked a few questions. While we were talking, I noticed the buttons on one of the guards coats. It was identical to Dane's from the previous day. I got excited and started pointing them out to Dane.

"Look, son," I said. "Just like your button." As I pointed, I moved my finger up the soldiers coat, pointing to each button in turn, until I reached his chest. NO BUTTON.

"Your button's undone," I told him, politely.

"No, not undone," he said. "Lost. I guess I had too much Christmas Dinner."

"You popped a button?" I asked him. And, of course, you can figure out the rest of the story for yourself. HE was the Palace Guard who had lost his button the day before at Buckingham.

What's the line from Casa Blanca? "Of all the ____ joints in all the world . . . " That's exactly how we felt. The probability of being handed a button in the first place was astronomical. But, then, to meet that very guard the next day in a totally different location - chances had to be one in a trillion.

He posed for pictures with my boys, the missing button spot prominently displayed. Dane will never forget this story, neither will the rest of us. It probably was the most memorable part of our 3 months in England.

So, he's chronicling it for his classmates tomorrow. And I'm chronicling it for myself here. I'm getting older, details get fuzzy . . .

Questions, questions

Okay, I want to tread lightly here, but I have a question to pose, in light of the election results last week.

At what point does God choose to stop "fixing" our mistakes and let us live out the results of our decisions? As parents, we practice tough love sometimes with our children. In order to help them mature, sometimes we choose to not cushion the uncomfortability of some of the situations they get themselves into. They have to learn prudence and they never will if we continually protect them from the consequences of their actions.

Does God do the same for us? While I absolutely and completely believe that God awesomely loves us and only wants the good for us, did He not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah? Did he not bring judgement against individuals in biblical history that chose to ignore him or outright disobey Him? Moses wasn't allowed to enter the Promise Land because of one fit of temper and a thoughtless act of flinging the tablets in anger. And I understand that was the "Old Testament God", before the coming of Christ. But God is still God.

I've also watched, over the years, as painful things have happened to my family and others I love. God CAN but doesn't always choose to heal. How many people do we know that died of cancer? How many women have lost babies. How many people have lost children after birth? Is this because God is callous or unfeeling?

NO! God is the epitomy of caring and love. He IS love. But I've come to believe that God seldom intervenes in the affairs of man. He created nature and He set it up to work a certain way. Why do so many unwed 16-yr. old girls get pregnant after one night of indiscretion, many of them good girls who love the Lord and have been raised with Christian values but just slipped in the heat of passion? Because God created our bodies to function a certain way and he seldom intervenes and stops them from working that way. That said, the reason we have Dane in our family is because God made something unnatural happen with my body. I double ovulated the month Dane was conceived, 12 days apart. I was certain I was safe - absolutely certain, until I ovulated the second time. I know God intervened. Bodies are not supposed to work that way. But why do people get emphysema? The natural consequence of pollution and/or smoking. Why does my father have hardening of the arteries that caused him to go blind? Because he grew up eating wild meat in the backwoods of Canada, much of it salted for preservation.

It's not that I don't believe God CAN make the situation with our government all okay, it's just that I wonder if He even wants to. His people were held in captivity over and over again. They've struggled and fought for their tiny strip of land. Are we in the U.S. any better than God's chosen people, the Israelites?

I'm not trying to light fires here, just posing a question I've been pondering in my heart. Last night, at a meeting I attended that is also attended by a Christian (Spirit-filled) Jewish Rabbi and his wife, we talked about the state of the country. He said that at his last Rabbi's gathering, they were all in agreement that Scripture exhorts us to pray for the King, and our King will soon be Obama. Many of the Rabbi's in his group (the Messianic Rabbinical Association) are from Florida where there is a large Neo-Nazi movement. Some of the Temples have FBI agents that attend their services and are armed just in case of trouble. The FBI has told these Rabbis that the Neo-Nazi's have a clear intent and plan to assassinate Obama. As much as I would like to see someone else in our White House, the thought of the heinousness of that act and what would follow in our country if it was to happen sent chills down my spine and threw me immediately into fervent prayer for the Lord's protection around our President-elect.

There's no question in my mind that we need to pray for our country and ALL it's leaders. But we needed to before the election just as badly as we need to now. People have shared scriptures with me since the election such as Psalm 23 to bring comfort. My mother has said, "God is still on the throne!" Of course He is. And, yes, He wants to lead us beside still waters. But I don't think He's going to stick a bit in our mouths and drag us to still waters anymore than I believe that His being on the throne will change Obama's agenda. We need to pray for our country and President-elect Obama, the Congress and Supreme Court that will be deciding the laws of our land, but we also need to prepare for a United States that may look very different in 4 years.

And, on top of all that, I'll pose another question - how much power does a President really have? Can they EVER accomplish an agenda? Does it even matter (except, of course, in the case of foreign policy and how we're seen abroad) who lives and works in Washington, DC? In my disappointment last Wednesday, I felt the Lord prompted a thought in me: We survived not 4 but 8 years of Bill Clinton. Can we not also weather the upcoming 4 years?

Just the ponderings of my heart on this Wednesday morning in the middle of November.

The Verdict on Dane

Dane is scheduled for surgery next Monday, November 17. It will be in the morning, probably very early, but we don't have the time yet and won't know until Friday afternoon. They'll confirm the surgical schedule and call us with the time.

He has "Pan sinusitis" which is infection in every sinus cavity. They will be going into every sinus except the frontals, which are very small in children and make the surgery much more dangerous. The doctor is hoping that by clearing drain holes in the ethmoids, which are just below the frontals, the frontals will be able to drain down. Hope he's right.

Dane's very worried and I have lots of planning to do and arrangements to make.

God's Sense of Humor

If any of you doubt that God does, indeed, have a sense of humor, read on. How could He possibly have created my family and be stoic. He must get great joy and lots of laughter from our antics.

Tomorrow is my mother's birthday. We're not planning anything big, since Daddy celebrated his 80th just a few weeks ago and we had a big shindig for him. But my father showed up at my house yesterday concerned.

"Hon, I don't have any ideas for your mother's birthday. I've been waiting to hear from you girls, but no one's called. I don't know what I'm going to do!"

There was real concern in his voice. I reassured him, then told him I'd gather the sisters and we'd do something for Mom. Thus began the day-long saga.

Since we have Choir Practice on Wednesday nights (and we've just started working on the Christmas Program and need every second of practice time we can get), I decided we should all try to take Mom to lunch. I called my two sisters that live in this area. Neither were home. I left messages for both of them explaining what I was proposing and asking for call-backs.

Quite a while later, one sister called back. She said that she had to take her daughter to school at 12, but could meet for lunch later. I asked when her daughter got out of school.

"4:30," she responded.

"Isn't that a little late for lunch?" I was a little taken aback. Was she really proposing we wait until after Amanda finished with school, at 4:30, to grab lunch together?

"What does that have to do with lunch?" she asked. We were both equally confused. I assumed that, if she had to take Amanda to school that she'd also have to collect her again. She's told me before that she runs errands in town while Amanda's in school or sits in the parking lot and reads or prays. Apparently, what she meant to say was that she had to drop Amanda off at 12, then was free until 4:30, when she would have to go back to pick her up. It took a few minutes of explanation for us both to get clear, but we managed.

"Okay!" I was getting excited. Two down, one to go. "So you could meet somewhere at 12:30." Now, if I could just get a call-back from the other sister.

"I have an idea," she said. "How about you pick me up at home, I'll let Amanda take my van to school, we'll eat somewhere out here (she lives a 40-minute drive from town in a neighboring small town) and then go to that Second Hand Store that Mama and Toni love."

Sounded good to me. I waited to hear from Toni. Before I did, Mama called and said she had talked to Toni.

"Really? I left a message for her hours ago and she hasn't yet called me back." I was getting a little frustrated.

"Well, she said she was REALLY busy," Mom explained.

Finally, Toni called.

"I have something at 10:00 that I'm in charge of. It'll probably last until 12 or 12:30. Then I have floor duty in the office, starting at 1:00 and can't leave until 5:30. Lunch is completely out for me."

Back to Ground Zero.

"But," she added, "I could do it on Thursday. I have nothing on my calendar for Thursday. Could YOU do it then?"

I glanced quickly at my calendar. All clear. In fact, nothing all week. I wasn't sure when Dane was going to get scheduled for surgery, so I kept my calendar clean.

"I'm available all week. But I'll have to call Trina back," which I did. But first, I called my father to make sure Mom was available on Thursday. He said it looked okay to him.

Trina said that Thursday was a possibility, but Amanda had an appointment and she wasn't sure exactly what time. She'd call me back later.

Without going into any more nitty gritty, I'll end the saga here but, trust me, there were many more phone calls and much more arranging to be done.

We are having lunch TODAY. Forget Wednesday . . . and Thursday. It all got moved to Tuesday - because Amanda's available on Tuesday and could go with us. As you can imagine, that took several more phone calls. Then we had to address the issue of where to eat.

When I finally crawled into bed last night, I realized that it took an entire day to make lunch plans for 4, two of whom were shoe-ins. And it wasn't just a day spent waiting on calls. It was making them and taking them - ad nauseum.

I'm picking Mom up at noon, then swinging by the school to get Deanna. We are meeting Trina and Amanda and my other sister, Toni, at a Chinese restaurant at 12:30.

It was a day well-spent, all things considered, but I can't help but think that God must be chuckling in Heaven about the "Hunt Women". We're quite a crowd. The good side is that we love each other enough to keep playing these lunch games. And at least one of us was motivated to make it happen.

No wonder Daddy didn't know what to do. He probably has enough experience to know what he was in for if he tried planning anything.

Gotta Keep 'Em Happy

Don and I are again Chairing the Silent Auction fund-raiser for the children's school. It will be held on Saturday, December 8. There's lots to do and very little time. Also, we're planning on spending Christmas with his parents in West Virginia, so I don't have those last few days to finish things up around the house.

Realizing that if I wasn't really on the ball and didn't have a clear plan for preparing for Christmas (like last year), the time would slip away from me and I would discover too late that I hadn't gotten everything accomplished (like last year).

So, at one of my many doctor's appointments, whilst waiting in the Lobby, I pulled out my pocket calendar and started planning. It looked something like this.

Week of November 2 - Write X-Mas Letter and X-mas Cards
Week of November 9 - X-Mas Baking
Week of November 16 - X-Mas Baking
Week of November 23 - Shopping/Wrapping (Thanksgiving Week)
Week of November 30 - Prepare for Silent Auction (What a Joke! I'm spending hours each day preparing for the Silent Auction. But at least I realized that I needed to devote a whole week to it without other preparations to worry about!)

And so on and so forth . . .

I began the baking on Saturday, having finished up my cards on Friday. I had already made a list of the cookies, pastries, and candies I wanted to make this year so I made up the grocery list, including those items, and started on the things for which I already had the ingredients. Sunday afternoon, the children figured out what was up.

"Mom, I want haystacks this year," said Dane, chirping up from the kitchen table while eating his dinner.

"Sorry, son," I responded while standing at the sink loading the dishwasher. "They're not on the list this year."

"Certainly, you're making Scotch Shortbread," informed Deanna. "It's Grandpa's favorite!"

"No, actually, it's not on the list, either."

Silence from the children for several seconds.

"Just what IS on the list?" Dane asked softly.

"Well, let's see. I know I'm making Baklava and Danish Pastry and Truffles for Daddy," I responded, trying to sound upbeat.

"I HATE Baklava," Daelyn piped up.

"No HAYSTACKS?" asked Dane in a concerted tone. "I LOVE your Haystacks."

"I'll read you the list, children," I responded, a little less upbeat. "I was just trying to do some different things this year that we don't have EVERY year."

"But we LIKE the things you make every year," Deanna pleaded.

I read them the list. They weren't impressed.

Today I'm making Scotch Shortbread and Haystacks. Then maybe I can get on with my REAL Christmas baking.

Full Up, At Last

Don is allergic to seafood - not just shellfish, but ALL fish, fish of any kind, fish, fish, fish. He won't even kiss me if I've eaten seafood. So, when he's not with us, like those trips to Grandma and Grandpa Doughty's with just the kids, we tend to take advantage of the opportunity to get seafood. Then there was last summer at the beach. I picked up freshly-steamed, seasoned shrimp at the grocery store twice, then made cocktail sauce and kicked back on the couch, suckin' down shrimp while watching T.V. Ah, bliss. I couldn't have done this if Don was with us. I can't even put seafood in the fridge. He says it taints the taste and smell of everything else in the refrigerator or freezer.

But Don's allergy isn't the problem. The real issue is, Dane's favorite food in the whole world is . . . you guessed it - seafood. Specifically, shrimp scampi. I don't quite remember how he discovered shrimp scampi, but suffice it to say that Daelyn, from the age of 2, referred to Red Lobster as Shrimp Scampi each week as we passed it on our way to Sunday School, church, and choir practice.

Friday night I decided to take the kids out to dinner since we were one family member short. It was Don's last night in C0lorado and I thought it would be fun for us to go out for an early dinner. Deanna commented that we should go out for seafood. I hadn't thought of that but immediately realized that was the perfect plan.

When we arrived at Red Lobster early so we could beat the weekend crowd and get in and out in a relatively short time, we were immediately seated. Our waitress told us that this was the final weekend for the "Endless Shrimp" promotion. Dane's eyes lit up.

Although it was a little pricey (especially for a 9-yr. old) at $15.99 a head, we chose the Endless Shrimp for Dane. It included two types of shrimp (which they would refill endlessly), a salad and a side dish. I decided I would eat Dane's salad and baked potato so he could concentrate on shrimp. He chose the Cajun Shrimp and, of course, Scampi.

Without going into all the details, I'll just say that 5 servings of shrimp later (yes, I said 5!), Dane finally admitted to having his fill of shrimp. For his last serving, he chose the Cajun, then dunked them into the sauce left from two servings of scampi so he got the best of both kinds. Deanna had taken along a book and she used it. We all sat, trying to wait patiently, as Dane ate and ATE AND ATE!

I have to admit, I don't think I would have felt that I got my money's worth if he had stopped much sooner, but I was a little surprised at how much shrimp this boy could polish off. There had been a joke in our family up til now that it was impossible to "fill" Dane up on shrimp. It was nice to see it actually happen.

I told Don about his son yesterday after he got home from his trip.

"What did the waitress say?" he asked.

Nothing, I told him. But when she saw Deanna pull out her book, I'm quite certain she knew we were there for the long haul.

A Whole Country Snowed

It's going to be a very different country a year from now. What a SAD commentary on our freedom.



Don's winging his way to Colorado right now. The memorial service for his uncle is tomorrow. He'll be staying with his sister and brother-in-law and I'm thankful he'll get some time with them.

Dane is going to have sinus surgery next week. This week we'll focus on getting tests and being pre-certified.

If only . . .

Found this announcement on my niece's Facebook this morning after returning from voting.

Alicia DUE TO THE EXPECTATION OF HIGH VOTER TURNOUT - REPUBLICANS ARE ASKED TO VOTE ON TUESDAY, NOV. 4 AND DEMOCRATS ARE ASKED TO VOTE ON WEDNESDAY, NOV. 5.

Love it. From my computer to God's ears.

Heavy Heart

I'm just too tired tonight to do very much writing. But I wanted to Post, since my heart is heavy.

Don got a call yesterday afternoon from his mother. His uncle, my mother-in-law's younger brother, died of cancer yesterday morning. It was very sudden and we certainly weren't prepared.

Her other brother, Ron, was with Tom when he died. The funeral will be Thursday in a little town outside of Denver called Windsor, CO.

I also had to make a call to the ENT today about Dane. We agreed when he saw Dane last week that we would touch base today about his tests and his condition. The short version is that Dane has an appointment tomorrow for us to talk about surgery. He has worsened on antibiotics and we just can't continue to pump heavy-duty antibiotics into Dane with no response.

I should know more about both these situations tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to go to bed.

Woe is Me - and them

So the answer is . . . yep! Luke was Greek. However, Dane is coughing badly and his asthma has really kicked in and Daelyn woke up at 2 a.m. with croup. I'm just not sure if Cornelius or Luke are well enough to attend the fun tonight.

My parents usually come along to help me with the children and props. But they're in Italy and Don is working, so it's just me and 2 out of 3 sick children.

Perhaps I should take the dog to refocus my attention . . . just kidding!

Costumes

We celebrate All Saint's Eve instead of Halloween. Our neighborhood has a huge block party and all the children dress as a Saint or Biblical character. They each get a chance to go up on a stage and announce in the microphone who they are. Many years, there are tons of the same Saints. We always try to do something a little bit different.

One year, Dane was Noah. We dressed him like Noah, then built an ark out of cardboard which hung off his shoulders with rope. Daelyn was dressed in a lion costume and was one of the animals from the ark (he was still a toddler) and Deanna was the rainbow, which was also made out of cardboard and hung off her with ropes and handles on the back. We decorated her face with cotton balls to look like a fluffy cloud above the rainbow. The whole costume looked great.

Another year, we went as the Pevensey children from the Chronicles of Narnia. Don was Peter the Great, Dane was Edmund, Deanna was Lucy, I was Susan and Daelyn was Aslan (there's that lion costume we bought from Land's End again). We had our gifts that Father Christmas gave us and lots of royal robes and jewels. I thought we did a wonderful job of looking the part.

I really like these family-themed ideas. One year, Daelyn went as Moses, Deanna was Miriam, and I think Dane was the burning bush. We dressed Dane in orange, red, and yellow and stuck twigs of green leaves in him. He really did look like a bush on fire. My mother made Ten Commandment tablets for Daelyn and they looked amazing. She used styrofoam and spray-painted them gray, then wrote what looks like Hebrew on them. The only problem was that it was a little much for Daelyn to carry - two tablets and his all-important staff.

So I've been trying to come up with an idea for this year. Back in September, my mother and I were at the dollar store looking for paper products for my father's 80th birthday party and they were just putting out soldier costumes. I pick out matching pieces for Daelyn, thinking to myself that he could go as Cornelius, the Roman soldier who converted to Christ. We were all satisfied with that idea, but didn't know what to do about Deanna or Dane. Then I had another idea. What if all the children went as non-Jews that believed. I just had to come up with a female and another male who would be interesting. I thought of Rahab, the Jericho woman who hid Joshua's spies. Deanna thought that would work quite well. What about Dane?

I asked Don a couple of nights ago what he thought.

"What about Paul," he asked. Paul? Paul, the Saduccee? There were few Jews in Israel who were more committed to the faith that Paul - he just had the wrong faith.

"Honey, Paul WAS a Jew," I responded.

"Oh, right. Well, how about Luke?"

Wow! What a great idea. Luke, the physician, the healer. He was devoted to Christ and a follower, and I don't think he was a Jew. I'll have to look it up to be sure, but we may have hit paydirt.

Here's hoping.

Deep Sigh

I was feeling a little discouraged this morning. There's so much work that needs to be done in the house. Don left a tent out, the one that leaked the weekend we went camping, for me to seam-seal. Unfortunately, he forgot to tell me that was the reason he left it hanging from the cabinets in the kitchen. So we've been tromping over it for the last two weeks.

And my parents left for Italy yesterday so, instead of spending Tuesday and Wednesday helping them with their errand, I ran them on Monday, my laundry day. And you can tell. There're still piles of laundry in the hallway and a mess in the laundry room.

Those are just a few of the issues. Anyway, while I was picking up and sorting hangers this morning, I spent some time talking with the Lord. As always, he encouraged me, not at the level of knowledge, but in my spirit. One of the things that He assured me of was His love for me and the fact that He will always bless the work of my hands when I lay it before Him.

I'm layin', Lord, as best I can. Oh, and by the way, thanks for the encouragement!

Laughter - Hurts and Helps

Sunday morning, during church, I leaned over to Deanna who was sitting next to me and whispered in her ear,

"Itty-bitty man!"

She began to laugh. Then she responded with, "Buzz Lightyear!" That tickled me and I started to giggle.

Before long, the hilarity of the whole situation had completely taken over and we were laughing so hard, we were crying. In an effort to keep it under wraps, I glanced away from her, but just then, I heard Dane ask, "What are you two laughing about?"

Deanna responded with peals of barely-controlled laughter and gasped, "The guy in the cockpit!"

Dane started to smile and, soon after, began to laugh, as well. Within seconds, the two older children and I realized we wouldn't be able to stop if we didn't quickly get this under control. Again, I turned my head away from Deanna, only to realize after-the-fact that I had turned towards the woman in our congregation who wears a band-aid type thing on top of her hair. Deanna, thinking I was looking at something specific, turned that direction also, saw the woman, and burst out again. She leaned closer and whispered, "The 'solar panel'!"

I thought I was going to die of lack of oxygen. I couldn't get my breath. I was trying desperately to think of something sobering when I glanced towards the choir. The young girl who helps me with the Cherub Choir and whose younger sister is a close friend of Deanna's was watching our shenanigans and mouthed to me, "What?" For some reason, this also seemed funny. I thought I might have to leave the Service.

By this point, we were laughing so much, in a vague attempt at doing it silently, that I felt we were in danger of disrupting the Sermon. I whispered loudly to the children, "Pinch yourselves. Pinch yourselves," a technique I used when I was on the Debate Team in High School at those times when things just seemed funny out of proportion and I couldn't stop giggling. Somehow, the pain inflicted on oneself with a pinch has a way of refocusing your attention.

We made it through and all seemed to be able to get ourselves pulled together, but I realized this was one of those moments that define us as a family. We have fun together. We have so many inside jokes that no one else would understand that people think we're a little crazy. And they'd be right. But, gosh, do we have fun together.

I hope I always have the kind of relationship with my children that can result in humor so outlandish you have to fight for control and aren't quite sure at the moment if you'll succeed. I think moments like those will be remembered far longer than the cross words we had yesterday morning or the anger in my tone while giving correction. Fun is so much more memorable.

That "I'm So Satisfied" Feeling

Don and I went to a Bed and Breakfast in McCormick, SC last night. We had dinner in a Pub in the basement of the B&B. It was wonderful. I really feel like we were able to reconnect.

Ah-h-h-h! Fall and a wonderful husband, to boot! Can life get better?

The Camping Trip

I haven't said too much yet about the camping last weekend. The Boy and Cub Scouts (starting at the 4th grade level, I think, which is Webelos) from the whole CSRA (Central Savannah River Area) are invited to camp at the private airport in town for the weekend. One runway is barricaded off and there's a small grassy area running along an access road (and another grassy area between the access road and the runway) parallel to the runway where tents can be set up two deep, if the tents are small. Most troops try to arrive together and set up camp together in one area, including a cook area. It's incredible to walk down the access road and see all the different tents - round ones, oblong ones, square ones, every shape and color, every size and brand. We even saw a Swiss brand one that I had looked at online and considered buying that has three separate rooms. The middle section is huge and can be used for a living room while there are two smaller rooms off each side with a divider separating them for sleeping areas. Stick the kid on one side, Mom and Dad on the other end, and have a card table and chairs in the middle - a great way to camp in rain.

I mention rain because RAIN, IT DID! Don and I had planned on arriving early Friday afternoon to set up our camp. We were taking two large tents, one for most of our family and the other for Dane and a friend's son that was going with us. We figured the second tent, which sleeps 4-5 men, was large enough for some of Dane's classmates to join him, also, making it a lot more fun for him. We made arrangements with another Dad, whose wife is a close friend of mine and whose daughter babysits for us, to share their camp stove in exchange for me making dinner for him and his crowd Saturday night. I cooked two pork roasts in the crockpot and made a huge batch of barbecue, which seemed pretty elementary school boy-friendly. We were also taking our 10' X 10' stand-alone awning and lots of camp chairs and were encouraged by a former Boy Scout Leader (of 20 years) to get there early because of the size of our tents. Don and I had planned on leaving around 1:00, but it was after 2 before we finally got underway.

Almost no one was there when we arrived. We chose a nice spot near where our Boy Scout Troup had set up last year, and unloaded. I helped Don raise the canopy and we got started on the first tent, then I had to take off to get the kids from school. They had laid out their clothes for Friday in advance and packed their bags, so all they had to do was change, and we could head back. Deanna had a slumber party Friday night and I had made arrangements for her to go to a friend's house after school and to have dinner with them, then to go to the party with that friend. I was picking her up at 10 the next morning.

When we got back to the camp, Don had both tents up and the camp pretty-well set up, other than some minor rearranging to make things a little more convenient for me. When we had arrived, it was beginning to sprinkle. By the time I returned with the boys, it was downright pouring. Don had gotten the tents erected and the rainfly's over them just in time.

It poured ALL NIGHT. Our family tent held pretty well, but there were a few drops of water that accumulated in the ceiling and fell inside just because of the volume. The other tent, however, didn't fair as well. When we first bought our family tent, our friend, Ken (camper extraordinaire), helped me seal the seams, which I had never done before, and helped me provide a little water-proofing. He was concerned that it was a cheap tent and "you get what you pay for". It was an Ozark Trail, which I find to be a pretty good camping brand, though newer than Coleman or Titan. That night, after sealing our seams, it rained pretty hard, and our tent held fast. Ken was suitably impressed and changed his opinion about the brand. Once again, this last weekend, our tent stood up to the rain challenge. But our older tent, the one we bought when we only had 2 children and was never seam-sealed, leaked through every floor seam. There were puddles of water around the entire periphery of the interior. Don went home for something and I had him bring back extra towels, which we laid around to sop up the water.

Suffice it to say, by the end of the weekend, everything in that tent was pretty well soaked. The children played in the rain, pretty oblivious, until they started getting cold. Dane had taken his three bug jars (spaghetti sauce jars that I saved for him) and he and his brother and all their friends spent the evening catching crickets. They also found a toad, which they practically mutilated by taking turns holding him. Saturday morning, I was walking by the awning. Dane and several friends were sitting in the camp chairs. I heard Dane say, "Watch this. He can play dead!" and when I glanced his direction, he was holding the toad upside down in his palm, the white of his belly showing and his legs flopped out to the sides.

I snorted. That poor toad is praying, "Please, God, let them think I'm dead and bury me. Put me out of my misery." He was force-fed crickets, he was dumped into a water puddle and, when he jumped out time and again, put back in the middle, he was held, squeezed, talked to, then dumped back into a jar for the night. I talked them into letting him go Saturday night. The poor guy barely had the energy to hop away. They weren't mean to him, they just wanted to "hold" him, as boys are inclined to do.

Saturday night was clear and cold. I had packed numerous layers for my children to wear to bed, including knit caps and gloves. We had also used air mattresses for everyone to get them up off the cold floor. On Saturday night, we had the only shelter. The Boy Scout's awning had collapsed from the wind the previous night and another friend's screen house had blown away. Ours was the only one remaining, so almost all the Dads and Grandpas gathered at our camp. Another friend had a long table and we played cards. I made coffee on the cook stove. It was way fun. Then we all made our way to the Cracker Barrel. Lest you think we broke camp for a restaurant and store, the Cracker Barrel in scouting is a gathering, like a Jamboree, or at least that's what they call it at this campout. Each Troop put on a skit, providing entertainment for the night. Scout Leaders had filled out tickets with the names of their scouts on them and the tickets were put into a drawing. Tons of names were drawn between skits. The adults also had tickets for a different drawing and several of the leaders won prizes. Probably 1/4 to 1/3 of the boys won door prizes. Dane was one of them. He won an awesome tent. Truth is, we're not sure it was him. They announced the Troop Number, then stumbled over the last name. Before he had a chance to announce the first name (which, truth be told, was probably Daelyn, since his name is much more difficult to figure out), Dane jumped up and claimed the prize. Dane, Daelyn and Deanna's names were all put in the drawing, so it could have been any one of them. We decided it didn't really matter much. Deanna wouldn't want a tent of her own (I don't think) and Dane and Daelyn will share this one, so it all worked out. Sunday afternoon, the boys put it up in the backyard by themselves. Dane is really learning to be a Scout. On Monday after school, he and I worked on sealing the seams and spraying Camp Dry on the rain fly and sides to waterproof it. It had to dry for 24 hours, but it's all packed away now.

Since this is turning into a VERY long post, I'll close by saying that we had a wonderful time. Deanna was a little unsure about camping out there with all the boys, but our family usually goes camping one weekend in October and this was the only chance we would have this year, so we decided to use this opportunity for our family campout. When she and I got back after her slumber party and showers at home on Saturday, she was sitting in a camp chair under the awning. Various boys would stop by to visit, the dads were all sitting around drinking coffee and visiting. Deanna observed for about 45 minutes, then said, "Mama, this is TOO COOL. Can we do this again next year?"

I'd love to do it again, but I hope more Moms bite the bullet and join us. It really was a fun family activity.

Product Recommendation

Try as I might, I can't find a Post I wrote sometime after returning from England about coffee pots. Specifically, cordless electric coffee pots.

That's all you seem to be able to get in England. My first week in our house in Culcheth, I decided to throw some coffee grinds right in the kettle and cook some REAL coffee (I had taken flavored coffee grinds with me from home). The grinds boiled over out of the kettle and you've never seen such a horrible mess. I tried repeatedly to find a drip coffee pot, but they just didn't seem to sell them in England, at least not in the stores where I looked.

So I finally bit the bullet and bought . . . instant coffee. I haven't drunk instant coffee since I was in high school. Turns out, the instant coffee in England is wonderful - rich, thick, dark, and luscious. I finally understood why they don't mess with ground coffee.

Anyway, I got real attached to my cordless, electric tea kettle (or coffee pot). The amazing thing about it was that if you turned it on and forgot about it, you wouldn't boil all the water out and burn up your pot (like I've done numerous times at home when boiling water for tea or coffee). It shuts off automatically once it boils. But the kettle is insulated and keeps the water warm for a long time after shutting off. And, if you reflip the switch, it only takes seconds to reheat. Frankly, I was amazed at how quickly it could heat up. There's an element in the bottom of the kettle that brings that water to a boil REALLY fast.

And the cordless electric thing. I didn't quite get that when we first outfitted our house (our stuff was bought for us by a secretary in Don's office), but the kettle sits on a base which has the electrical connections and cord. If you lift the kettle, it comes up off the base and can easily be moved around, carried to the table for a warm-up, etc. without worrying about dragging a cord behind you or unplugging.

We hadn't been home very long when I decided I HAD to have one of those. I asked for a gift card to Amazon for my birthday and my sister-in-law sent me one that was perfect for a very nice cordless, electric. Once it arrived, the issue became trying to find an instant coffee in the U.S. that was decent, yet decaf.

I tried several (a total waste of money - bitter or had an aftertaste) before I found Taster's Choice. It was a good bit more expensive, but tasted like the great instant in England. I've been drinking it ever since.

And it's not a big deal to make a cup. You don't have to clean old grinds out, put in filters, measure . . . , and there's no waste. You know that last little bit left in the drip coffee decanter that usually gets tossed out - that doesn't happen when you make coffee a cup at a time.

I've been using it now for a year and a half and it's nottin' but good. I love making a cup of tea in the evenings before bed and my one cup in the morning to help me wake up. No waste, no want. Just a great cup of perfect coffee, without the hassle.

So, I highly recommend cordless, electric tea kettles. Amazon carries quite a few or you can pop over to England and pick one up.

Take me along, please?!?

Drugged

Deanna had a surgical procedure this morning - gastroendoscopy, so she's groggy and I don't expect to have a lot of free time. She's kind of needy right now.

They saw some redness in her esophagus (typical with GERD) and some red splotches on the wall of her stomach, which could be a bacteria that causes ulcers. They took biopsies and should have the results Monday or Tuesday.

But, mostly, everything looked fine. It was just a routine test. They need to do these every couple of years when people take the stomach meds Deanna's on, just to be safe.

Here she comes now, walking down the hall, hanging onto the walls. I better go and take care of my little girl.

Chalk Up Another to Humor

Dane is studying the Far East in History and Geography. Yesterday, after school, he was looking over his work in preparation for a test later this week. I heard him rattling off facts about China and the Philipines.

"Thailand . . ." I heard him say. Then, ". . . was part of China . . . Mom, did the Chinese want us to give them back King Kong?"

"King Kong belongs to the Japanese. I believe you mean Hong Kong, son."

"Oh, yeah. That's what I meant."

I looked across the table at Deanna. She had a smile on her face and was trying to keep from laughing. However, truth be told, she's just as bad.

Like this weekend. We were at the Air Show and had been watching different types of aircraft pass in front of us for a couple of hours. Then the M.C. announced the next act. It was an 11-yr. old boy who had built his own Radio Controlled plane and holds the world title in R.C. Aerobatics (aerobatics was a new term for me, but was used very widely at the Air Show; apparently, they have their own vernacular which was unfamiliar to me). He was demonstrating all kinds of flips and turns and flying his plane in front of the fans, the same as the real aircraft. I suppose this was supposed to be impressive but, truthfully, the real planes were so amazingly impressive that a radio-controlled one didn't quite compare in my eyes.

I was a little bored and began looking around the crowd. I turned to my right and saw Deanna, camera poised in mid-air, waiting for the perfect shot.

"What ya doin', honey?" I asked.

"I'm all ready, Mom. As soon as the plane flies closer, I'm going to get a picture of the guy in the cockpit!"



As funny as that was, I kind of understood. Lots of the other planes looked the same size as this one as they flew in the distance. There wasn't REALLY any noticeable difference in size. And, if you didn't quite understand the concept of radio controlled (or remote controlled), I can see how you could get confused.

Of course, I got a lot of mileage with that. I kidded Deanna about the little, bitty man who flew in the cockpit. Later, as we were walking back to Camp, an SUV passed us carrying the R.C. plane. It's nose was sandwiched between the two front seats.

"There goes your plane, honey," I told Deanna. "And the little man was sitting on the dashboard."

"MOM!" she yelled at me.

While studying after school with the children yesterday (during the King Kong Hour), I quoted a line from "Toy Story" to Dane. The boy in the movie who owns all the toys gets a Buzz Lightyear of Star Command toy for his birthday to add to his collection in his room. His favorite toy, Woody (a cowboy) is trying to convince the newest addition, Buzz, that's he's a toy. Buzz believes he's a real spaceman and he's landed on an alien planet. Woody explains over and over again and finally, in exasperation, yells,

"You're not REAL. You're a child's play thing." (Or something to that effect - the kids would know the exact line, of course.)

Buzz responds with, "You're a sad, silly little man."

So, after explaining King Kong to my son, I added, " 'You're a sad, silly little man.' " Then, my mind immediately moved to Deanna's predicament with the plane.

"Hey, Deanna," I kidded, "maybe Buzz Lightyear could fly your Radio Controlled plane for you!"

"Mom," she looked at me over the top of her glasses - her most serious look, "Buzz Lightyear is a real human."

As she watched my face contort, gleefully imagining all the mileage I could get from this newest faux pas, she hung her head.

"I did it again, didn't I?" she asked.

Yes, Virginia, there really is a Santa Claus.

Interestingly, later she told me that she had told a friend at school about the incident with the plane. She explained that she knew there was someone on the ground controlling the plane but she also thought there was a pilot who could override the R.C. controls in an emergency. Her friend admitted that she had thought the same exact thing last year when she attended the Air Show.

My question is this - what are they teaching our kids in school?

Ah-h-h-h

Oh, me! What a wonderful but totally exhausting (and wet) weekend.

We went camping with the Boy/Cub Scouts to an air show in town. This was a first for me - no running water, no power, no fires, and I was the only woman camping.

But we had such a wonderful time. And Dane won a 2- to 3-man tent as a door prize. He set it up by himself when we got home this afternoon. It was cool to see my 9-yr. old setting up his own tent, by himself. The next generation of campers.

I'll write more tomorrow but, for tonight, I'm absolutely worn out and have much unpacking and lunch-making still to do.

Pageantry

I met with our Choir Director this morning to talk about the Children's Christmas Pageant. Oh, my goodness. So many things to consider.

He wanted to meet to bounce ideas off someone else and, since I'm directing the Cherub Choir this year, he thought it should be me.

We looked over several canned Programs. While they all have strengths and weaknesses, none seemed right for our Choir. We are running consistently about 30 children at choir practice, 10 of them being 4, 5, and 6 year olds.

Parents want a Pageant to last longer than 5 minutes. But the little kids can't handle much more than 5 minutes. And we only have 4 middle-schoolers. Everything is either too hard or too simple.

Then we have the scenery issue. If we set the Play in Bethlehem, we have scenery already. Any other setting, and new scenery must be made, including a backdrop. And when will we have time to do that?

Speaking of time, we're working now on All Saint's Day music and really won't be able to get into the throws of Christmas until after All Saint's, which leaves only 5 weeks of practice. Anything too difficult won't allow for enough practice time, unless . . .

We can use a accompaniment CD. Then we can give copies of the CD out to all the children so they can practice the music at home, tripling the impact of our practice times. However, if you use the CD, then you HAVE to use a canned program, and we're right back where we started.

I had no idea this would be so difficult. David, our Choir Director, played an amazingly catchy piece for me that he wrote last night (he's VERY talented and we're lucky to have him at our church). If we could somehow build our own Musical around his pieces, we may be in luck. But then we don't have the practice CD's - unless he tapes him playing the pieces.

Ultimately, it all falls solidly on HIS shoulders. I felt a little sad for him. He has a lot of work if we go that direction. Truthfully, he has a lot of work if we go ANY direction.

I think we have a start of something big, though. And I can't wait to see the finished product.

Package This

Don and I have been asked to Chair the Silent Auction for our children's school's annual fundraiser again this year. The first thing I did was put together a Plan of Action and a Timetable. One of the things I wanted to add this year was a High-End Solicitation Team, a small group of dynamic, excited, energetic people that are willing to dream big and ASK.

For example, wouldn't it be awesome if we could get roundtrip tickets to New York from Augusta, a hotel room for 4 nights at Niagara Falls, a rental car, free attraction tickets for the Maiden of the Mist, etc., and a gift card for gas to put together in one big package? Or what about 2 tickets to the local Ballet, two night's stay in one of the nicer hotels in town, a gift certificate for dinner at one of the more expensive restaurants and a limo for the evening - worth bidding on?

Anyway, that's my dream. We have until the beginning of December to pull this together. We're starting so late this year, though, that I was beginning to think some of these wonderful packages I'd love to put together may only be a pipe dream.

Then . . . one of the Moms told me that she's pushing Sherwin-Williams to donate a whole room re-do. They donated 3 gallons of their best paint - two gallons for walls, one for trim. She (who is a decorator-extraordinaire) is including one hour of her time as a Consultant. It occurred to me that if we could get some other donations along these lines and put them together, we might be able to offer a rather pricey room redecoration with everything included. I spoke with one of my Team Members about my thoughts and she made a suggestion. I jumped in my car and returned with a $50 gift certificate to a wallpaper store to go with the paint and Consult. Now I'm beginning to feel like I'm on a roll. If we can get Home Depot to donate rollers, roller pans, spackling, tape, drop cloths, sandpaper, etc. and someone else to donate flooring and/or window treatments, we may be able to pull off a very nice package deal.

I'm willing to ask. And so are several other people who make up my Team.

And God loves this fundraiser. We find HE always supports it, even when others may not.

We're still bouncing around those ideas and looking for high-end donations that will bring in the big bucks and the people who can afford the big bucks. The sky's the limit. And that's where I'm currently writing from.

Pretty Quiet Back There

Deanna was moved in one of her classrooms to the back. Most teachers move the students around at the beginning of each report card period. Unfortunately, since Deanna's quiet, she got sent to the back of the room. There was only one other child put in the back - a boy who was out sick for one week, then at the wedding of his uncle in another state for one week. She was all alone.

I asked her how things were going about a week into the new seating assignment.

"Quiet," she responded. I'll just bet. No one around her, no talking between friends over top of her head. Just her, by herself, in the back of the room.

The boy who was assigned next to her returned to school last week. About the middle of the week, I asked Deanna how things were going. He, also, is a quiet student which is probably why the teacher assigned him to the rear of the classroom as well as Deanna.

"Well," she began, "he always does everything so-and-so (the name has been withheld to protect the innocent) says. Today, she told him to do something and he immediately did it. So I called him a 'so-and-so (insert girl's name) droid'!"

My eyes bugged out of my head.

"YOU DID WHAT?" I shouted. "What did he say?"

"He hung his head for a few minutes and then said, 'Am I really a 'so-and-so droid'? I said, 'Yes, you are. You do everything she says.'"

"What happened," I asked, a little breathless.

"He didn't talk for the rest of the day."

Poor child. He's quiet, anyway, and that obviously shook him up.

Several days later, I asked Deanna again about the boy.

"He hasn't spoken since then," she said.

Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. The only hope of Deanna having someone with which she could chat, and she alienated him - rather swiftly.

I don't know who I should feel sorrier for - Deanna or the boy.

Aging

My father turns 80 tomorrow. We're having a celebration for him, of course, and he's invited almost everyone he knows. It'll be loads of fun, I'm sure. He said what he really wanted for his birthday was for his friends to drop by and visit with him. That was his only wish.

It's hard to believe my father is 80 years old. But then, again, it's even harder to believe that all my siblings are over 50!

I guess we've aged right along with him - like a fine wine or a great cheese, but not the stinky kind.

Worshipping the Porcelain

My sweet girl was sick on her birthday. Around 10:30 Tuesday night, she appeared in the kitchen.

"Mama, I can't sleep. My stomach hurts too bad. I feel like I'm going to throw up."

Sure enough, she did, several times throughout the night. Around 11:30, she was sitting at the kitchen table, a bucket held to her mouth, and she began to cry.

"It's my birthday and it's going to be terrible. I'm sick on my birthday. I won't be able to go to Olive Garden for dinner. I won't be able to play Volleyball. And I'll miss my spelling test." She absolutely wailed.

"I'm not sure missing your spelling test is anything to cry about!" I pointed out.

She sniffed a little and then a smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. She got the point. It was bad, but lots of kids would be WILLING to be sick to stay home on their birthdays. Then she began to reminisce about some of MY birthdays with a houseful of sickies and began to laugh.

"Okay, Mom, I guess it's not as bad as some of your birthdays have been," she admitted.

I stayed up with her until about 12:30 a.m., but finally collapsed in my bed, taking her with me. Around 2 a.m., she yelled for me to move. I handed her a bucket and quickly pulled the covers back, turned, and sat up. She ran for the bathroom.

I remember sometime later, I have no idea how much later, but it seemed like a long time, calling out to her.

"Deanna, are you okay, honey? Seems like you've been in there a long time."

She responded, then I heard her moving around.

"I'm going to my bed, Mommy," she called to me. The bathroom lights went out and I heard her footsteps disappear down the hall.

Around 6:30, I awoke, feeling nauseated. I drug myself out of bed around 7:15 to get the boys moving and cautioned them not to wake Deanna. I finished up lunches, made breakfast, went over spelling words, scriptures, signed Field Trip Permission Slips, and kept the boys on task. Then I quickly changed into a shirt over my pj bottoms and dropped them at school before heading back to bed.

Around 10, I called Don at work and left this message on his answering machine.

"Honey, I just wanted you to know that Deanna's home sick. She was throwing up all night. And now I've got it. I feel terrible and won't be going out today. I just wanted to hear your voice. It always cheers me up."

Then I dozed again until the phone woke me at 10:30. When I had gotten up earlier to check on Deanna and station her in the Den with episodes of Dr. Who (like her brother before her), I had taken it back to bed with me. I glanced at the Caller I.D. "Don at work". YAY!

"Hi, hon!" I tried to sound perky, although there was very little perky in me.

"Well, I've got it, too," I heard a dreary voice say. "I'm trying to leave work now to come home."

And that's how we spent Deanna's birthday - her in the Den, laying down and watching Dr. Who, me in the bed dozing on and off but, mostly, on, and Don in the recliner in the living room alternating between chills and hot flashes.

The day put me significantly behind on all the things that had to be done by today, so I was up until 1:30 this morning finishing cheeseballs and paperwork. But I think I'm caught up - for now.

Deanna went back to school yesterday. She played in her final volleyball game of the season yesterday afternoon. Her friends all were sad that she had been sick on her birthday and seemed happy she had rebounded in one day. Her friend is still coming to spend the night tonight.

During one of my "check on Deanna" sessions Wednesday, she told me that she had fallen asleep in the bathroom after that 2 a.m. call.

"I hugged the toilet, put my head down on the seat, and fell fast asleep, Mama." Now that's sad. But, thank goodness, I had just cleaned the toilet.

Hang onto the little things!

Deanna

Tomorrow's Deanna's 12th birthday. It's so hard to believe she's that old. In so many ways, she's still my little baby girl.

I love that she still likes to snuggle with me - not all the time, just occasionally. But she DOES snuggle. And she has a great sense of humor. Last Friday, when she was home sick with a stomach bug, she felt terrible, so I had her go lie down in my bed and I went and laid down with her. I got to telling her funny stories and got her laughing. Don walked by and decided she couldn't be very sick as perky as she seemed.

Deanna's always been fun. She's a joy to have around. From the moment she was born, she's kept me entertained. If I'm going shopping or out to run errands, I always try and talk her into going with me because she's such great company. She's a quiet, sensitive, loving child. She really sees things, things past the surface. She's intuitive and pays attention to the little things. She's a very gifted person. She's creative and enjoys crafts and loves making jewelry.

I don't believe I've ever known a kinder heart except, perhaps, her father's. Even when she's deeply hurt, she looks past her own pain and is worried about others.

She's still a little girl in many ways. She likes simple things. She still sleeps with her doll that her Aunt Sue gave her for her 4th birthday (Rose Petal). She loves that doll. And she also sleeps with a pillow-buddy, Puddle Juice, that I gave her on her Pediatricians recommendation to help her when I weaned her. He recommended getting something that she could snuggle when she wanted to nurse. Puddle Juice was her choice and she dearly loves him. He's gotten pretty torn up over the years (she drags him to every slumber party, out in the woods when we go camping, etc.) but we've patched him and Grandma's sewn him up, and he just keep hanging on.

When we re-did our house five years ago, Deanna wanted her room done in a horse motif. I chose some fabric, blue and grey fleece, with horses for her comforter and a blue daisy print for a dust ruffle. I chose a coordinating fabric for the back side of her comforter and her window treatments. I painted a border around her room of horses rearing back, just above the chairrail, and we decorated with plastic and wooden horses and horseshoes. Over the last two years or so, I've asked her several times if she wouldn't like a more adult-looking room, if she'd like me to re-do it. She always says no. She says she loves it just the way it is. I always find that a little surprising and expect her to want something a little "older", but no. She likes it just the way it is.

She's simple and sweet and I can't even imagine life without her. She's smart and funny and I can't imagine life without her. She's kind and deeply intelligent and I can't imagine life without her. She brings joy into our home and keeps her brothers occupied and I can't imagine life without her.

Deanna always wanted a baby sister, but we got Daelyn, instead. Deanna has always been sad that God didn't give her a sister. I've tried to explain to her that our relationship wouldn't be as special if I had another daughter, but that doesn't really matter to her. She wanted a little girl to love and nurture and share girly things with. I try to make up for that by being attentive to her and making sure she gets lots of girl-time with me.

But she's one of the great joys of my life. I pray I will always be close to her, my only daughter.

Happy Birthday, my baby girl. I love you.

Mama

Patti . . . who?

Many years ago, some dear friends of mine introduced me to a British Sci-Fi show called "Dr. Who". They used to watch it every Friday night and invited me to join them. Back then, it was a low-budget, cheesy, c-show with a cult following. I fell in love with The Doctor, too, but life moves through seasons and that season became a thing of the past.

When we were in England for those 3 months, I rediscovered Dr Who, along with Don and my children. Many things have changed since the old days. The actors are now pretty good, the scenery is authentic, you can no longer see strings on the monsters, and The Doctor has been through several re-generations. The show's popularity has gone global.

Once we returned home, the whole family hooked, we were able to watch several episodes on my parent's cable. Don has asked for complete seasons as gifts and his parents sent him the entire DVD set of the Second Series for his birthday in September. Apparently, the second series is the second year that David Tennant starred as The Doctor. While in England, we saw the episode where Chris Ecleston regenerated into David Tennant, so this series picks up right where we left off.

The children have been watching episodes. It's so much fun. There's footage from London and the kids recognize tons of stuff.

In several of the episodes, there is a woman who is the Prime Minister. She's quite humble and introduces herself to EVERYONE. She holds up her I.D. badge and says, "Harriet Jones, Prime Minister." In the episode Daelyn is watching right now, she shows her badge to several different members of her staff. In every instance, they respond, "I know who you are."

Something about that little exchange strikes me. How many of us are so puffed up by our own self-importance that we assume everyone knows our names? Here is the Prime Minister, a woman everyone really DOES know, and she introduces herself.

I know it's a silly thing and something that wouldn't cause pause in most people, but definitely worth thinking about. Would I was humble enough to feel the need to always identify myself.

"Hello. Nice to meet you. My name is Patti Doughty, daughter of the King."

Wedding Blessings

We went to a wedding tonight. My niece, Amanda, was the Maid of Honor. Her boyfriend, Alex, was a groomsman. The bride is a close friend of Amanda's, the groom a close friend of Alex's. Amanda and Alex introduced them and, after Amanda's accident, they began dating.

The bride also was our Pediatrician's nurse for many years, so we got invited to the wedding. We were very happy that these two "found" each other and that we could be there to witness the beginning of a new, happier life together for them.

At the reception, which was lovely but very small, Deanna looked around at the meager crowd of about 55.

"When I get married," she whispered to me, "I want a BIG wedding!"

I snickered. No choice there. As a matter of fact, I'm so used to weddings with 10 attendants on each side and hundreds of guests that this small, unassuming crowd was a little odd for me, as well.

On the way home (the wedding was in a neighboring town about an hour's drive away), my mother was commenting on the small crowd.

"I'm used to weddings where you invite ALL your friends and family," she said.

"Mom," I explained, "I think that WAS all their friends and family."

She looked shocked. We've lived in the same place for so many years and have so many dear friends that it's hard to imagine life with only a few friends. Just my family alone would probably be more people than attended this entire wedding.

Thinking back about those conversations and the small group that gathered to dance, toast, and celebrate, I found myself wondering how we always manage to pull off huge wedding receptions. Don and I expected 300 people at our wedding (the capacity at the church where we held it) and there were many people standing in the aisles and back of the church. We fed all our guests a full meal and didn't hire a caterer. We had friends that helped cook and other friends that helped serve, decorate, etc. All I did was ask for help and provide the menu and money to purchase the groceries.

I'm quite sure Deanna's wedding will be an Event, as was ours and as are most of the weddings we attended. It's not that the measure of a marriage OR the assessment of a nice wedding is how many people attend. But, somehow, it just seems more joyous with large crowds. As I was walking down the aisle, I was struck by the fact that ALL those people had shown up just to see Don and I commit ourselves to each other and to celebrate a love long-sought and finally achieved. I was overcome and zig-zagged down the aisle, greeting people on both sides. I realized, after the fact, how strange that was, but I was overcome with the faces I saw, standing there, watching me process up the aisle, and realizing that all those people had come just for me and Don. What a blessing!

Tonight, I'll pray for Kellie and Bobo ( a nickname - his real name's Jerry) that their marriage will reflect all the joy that would have been represented by a group of 500 gathered in that little church. They both have struggled to find the "right" one and it seems they finally succeeded. And that's no small task.

The really important thing, I think, is not how many people were there, but that THEY were there, and God was there. After all, that's all it really takes for a good marriage.

Fly That Flag!

I was driving last week with Deanna when we passed the Checkers across a side street from her school.

"There's the flag that we pledge," she said.

"What? What are you talking about?" I asked.

Turns out, there is no flag in her homeroom so the girls (all the middle school girls have the same homeroom) stand and pledge to the flag across the street above the Checkers' restaurant.

I was shocked and determined to do something about it.

After a couple of phone calls today, I was able to call Deanna who was spending the night with a friend and give her the following news.

Saxby Chambliss, a Senator from Georgia, will be purchasing a 3' X 5' flag for her classroom and will fly it over the Capitol, in honor of Mrs. Finnegan's 6th Grade Homeroom. Then the flag will be mailed to the school along with a certificate from the Senator's office explaining the honor.

In these uncertain times, I think those teenage girls need to know that someone in Washington, DC is concerned about their well-being.

And, hopefully, they'll feel a sense of pride every morning when they stand, turn towards their special flag, and pledge to it and our country.

I love it when Government does SOMETHING good!