Lauren tagged me for this one. Hmmmm......six weird things.....okay, here goes:
1. I have absolutely no sense of direction. But then you already knew that, if you have been reading my blogs.
2. I like to sleep in a very dark, very cold room, with two quilts, and all-cotton sheets (percale, because they are so soft and smooth).
3. I don't even notice when Frankie (our pomeranian) licks me--which drives Jeana insane with horror.
4. I don't really like to shop.
5. I hate to sweat. That's why I hate to exercise.
6. I read obsessively. Labels. Instructions. The backs of cereal boxes.
Who's next to admit to 6 weird things? Geekwif? Kelsey? Jenna? Jenny? Diane? Mary?
Monday, April 17, 2006
Ten Simple Pleasures
Carol tagged me for this, and after reading hers, I had to think a while, since I didn't want to duplicate hers. (Carol, I too love pedicures--feels so luxurious!)
1. Getting to sleep late on Saturdays.
2. Having a husband who makes coffee *and* breakfast before waking me up.
3. Having time for a third cup of coffee before we leave for work.
4. Having grandbabies who still sit in my lap, even the ones who are taller than me.
5. Early morning talk while drinking coffee with Jeana's Scott, while she gets to sleep late after staying up until 4:30 Sat. morning with her brother, working on her new blog site.
6. Sitting on the dock watching Wick fish, and applauding when he catches one.
7. Six adult children who talk to me as friends as well as family.
8. Getting to be with my husband virtually 24 hours a day, driving, working, having lunch, living on the lake.
9. Reading other people's blogs.
10. Eating good chocolate--especially dark chocolate.
1. Getting to sleep late on Saturdays.
2. Having a husband who makes coffee *and* breakfast before waking me up.
3. Having time for a third cup of coffee before we leave for work.
4. Having grandbabies who still sit in my lap, even the ones who are taller than me.
5. Early morning talk while drinking coffee with Jeana's Scott, while she gets to sleep late after staying up until 4:30 Sat. morning with her brother, working on her new blog site.
6. Sitting on the dock watching Wick fish, and applauding when he catches one.
7. Six adult children who talk to me as friends as well as family.
8. Getting to be with my husband virtually 24 hours a day, driving, working, having lunch, living on the lake.
9. Reading other people's blogs.
10. Eating good chocolate--especially dark chocolate.
Family Stuff
Wick and I spent the weekend at Jeana's, starting Thursday night. Our son Ron and wife Nikky came from near Houston,and son Scott and family came Sat. along with some cousins. There were 29 of us, I think, and it was great.
Jeana's Scott came in from work Friday and saw wonton wrappers in the refrigerator. He said, "Are you making Chinese for tomorrow?" I said yes, and he began to dance me around the kitchen, he was so excited. He is so easily pleased, and I enjoy cooking for him.
Jeana and I shopped for food Friday, while Nikky entertained the little ones in the toy department. While we were checking out, we saw a magazine cover about Gwenyth Paltrow's new baby. She named the first Apple, and this second one Moses. Jeana said she thought that Adam would have gone better with Apple; I said I thought she should have named him MacIntosh (see Jeana's entry about Adam and Eve getting involved with the apple).
On our way to Jeana's Thursday, we stopped at Flying J truck stop to get deisel and fill the propane tank. The propane guy always makes us get out of the RV, because he says it could blow up while he is filling the tank. (!) So I was standing between the propane tank and the deisel pumps, holding Frankie and hoping the RV wouldn't blow up, when a big burly truck driver climbed down out of his 18 wheeler and approached me.
"Is that a Pomeranian?" he asked.
I said yes.
He said," My wife has one of those. Every time she goes out to take a ____, her ___ gets all ______ and I have to scrub her ___ before she can get back into the truck."
It took me a few seconds to realize that he was talking about the Pomeranian, and not his wife.
Jeana's oven caught on fire Friday while we were cooking a brisket for supper. The heating element made a loud strange electrical noise, and smoke started coming out into the kitchen. Her daddy put the fire out with a water pistol, and managed to save the brisket without any damage. Jeana stood by with a fire extinguisher while he shut off the breaker. Dawson was just worried about whether or not we had damaged his gun while putting out the fire.
There were about 35 of us at my mother's Easter Sunday. The guys hid eggs for the smallest ones, then did a more difficult hiding of the eggs for the older kids. My mother puts candy inside those plastic eggs, about a bushel basket of them, and usually about 3-4 pieces in each egg. So while the babies were hunting their eggs, "someone" sneaked the chocolate malted eggs out of the remaining plastic eggs, on the theory that no one would ever know there had been 3 pieces instead of two in each egg. Well, at least she was willing to share with me ;)
Jeana's Scott came in from work Friday and saw wonton wrappers in the refrigerator. He said, "Are you making Chinese for tomorrow?" I said yes, and he began to dance me around the kitchen, he was so excited. He is so easily pleased, and I enjoy cooking for him.
Jeana and I shopped for food Friday, while Nikky entertained the little ones in the toy department. While we were checking out, we saw a magazine cover about Gwenyth Paltrow's new baby. She named the first Apple, and this second one Moses. Jeana said she thought that Adam would have gone better with Apple; I said I thought she should have named him MacIntosh (see Jeana's entry about Adam and Eve getting involved with the apple).
On our way to Jeana's Thursday, we stopped at Flying J truck stop to get deisel and fill the propane tank. The propane guy always makes us get out of the RV, because he says it could blow up while he is filling the tank. (!) So I was standing between the propane tank and the deisel pumps, holding Frankie and hoping the RV wouldn't blow up, when a big burly truck driver climbed down out of his 18 wheeler and approached me.
"Is that a Pomeranian?" he asked.
I said yes.
He said," My wife has one of those. Every time she goes out to take a ____, her ___ gets all ______ and I have to scrub her ___ before she can get back into the truck."
It took me a few seconds to realize that he was talking about the Pomeranian, and not his wife.
Jeana's oven caught on fire Friday while we were cooking a brisket for supper. The heating element made a loud strange electrical noise, and smoke started coming out into the kitchen. Her daddy put the fire out with a water pistol, and managed to save the brisket without any damage. Jeana stood by with a fire extinguisher while he shut off the breaker. Dawson was just worried about whether or not we had damaged his gun while putting out the fire.
There were about 35 of us at my mother's Easter Sunday. The guys hid eggs for the smallest ones, then did a more difficult hiding of the eggs for the older kids. My mother puts candy inside those plastic eggs, about a bushel basket of them, and usually about 3-4 pieces in each egg. So while the babies were hunting their eggs, "someone" sneaked the chocolate malted eggs out of the remaining plastic eggs, on the theory that no one would ever know there had been 3 pieces instead of two in each egg. Well, at least she was willing to share with me ;)
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Living in the sunshine of God's love
Do you get the blues in the winter? Some people call it SAD--seasonal affective disorder. I love the cold weather, love sitting by a fire drinking coffee or hot cocoa, love snuggling under a quilt with my darlin', but those short days, especially the cloudy ones, wear on me. I feel as if my mind is in hibernation mode. No new ideas, no creative energy. Then the days start to get longer, we have some bright sunshiny days, and I am renewed.
I've been sitting in the sunshine, soaking up the warmth, watching the birds, listening to the breeze, and looking up into that gloriously blue, cloudless Texas sky, thinking about sunshine and warmth and God.
For some reason, it just struck me how God knows us *wholely*. He knew me, as the Psalmist says, "before I was knit together in my mother's womb." Before my parents or grandparents were even conceived, He knew me. He knew my heart, my mind, my very DNA. He knew the mistakes I would make, the contrary spirit I sometimes indulge, the angry words I would one day say. He knew too the love He would kindle in me for the husband I had not met, the babies yet to be born, for the family to come, whether through birth or marriage, adoption formal or informal, all of us bound together through blood and through love--just as He binds us to Himself through the blood of Jesus, and the eternal love through which we find salvation and become His children.
For today, for this moment, I feel His *knowing* of me. Not just the past or the present, but entirely, and for eternity, He knows me, and He loves me anyway.
I've been sitting in the sunshine, soaking up the warmth, watching the birds, listening to the breeze, and looking up into that gloriously blue, cloudless Texas sky, thinking about sunshine and warmth and God.
For some reason, it just struck me how God knows us *wholely*. He knew me, as the Psalmist says, "before I was knit together in my mother's womb." Before my parents or grandparents were even conceived, He knew me. He knew my heart, my mind, my very DNA. He knew the mistakes I would make, the contrary spirit I sometimes indulge, the angry words I would one day say. He knew too the love He would kindle in me for the husband I had not met, the babies yet to be born, for the family to come, whether through birth or marriage, adoption formal or informal, all of us bound together through blood and through love--just as He binds us to Himself through the blood of Jesus, and the eternal love through which we find salvation and become His children.
For today, for this moment, I feel His *knowing* of me. Not just the past or the present, but entirely, and for eternity, He knows me, and He loves me anyway.
Then the student said...
I teach in a disciplinary program. My husband and I both teach there. We've been doing it for years, and feel that it is our calling--our gift--to work with these students. Our gift, in more than one sense. A gift from God who calls us to do this work. A gift for dealing with difficult students, students who often have never had any parental guidance, who may not even know one or both of their parents, or who have had to assume the adult role in the household because the "adults" behave like immature children. But these kids also are a gift to us. They often give us insights into issues we have struggled with for a long time. Sometimes they gift us with their love, the gift of their trust, and their progress toward adulthood. Sometimes they just give us a good laugh.
Thursday I had to redirect a student several times, because he was not working on his assignments. Each time, he argued that he had nothing to do, but as I went through the stacks of books and papers in his cubicle, we found that he did indeed have a great deal of work to do; he just didn't want to do any of it.
Mid-afternoon I saw that he was drawing. I took the drawing from him, and redirected him. His response?
"If you hadn't of seen that, you wouldn't have come back her and taken it away from me!!"
What could I say? He was right; if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have taken it.
Here is where you are supposed to laugh :)
Thursday I had to redirect a student several times, because he was not working on his assignments. Each time, he argued that he had nothing to do, but as I went through the stacks of books and papers in his cubicle, we found that he did indeed have a great deal of work to do; he just didn't want to do any of it.
Mid-afternoon I saw that he was drawing. I took the drawing from him, and redirected him. His response?
"If you hadn't of seen that, you wouldn't have come back her and taken it away from me!!"
What could I say? He was right; if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have taken it.
Here is where you are supposed to laugh :)
Thursday, April 06, 2006
At the boat dock
This evening we went down to the dock after supper (fried fish caught last night from this very dock). Wick fished, and I sat and rocked and watched the ducks, geese, and one lone swan swimming around our cove. He bent over to pick up a pair of pliers, and I was reminded of another evening spent at the dock.
Wick has been fishing. He stood up, heard a plop in the water, and thought it was a fish. Then he realized his cell phone was no longer on his belt; it must have fallen into the water. He walked up to the storage barn and brought back a leaf rake to fish around for the cell phone with.
Being the foresighted person he is, and having learned his lesson, he took his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on a chair. Then he lay down on the dock to fish out his phone. He accidentally kicked out with his foot and knocked the chair, and his glasses, off into the water with the cell phone. He finally decided he would have to get into the water to find the phone and his glasses. He forgot to take his tennis shoes off.
I was not there to witness this series of events. I found out about it when I came home, walked into the door, and found a cell phone hanging from a bungee cord attached to an air conditioning vent in the ceiling, and my blow dryer nearby.
Next day we took the phone to the phone store. Did he tell the nice lady behind the counter what had happened? No. She said what seems to be the problem?
He said I don't know. Yesterday it was working fine, and today it lights up but won't ring or make a call.
He still had to pay th fee for a replacement phone.
But he is a little more careful with his belongings when he fishes from the dock. Last night he carefully put his glasses on the dock so they wouldn't fall out of his pocket. Then he stepped on them.
Wick has been fishing. He stood up, heard a plop in the water, and thought it was a fish. Then he realized his cell phone was no longer on his belt; it must have fallen into the water. He walked up to the storage barn and brought back a leaf rake to fish around for the cell phone with.
Being the foresighted person he is, and having learned his lesson, he took his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on a chair. Then he lay down on the dock to fish out his phone. He accidentally kicked out with his foot and knocked the chair, and his glasses, off into the water with the cell phone. He finally decided he would have to get into the water to find the phone and his glasses. He forgot to take his tennis shoes off.
I was not there to witness this series of events. I found out about it when I came home, walked into the door, and found a cell phone hanging from a bungee cord attached to an air conditioning vent in the ceiling, and my blow dryer nearby.
Next day we took the phone to the phone store. Did he tell the nice lady behind the counter what had happened? No. She said what seems to be the problem?
He said I don't know. Yesterday it was working fine, and today it lights up but won't ring or make a call.
He still had to pay th fee for a replacement phone.
But he is a little more careful with his belongings when he fishes from the dock. Last night he carefully put his glasses on the dock so they wouldn't fall out of his pocket. Then he stepped on them.
In my classrom today...
A student walked out of the classroom this afternoon during class, got his hat from the hook, and went out the front door. Staff members went after him and brought him back to the office to explain to the principal why he left.
A few minutes later, the principal called another student out of the room.
A few minutes after that, she called a third student out of the room.
We got the explanation later: It seems that student #1 had been sleeping. Students 2 and 3 woke him up, saying that he had missed his bus. So he jumped up and ran out of the building, hat in hand, to....what....chase down the bus?
We are still laughing.
A few minutes later, the principal called another student out of the room.
A few minutes after that, she called a third student out of the room.
We got the explanation later: It seems that student #1 had been sleeping. Students 2 and 3 woke him up, saying that he had missed his bus. So he jumped up and ran out of the building, hat in hand, to....what....chase down the bus?
We are still laughing.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Yielding to my husband's authority, trusting In God
I responded briefly to Jeana’s post, but after we talked, she said it is okay with her for me to tell my story relating to husband as head of household. (Before I write anything extremely personal, I clear it with her first and with Wick—I don’t want to embarrass them)
Like Jeana, I had some pregnancy related health problems, but still wanted more children—I thought three was the least, and four would be even better, maybe even five. My husband felt otherwise, and decided to have a vasectomy a few months after Jeana was born. I was and am amazed at the peace I felt from God regarding his decision, even though I wanted to get pregnant again. I accepted my husband’s authority, and respected his wishes in this matter.
Of course, I had no idea how thing were going to develop. I continued to have health problems, which got so bad that my doctor sent me to a specialist. After tests and examinations, he asked Wick and me to come to his office for a conference. He said I needed to have a hysterectomy. I was devastated. I was in my mid-twenties, I still in my heart of hearts wanted another baby, and I believed that God could make it possible, if it were His will. The specialist was very kind, but also very honest with us. He said that even if I were somehow to become pregnant again, the odds of carrying the baby to term and delivering a living child were practically zero, and the odds of my surviving were less than 20%. How good God is! He knows our needs before we ask, before we even know that we have a need.
At that period of our lives, my husband was not actively involved with our church, and we shared little of our faith experiences. I suppose I could have said that I shouldn’t have to abide by his wishes, or yield to his authority, because of that situation. But it never occurred to me to question his leadership in our home.
I know that people have widely varying opinions about birth control, as well as many other issues. I would never tell anyone else that our choice is the choice for them. Bearing children is a very private matter between a husband and wife, and should be a subject of many prayers. I know that God created animals with instincts, instead of reasoning power; a dog doesn’t wonder whether to have another litter of puppies; a bird doesn’t choose whether to build a nest in spring. But God created us in His image, with the power to think and reason, and why would He give us these powers if He didn’t expect us to use them? As Jeana said, a person who needs a job probably needs to fill out some applications. Very few people would passively wait at home for someone to knock on the door with a job offer. How much more involved we should be in any decision that involves bringing a new life into the world. We can not be saved by works alone, but faith without work is dead. Involve God in every choice, in every aspect of your life and your marriage; allow God to work through the man to whom He has bound you in marriage, and God will honor that trust.
I believe that it is at least partly due to this choice we made as a couple that God has blessed us so abundantly, so far beyond anything we could have ever asked for, in regard to the mates our children chose. Each of them is a precious addition to our family, and a blessing every day. So instead of three children, now we have six—how generous God is, and how lovingly he answers our prayers in ways we can’t imagine. I am blessed to be mother to six, and didn’t even have to get pregnant again!
God is so good.
Like Jeana, I had some pregnancy related health problems, but still wanted more children—I thought three was the least, and four would be even better, maybe even five. My husband felt otherwise, and decided to have a vasectomy a few months after Jeana was born. I was and am amazed at the peace I felt from God regarding his decision, even though I wanted to get pregnant again. I accepted my husband’s authority, and respected his wishes in this matter.
Of course, I had no idea how thing were going to develop. I continued to have health problems, which got so bad that my doctor sent me to a specialist. After tests and examinations, he asked Wick and me to come to his office for a conference. He said I needed to have a hysterectomy. I was devastated. I was in my mid-twenties, I still in my heart of hearts wanted another baby, and I believed that God could make it possible, if it were His will. The specialist was very kind, but also very honest with us. He said that even if I were somehow to become pregnant again, the odds of carrying the baby to term and delivering a living child were practically zero, and the odds of my surviving were less than 20%. How good God is! He knows our needs before we ask, before we even know that we have a need.
At that period of our lives, my husband was not actively involved with our church, and we shared little of our faith experiences. I suppose I could have said that I shouldn’t have to abide by his wishes, or yield to his authority, because of that situation. But it never occurred to me to question his leadership in our home.
I know that people have widely varying opinions about birth control, as well as many other issues. I would never tell anyone else that our choice is the choice for them. Bearing children is a very private matter between a husband and wife, and should be a subject of many prayers. I know that God created animals with instincts, instead of reasoning power; a dog doesn’t wonder whether to have another litter of puppies; a bird doesn’t choose whether to build a nest in spring. But God created us in His image, with the power to think and reason, and why would He give us these powers if He didn’t expect us to use them? As Jeana said, a person who needs a job probably needs to fill out some applications. Very few people would passively wait at home for someone to knock on the door with a job offer. How much more involved we should be in any decision that involves bringing a new life into the world. We can not be saved by works alone, but faith without work is dead. Involve God in every choice, in every aspect of your life and your marriage; allow God to work through the man to whom He has bound you in marriage, and God will honor that trust.
I believe that it is at least partly due to this choice we made as a couple that God has blessed us so abundantly, so far beyond anything we could have ever asked for, in regard to the mates our children chose. Each of them is a precious addition to our family, and a blessing every day. So instead of three children, now we have six—how generous God is, and how lovingly he answers our prayers in ways we can’t imagine. I am blessed to be mother to six, and didn’t even have to get pregnant again!
God is so good.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
"Educational" Conversations
Student: Dr. E, am I passing your class?
Me (I'm the teacher): No, you are not
Student: How come?
Me: Out of ten assignments, you have three zeros, because you never finished the work.
Student: Yeah, but I passed everything else.
Me: Yes, you did, but with three zeros, you would have to make one hundred on the other seven to pass.
Student: Yeah, miss, but on the other seven, I had an average of 70, and that's passing.
Me: (Sigh) Who taught you math?
..........................................................................................................................................................................
Student's Parent: I just want to know why you told my boy he is goin to flunk English.
Me: Mrs. Smith, the highest grade Johnny has for any of the 5 six week periods so far is 50.
Parent: But that don't mean he is goin to fail *this* six weeks.
Me: That's true. Anything is possible. He might pass this six weeks (saying to myself, when pigs fly).
Parent: I jes don't thank you ought to discourage him like that.
Me: I didn't mean to discourage him. He asked me if he was passing, and I told him no.
Parent: You got no right to put him down like that. He has jus as much chance of passin as anybody else.
Me: But, Mrs. Smith, even if he passed for the last six weeks, he still couldn't pass for the year. He has 5 grades of 50 or lower.
Parent: How do you know?
Me: I have his report card records.
Parent: No, how do you know he is going to fail.
Me: Well, with 5 grades of 50, it is not possible to make a high enough grade in the sixth six weeks to pass for the year.
Parent: How do you know?
Me: (long explanation of how grades are averaged, what he would have to make to pass for the year, blah blah blah, which is all the parent heard)
Parent: But how do you know he can't pass?
This conversation was repeated with slight variations for over 15 minutes.
I finally took her to see the principal, to see if *he* could explain it, since obviously I couldn't.
I may not be a math whiz (understatement) but even I can conprehend that this kid's English class performance is better than the parent's math skills.
Me (I'm the teacher): No, you are not
Student: How come?
Me: Out of ten assignments, you have three zeros, because you never finished the work.
Student: Yeah, but I passed everything else.
Me: Yes, you did, but with three zeros, you would have to make one hundred on the other seven to pass.
Student: Yeah, miss, but on the other seven, I had an average of 70, and that's passing.
Me: (Sigh) Who taught you math?
..........................................................................................................................................................................
Student's Parent: I just want to know why you told my boy he is goin to flunk English.
Me: Mrs. Smith, the highest grade Johnny has for any of the 5 six week periods so far is 50.
Parent: But that don't mean he is goin to fail *this* six weeks.
Me: That's true. Anything is possible. He might pass this six weeks (saying to myself, when pigs fly).
Parent: I jes don't thank you ought to discourage him like that.
Me: I didn't mean to discourage him. He asked me if he was passing, and I told him no.
Parent: You got no right to put him down like that. He has jus as much chance of passin as anybody else.
Me: But, Mrs. Smith, even if he passed for the last six weeks, he still couldn't pass for the year. He has 5 grades of 50 or lower.
Parent: How do you know?
Me: I have his report card records.
Parent: No, how do you know he is going to fail.
Me: Well, with 5 grades of 50, it is not possible to make a high enough grade in the sixth six weeks to pass for the year.
Parent: How do you know?
Me: (long explanation of how grades are averaged, what he would have to make to pass for the year, blah blah blah, which is all the parent heard)
Parent: But how do you know he can't pass?
This conversation was repeated with slight variations for over 15 minutes.
I finally took her to see the principal, to see if *he* could explain it, since obviously I couldn't.
I may not be a math whiz (understatement) but even I can conprehend that this kid's English class performance is better than the parent's math skills.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Love and Romance After 36 Years
The 28th was our 36th anniversary. I came home from work with an upset tummy--went straight to bed, and to sleep. Not much romance there.
Last night we went out to eat, to celebrate belatedly. Wick & I have been on a low carb diet since New Year's Day, and have been doing well--blood sugar down for both of us, both losing weight and inches, both feeling good, more energy. So where did we go? Did we stay on our diet? Of course not!
We went to On the Border, and had Margaritas and Tex-Mex. We both love Margaritas--in fact, Wick ordered plans from an on-line site for building our very own Margarita machine this summer. Now, I am restricted to only two or three drinks--not because he is controlling, or because I have such self-restraint--no, it is because I am a cheap date. I am drunk after three drinks. So Of course, I ordered the large Margarita, which is the size of a small bird bath. I swigged it down like I was dying of thirst, and gave myself brain freeze. Oh my goodness, it tasted sooooooooo good! We ate nearly three baskets of chips with salsa, and ordered huge platters of food. We had really looked forward to this meal, to eating all the things we have not eaten for 3 months.
Unfortunately, after three months of low carb eating, we just can't eat the way we used to. After all those tortilla chips, we couldn't finish our meal. We had even planned to order a dessert (just one, to split--after all, we *are* on a diet), but since we couldn't even finish the empanadas, beans, rice, cheese enchiladas, chile relenos, etc., we passed on the chocolate fudge brownie sundae. Sigh.
We held hands on the way home, and talked about sitting out on the boat dock and looking at the stars. We also talked about our honeymoon.
We started out with a one-bedroom apartment, the bed and dresser that had been in my room at my parents' house, and twenty cans of cream style corn--Ten cans for a dollar, what a deal, how could you pass that up?
We went to San Antonio for one night. We ate at a Chinese restaurant--a *Chinese* restaurant, in *San Antonio*, where there are dozens of great Tex-Mex restaurants. What were we thinking?
Not about food, obviously. After we left the Chinese restaurant (I had never been to one, or eaten Chinese food before), we went to the Alamo, the zoo, and downtown San Antonio. then, because we had practically no money, we went to a grocery store, bought a package of bologna, a loaf of bread, and a jar of mayonaise, and went back to our motel room to watch old movies on t.v.
We had to leave the next day to go home, because we couldn't afford for Wick to miss a day of work. We pretty much lived on love, which was a good thing, because all I knew how to cook were scrambled eggs, and steak. Wick only liked fried eggs, with runny yolks, and we couldn't afford steak, so .... I had to learn to cook. Once, I boiled a roast. Another time, I cooked a pot of beans but didn't put in any salt or seasoning. So it was back to bologna sandwiches, while I read cookbooks and did science experiments in our tiny kitchen. I learned to make a tuna noodle casserole that would feed six people--unfortunately, I couldn't find six people who liked it. I made a salmon in cream sauce that was poured over buns; the neighborhood cats haunted our trash can for weeks afterward.
Fortunately, Wick already knew how to cook, and he managed to keep us fed until I managed to find six recipes that were edible. That's one for every day of the week, almost--That seventh day, we had hot dogs.
romance? oh yeah.....my husband can be truly romantic. Once, he ran me a bath with bubble bath in it, dried me with warm towels (fresh from the dryer), and when we went into the living room, I found it lit with myriad candles, a quilt spread on the floor, and wine already poured. So what if the wine glasses were plastic, and the quilt was necessary because the house we were living in and building at the same time only had subflooring, no carpet?
When the man I love takes my hand, I feel 16 again, and head over heels in love.
Sorry for the mushy stuff, but after all, we have managed to stay together for 36 years, and that is reason enough for celebration.
Last night we went out to eat, to celebrate belatedly. Wick & I have been on a low carb diet since New Year's Day, and have been doing well--blood sugar down for both of us, both losing weight and inches, both feeling good, more energy. So where did we go? Did we stay on our diet? Of course not!
We went to On the Border, and had Margaritas and Tex-Mex. We both love Margaritas--in fact, Wick ordered plans from an on-line site for building our very own Margarita machine this summer. Now, I am restricted to only two or three drinks--not because he is controlling, or because I have such self-restraint--no, it is because I am a cheap date. I am drunk after three drinks. So Of course, I ordered the large Margarita, which is the size of a small bird bath. I swigged it down like I was dying of thirst, and gave myself brain freeze. Oh my goodness, it tasted sooooooooo good! We ate nearly three baskets of chips with salsa, and ordered huge platters of food. We had really looked forward to this meal, to eating all the things we have not eaten for 3 months.
Unfortunately, after three months of low carb eating, we just can't eat the way we used to. After all those tortilla chips, we couldn't finish our meal. We had even planned to order a dessert (just one, to split--after all, we *are* on a diet), but since we couldn't even finish the empanadas, beans, rice, cheese enchiladas, chile relenos, etc., we passed on the chocolate fudge brownie sundae. Sigh.
We held hands on the way home, and talked about sitting out on the boat dock and looking at the stars. We also talked about our honeymoon.
We started out with a one-bedroom apartment, the bed and dresser that had been in my room at my parents' house, and twenty cans of cream style corn--Ten cans for a dollar, what a deal, how could you pass that up?
We went to San Antonio for one night. We ate at a Chinese restaurant--a *Chinese* restaurant, in *San Antonio*, where there are dozens of great Tex-Mex restaurants. What were we thinking?
Not about food, obviously. After we left the Chinese restaurant (I had never been to one, or eaten Chinese food before), we went to the Alamo, the zoo, and downtown San Antonio. then, because we had practically no money, we went to a grocery store, bought a package of bologna, a loaf of bread, and a jar of mayonaise, and went back to our motel room to watch old movies on t.v.
We had to leave the next day to go home, because we couldn't afford for Wick to miss a day of work. We pretty much lived on love, which was a good thing, because all I knew how to cook were scrambled eggs, and steak. Wick only liked fried eggs, with runny yolks, and we couldn't afford steak, so .... I had to learn to cook. Once, I boiled a roast. Another time, I cooked a pot of beans but didn't put in any salt or seasoning. So it was back to bologna sandwiches, while I read cookbooks and did science experiments in our tiny kitchen. I learned to make a tuna noodle casserole that would feed six people--unfortunately, I couldn't find six people who liked it. I made a salmon in cream sauce that was poured over buns; the neighborhood cats haunted our trash can for weeks afterward.
Fortunately, Wick already knew how to cook, and he managed to keep us fed until I managed to find six recipes that were edible. That's one for every day of the week, almost--That seventh day, we had hot dogs.
romance? oh yeah.....my husband can be truly romantic. Once, he ran me a bath with bubble bath in it, dried me with warm towels (fresh from the dryer), and when we went into the living room, I found it lit with myriad candles, a quilt spread on the floor, and wine already poured. So what if the wine glasses were plastic, and the quilt was necessary because the house we were living in and building at the same time only had subflooring, no carpet?
When the man I love takes my hand, I feel 16 again, and head over heels in love.
Sorry for the mushy stuff, but after all, we have managed to stay together for 36 years, and that is reason enough for celebration.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Under Granny B's House
Have I mentioned that Pride & Prejudice is one of my favorite books? It's also a favorite of daughter Jeana, and now her Katie is reading it. I guess that is what got me to thinking about the first time I read it.
my grandmother's house was a frame house set on bois d'arc posts. Since it sat on a slope, one side was practically on the ground, and the other side was high enough to stand under. In this part of Texas, we just don't have cellars or basements (oh, except for storm cellars, which are usually not under the house). That space under the house was always cooler that outdoors in the summer. Granny B had shelves there where she stored her home-canned fruits and vegetables, potatoes and apples, and other stuff she didn't want to get rid of, but didn't have house room for. As the oldest grandchild, I was often sent under the house to get a jar of spiced peaches, chili sauce, or bread and butter pickles. I can remember how those jars glowed in the cool dark space, like jewels in a cave.
I also discovered books. Lots of books. Smokey the Cow Horse. The 'Nigger" of the Narcissus (Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness author). Old literature textbooks. And Pride and Prejudice. My daddy's theory was that kids should be allowed to read any book in the house, because you never know what they will get out of it, and if they are not ready, they will put it down and come back to it when they are older. So nobody told me I was too young to read these books. I admit that I didn't understand everything (I had some *major* questions about Joseph Conrad, the title of his book, and racism). But I fell in love with Pride and Prejudice. In the long hot sunny summer afternoons, I would disappear under the house and read, and read, and read.
Mama woud take us to the library every week, and I discovered that those authors whom I had met under Granny B's house had written other books! Wow! What richness! I checked out a laundry basket full of books every week, and read my heart out.
The drawback to checking books out from the library was that Mama wouldn't let me take them up under the house, because she was afraid I would get them dirty, and then we would have to pay a fine to the library. I don't think the librarian would have noticed. She was too staggered by the sheer volume of books I read. She told me once that I should not check out so many books at one time, because no one could read that many books in one week. Mama had to explain to her that I read that basket of books in *one* week, and then read them again the second week, while waiting for the next trip to the library.
I loved reading under the house. It was a treasure cave, a port to other places and other times, a doorway into amazing adventures, and a cool retreat on hot summer days. I kind of wish I could still crawl up under Granny B's house and read.
my grandmother's house was a frame house set on bois d'arc posts. Since it sat on a slope, one side was practically on the ground, and the other side was high enough to stand under. In this part of Texas, we just don't have cellars or basements (oh, except for storm cellars, which are usually not under the house). That space under the house was always cooler that outdoors in the summer. Granny B had shelves there where she stored her home-canned fruits and vegetables, potatoes and apples, and other stuff she didn't want to get rid of, but didn't have house room for. As the oldest grandchild, I was often sent under the house to get a jar of spiced peaches, chili sauce, or bread and butter pickles. I can remember how those jars glowed in the cool dark space, like jewels in a cave.
I also discovered books. Lots of books. Smokey the Cow Horse. The 'Nigger" of the Narcissus (Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness author). Old literature textbooks. And Pride and Prejudice. My daddy's theory was that kids should be allowed to read any book in the house, because you never know what they will get out of it, and if they are not ready, they will put it down and come back to it when they are older. So nobody told me I was too young to read these books. I admit that I didn't understand everything (I had some *major* questions about Joseph Conrad, the title of his book, and racism). But I fell in love with Pride and Prejudice. In the long hot sunny summer afternoons, I would disappear under the house and read, and read, and read.
Mama woud take us to the library every week, and I discovered that those authors whom I had met under Granny B's house had written other books! Wow! What richness! I checked out a laundry basket full of books every week, and read my heart out.
The drawback to checking books out from the library was that Mama wouldn't let me take them up under the house, because she was afraid I would get them dirty, and then we would have to pay a fine to the library. I don't think the librarian would have noticed. She was too staggered by the sheer volume of books I read. She told me once that I should not check out so many books at one time, because no one could read that many books in one week. Mama had to explain to her that I read that basket of books in *one* week, and then read them again the second week, while waiting for the next trip to the library.
I loved reading under the house. It was a treasure cave, a port to other places and other times, a doorway into amazing adventures, and a cool retreat on hot summer days. I kind of wish I could still crawl up under Granny B's house and read.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Strange Dreams
We went camping with Wick's brother this weekend. It was freezing cold Friday night, and I just couldn't get warm, even standing right by the fire. So we went into Tommy's trailer, and he turned on the heat pump. Which seemed to me to be blowing cold air. So I went back to our RV. Two quilts, my knitted shawl over my feet, the little electric heater blazing its little heart out, and I was still freezing. I dreamed I was stranded in the Arctic, and our Pomeranian was pulling our sled.
Sat. turned out to be a pretty nice day. Sunny, warmer (for a few hours anyway), so we stayed outside all afternoon. Then it got cold again. Our sons were sitting on the tailgate of the pickup, drinking beer, and our little nephew was begging us to take him down to the water to see a dead fish (again), and I drank so much coffee I couldn't go to sleep for hours after I went inside and went to bed. I dreamed about making coffee and serving it to dead fish.
When we got home this evening, we backed the RV over the water connection. Water sprayed everywhere, Wick used some choice words, and almost ran over Frankie when he repositioned the RV.
Wonder what I will dream about tonight?
Sat. turned out to be a pretty nice day. Sunny, warmer (for a few hours anyway), so we stayed outside all afternoon. Then it got cold again. Our sons were sitting on the tailgate of the pickup, drinking beer, and our little nephew was begging us to take him down to the water to see a dead fish (again), and I drank so much coffee I couldn't go to sleep for hours after I went inside and went to bed. I dreamed about making coffee and serving it to dead fish.
When we got home this evening, we backed the RV over the water connection. Water sprayed everywhere, Wick used some choice words, and almost ran over Frankie when he repositioned the RV.
Wonder what I will dream about tonight?
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Hi Y'all
First, thanks to everyone who has commented on my posts. I am overwhelmed! Jeana is going to teach me how to put links on my blog to your sites, and I am going to try to answer each of you in the next few days. However, this weekend we are camping at Lake Texoma with Wick's brother, and I won't be sitting at the computer for a couple of days. I just had to check comments though, since Jeana called and told me y'all were responding. This is soooo cool!
It is freezing cold this weekend. What a winter. We had icy roads right at the beginning of winter, and lost a school day because the buses couldn't run (we teach in a rural area). Then it was warm and mild almost all winter. Now, the first week in spring, we are having freezing temperatures, frost on our windshields in the mornings, and digging out the warm clothes I just packed up for storage two weeks ago. Jeana warned me I was jumping the gun a little, but since we live in our RV, we don't have a huge amount of clothes storage space, and my summer stuff takes up a lot less room that my winter stuff. I know some of y'all think that Texas doesn't really have different seasons, but we do--sometimes all four seasons in one week. Some years we are wearing shorts Thanksgiving weekend. Other years, it snows on Easter. You never know what to expect. And yes, like Jeana, I do keep a jacket and jeans around during the summer, and shorts and t-shirts in the drawer in winter. A couple of years ago, we had all our kids and grandkids at the lake over 4th of July, and Jeana's dear husband was wearing a sweatshirt! on 4th of July! in Texas!
In this part of Texas, temps often go above 100 degrees in summer; and down below 20 is not that unusual in winter. And sometimes in the 40's in summer. or the 90's in winter. How do you know how to dress, with weather like that?
When we planned this trip, we though we could expect warm weather, after the warm winter we've had. You know, jeans, t-shirts, maybe a light jacket. Last night, we had a bonfire, I had on a fleece jacket with a knit shawl over that, and stood practically in the fire, and was still shivering. Poured down the hot coffee till I thought I was going to be sick, and still couldn't feel my toes. Still frigid this morning, but the forecast is sunshine and 66 degrees. I'll believe that when I see it.
Well that is enough rambling for this morning; Ive got to take Frankie outside (he's the amazing shrinking Pomeranian mentioned in one of Jeana's posts) before he had a conniption fit.
It is freezing cold this weekend. What a winter. We had icy roads right at the beginning of winter, and lost a school day because the buses couldn't run (we teach in a rural area). Then it was warm and mild almost all winter. Now, the first week in spring, we are having freezing temperatures, frost on our windshields in the mornings, and digging out the warm clothes I just packed up for storage two weeks ago. Jeana warned me I was jumping the gun a little, but since we live in our RV, we don't have a huge amount of clothes storage space, and my summer stuff takes up a lot less room that my winter stuff. I know some of y'all think that Texas doesn't really have different seasons, but we do--sometimes all four seasons in one week. Some years we are wearing shorts Thanksgiving weekend. Other years, it snows on Easter. You never know what to expect. And yes, like Jeana, I do keep a jacket and jeans around during the summer, and shorts and t-shirts in the drawer in winter. A couple of years ago, we had all our kids and grandkids at the lake over 4th of July, and Jeana's dear husband was wearing a sweatshirt! on 4th of July! in Texas!
In this part of Texas, temps often go above 100 degrees in summer; and down below 20 is not that unusual in winter. And sometimes in the 40's in summer. or the 90's in winter. How do you know how to dress, with weather like that?
When we planned this trip, we though we could expect warm weather, after the warm winter we've had. You know, jeans, t-shirts, maybe a light jacket. Last night, we had a bonfire, I had on a fleece jacket with a knit shawl over that, and stood practically in the fire, and was still shivering. Poured down the hot coffee till I thought I was going to be sick, and still couldn't feel my toes. Still frigid this morning, but the forecast is sunshine and 66 degrees. I'll believe that when I see it.
Well that is enough rambling for this morning; Ive got to take Frankie outside (he's the amazing shrinking Pomeranian mentioned in one of Jeana's posts) before he had a conniption fit.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Directions
Have you ever noticed that people differ greatly in how they give directions? There are those, like my husband,who think in terms of compass points. You know, as in "go 2.3 miles and turn north. Then proceed 1.8 miles. Turn west." I can figure out the 2.3 miles part, that is, if the little dookickey on the dashboard is working...(which in our 1991 Honda happened about once a month, so was totally unreliable as a measuring device--or for telling how fast you are going) but since we don't happen to have a compass in the car, how in the world am I supposed to know which direction is north? My daddy once upon a time managed to pound into my consciounes the following information: face north, and your right hand is east, and your left hand is west. Now, as I remember it, the reason you face north is so that your family and friends have your back, and you can see what those sneaky northerners (known in these parts as yankees, or d___yankees, said as one word of course) are up to before it is too late to run for cover (or load your weapon) . But I still haven't figured out how you know which direction is north, if no yankees happen to be coming over the hill at the moment that you need to know which way north is?
My way of giving directions is something like this: start slowing down when you pass by where the old Piggly Wiggly used to be--no, not the new old one that is out on the end of Morton St., that's where the old one moved when it moved from this street--the old one, the one where the Goodwill was after the Piggle Wiggly moved to Morton St., and then it was a tire store--well, anyway, slow down when you get to where the old Piggly Wiggly was, and watch for the house with the bright red door--oh, they painted it purple? I guess I haven't been past there since they painted it. Did they paint the trim to match, or just the door? I always thought the red door with the orange trim was sort of gaudy .... oh yeah, well, after you pass the house that used to have a bright red door,.......well, you probably get the idea.
I like to think that God sometimes gave directions in a similar way-- after you pass the burning bush and themountain where Moses got the stone tablets, it will take you about 40 years to cross the desert, and there you are in the Promised Land. And by the way, don't forget about the Ten Commandments. Of course, there He was much more specific--which is probably a good thing.
I do admit that I have no sense of direction, since any time I go into a building, I am totally lost if I come out a different door. In fact, my husband once took advantage of this weakness, or at least he tried. We were on vacation with our son and daughter-in-law, and three babies under four years old. The babies, DIL, and I were all asleep in the back of the Suburban when husband and son stopped to get gas (we left on our journey at some ungodly hour well before dawn, as is usual with my husband--two hours on the road, and then we might stop for breakfast). I got out, looked at son, who was pumping gas, and said,"I'm going inside to use the restroom." When I came out, no Suburban was in sight. So I went back in, walked through the whole truck stop, and went out the other door. Still no suburban. So I walked all the way around the truck stop, just to be sure I was not overlooking a black Suburban (sort of like not seeing a tank parked in your yard). Son later told me the part of the trip to which I was not a witness. About 30 minutes down the highway, Dad says, "Where do you want to stop for breakfast?" Son says," I don't care." Dad says, "Ask Mama." Son turns around to look in the back, then turns back around without saying anything. Dad says, "What did she say?" Son:"She's not back there." Dad:"What do you mean she's not back there?"
I don't know exactly what else was said, but it then took them about another ten minutes to find a place to cross over and go back the other way, to the truck stop. When they got back to the truck stop, Dad says,"Go in and get your mama." Son: "I'm not goin' in there! You go in and tell her you forgot her!"
So husband comes in, finds me drinking a coke and looking at birdhouses, cheese domes and other fascinating souvenirs in the truck stop gift shop, and says, "hey, honey, did you go out the wrong door again?"
I may have no sense of direction, but so far I have never left a loved one at a truck stop.
My way of giving directions is something like this: start slowing down when you pass by where the old Piggly Wiggly used to be--no, not the new old one that is out on the end of Morton St., that's where the old one moved when it moved from this street--the old one, the one where the Goodwill was after the Piggle Wiggly moved to Morton St., and then it was a tire store--well, anyway, slow down when you get to where the old Piggly Wiggly was, and watch for the house with the bright red door--oh, they painted it purple? I guess I haven't been past there since they painted it. Did they paint the trim to match, or just the door? I always thought the red door with the orange trim was sort of gaudy .... oh yeah, well, after you pass the house that used to have a bright red door,.......well, you probably get the idea.
I like to think that God sometimes gave directions in a similar way-- after you pass the burning bush and themountain where Moses got the stone tablets, it will take you about 40 years to cross the desert, and there you are in the Promised Land. And by the way, don't forget about the Ten Commandments. Of course, there He was much more specific--which is probably a good thing.
I do admit that I have no sense of direction, since any time I go into a building, I am totally lost if I come out a different door. In fact, my husband once took advantage of this weakness, or at least he tried. We were on vacation with our son and daughter-in-law, and three babies under four years old. The babies, DIL, and I were all asleep in the back of the Suburban when husband and son stopped to get gas (we left on our journey at some ungodly hour well before dawn, as is usual with my husband--two hours on the road, and then we might stop for breakfast). I got out, looked at son, who was pumping gas, and said,"I'm going inside to use the restroom." When I came out, no Suburban was in sight. So I went back in, walked through the whole truck stop, and went out the other door. Still no suburban. So I walked all the way around the truck stop, just to be sure I was not overlooking a black Suburban (sort of like not seeing a tank parked in your yard). Son later told me the part of the trip to which I was not a witness. About 30 minutes down the highway, Dad says, "Where do you want to stop for breakfast?" Son says," I don't care." Dad says, "Ask Mama." Son turns around to look in the back, then turns back around without saying anything. Dad says, "What did she say?" Son:"She's not back there." Dad:"What do you mean she's not back there?"
I don't know exactly what else was said, but it then took them about another ten minutes to find a place to cross over and go back the other way, to the truck stop. When they got back to the truck stop, Dad says,"Go in and get your mama." Son: "I'm not goin' in there! You go in and tell her you forgot her!"
So husband comes in, finds me drinking a coke and looking at birdhouses, cheese domes and other fascinating souvenirs in the truck stop gift shop, and says, "hey, honey, did you go out the wrong door again?"
I may have no sense of direction, but so far I have never left a loved one at a truck stop.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Starting a blog
I have had a personal website at geocities since 1998. I didn't design it myself--I had a lot of help, some better, some worse. . . the most I can take credit for is the content--that is, the writing. Other people, who know more than I do about html, whatever that is, added all kinds of graphics, music, pictures, and colors, for which I do not chose to take credit. My daughter Jeana (daystocome) introduced me to the blog concept, and I love the idea of people being able to respond to what I write. After all, writing is a kind of conversation, and if no one responds, how can I know if what they read is what I thought you said? After all, what you thought I said may not be what I meant at all. To get back to daughter Jeana, she helped me name this blog. I sent her a list of possibilities, and she said this one made her laugh, and sounds just like me. As my husband will tell you, I am totally random and abstract. Whereas he is just the opposite, totally sequential and concrete. So we sort of complement each other. Jeana has four young children, and home schools, and is of necessity one of the most organized people I know. I think my mind works sort of like what she calls rabbit trails--I write in more or less stream of consciousness, which is always random, usually abstract, and almost always abstracted--that is, I get side-tracked easily, and forget what my point was. But I usually do have a point, and eventually I remember what it was--most of the time.
I plan to gradually move the contents of my website to this blog, so just imagine what you have to look forward to, if you are still reading.
I plan to gradually move the contents of my website to this blog, so just imagine what you have to look forward to, if you are still reading.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
