About a week ago, Wick and I returned from a Caribbean cruise. If you have never been on a cruise, start saving right now, and go on one. We love the whole experience.
A whole week of being pampered, eating gourmet food, never having to do dishes or make up the bed or clean the bathroom, sitting in the shade on deck with a good book, watching the deep deep blue ocean and the dolphins playing in the waves, and making new friends.
We fall quickly into the routine, eating breakfast at the buffet, snacking in the bistro on the promenade deck, playing Trivia of all sorts, exploring the various venues.
Each evening, we dress for dinner, and later go to the theater for some kind of show or entertainment.
On the last evening, we arrived early, as usual, to find good seats. A man I had never seen sat down in the seat next to me. A little later, he was joined by a man and a woman, and they fell into conversation. I couldn't help overhearing their discussion, filled with questions about electric scooters and electric wheel chairs. Since I have both, I uncharacteristically butted in on their conversation, and tried to answer some of their questions.
One thing led to another, and they began to confide about the man's wife, who is the woman's sister. She had been ill the whole cruise. After a few questions, Wick and I looked at each other. Her symptoms sounded so familiar: just like the symptoms I had three years ago. congestive heart failure. We talked a little before the show, then in more depth afterward.
After hearing what we had to say, they agreed that their family member was really sick, worse than they had imagined, and made plans to get her off the ship in a wheel chair, and then take her to the emergency room.
We offered to pray for them, and gave them our phone number with a request to let us know how she fared.
A couple of days ago, the husband called to tell us that when they arrived at the ER, she was rushed to surgery to have a liter of fluid drained from her pericardium, the sac that surrounds the heart. She was indeed suffering from heart failure, and is still in the hospital undergoing tests to determine the best course of treatment.
All of us agreed that God led us to sit side by side that night before the show, and to share our story. The husband feels that without our input, he might not have insisted that his wife seek treatment so quickly, since she was denying that anything was really wrong, even though she could hardly walk, and could not breathe lying down.
Even on a vacation, even on a cruise ship, God is in control, and can use us to help others. How thankful we are that He led us to those seats, and opened our hearts to share with this family. As Wick said, it hit us in the face without warning. At least this family knew ahead of time how bad things might be, and were able to get her to treatment.
Entertaining angels unawares...
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Book Review: WhenBad Things Happen to Good Knitters
Some time ago, (no, I won't say how long, it's too embarrassing) the Taunton Press sent me an exam copy of this book to review. I think it was because I had posted about knitting, and how much I respect the old crafts, knitting, crochet, quilting, embroidery.
Somehow, the book disappeared under a pile of other books, and just recently came to light again. In my house, this is a common occurence, since books are to be found in every room, on shelves, in stacks, or open face down in a chair.
The complete title is When Bad Things Happen to Good Knitters: An Emergency Survival Guide, by Marion Edmonds and Ahza Moore.
It's a handy little volume filled with all kinds of rescue advice, beginning with a chapter on emergency prevention.
It is well organized, with clear illustrations for how to retrieve dropped stitches, various methods of finishing, and all kinds of other knitting emergencies.
The one thing I did not like was the choice of pale green for Section headings. They are difficult to read for me.
This is not a book for beginning knitters. The authors assume some basic knowledge of knitting. So if you are just learning how to knit, there are better instructive books out there. But if you have basic knitting skills, this book can tell you how to overcome almost any error you might make.
I am barely above beginner knitter, and have only made things shaped like squares (for an afghan) or rectangles (baby blankets). I taught myself to knit from a book while pregnant with our first child. With this book as a companion, maybe I will spread my wings and try something a little more complex.
Even for an experienced knitter, this book has advice to offer, especially for someone who does not have a companion knitter to help resolve issues such as (mis)reading a pattern, or what to do if the sleeve of the sweater has somehow sprouted from the chest instead of the shoulder.
I recommend this book for knitters of any level.
Note: I do not receive any remuneration for this review, or for subsequent purchases of the product.
Somehow, the book disappeared under a pile of other books, and just recently came to light again. In my house, this is a common occurence, since books are to be found in every room, on shelves, in stacks, or open face down in a chair.
The complete title is When Bad Things Happen to Good Knitters: An Emergency Survival Guide, by Marion Edmonds and Ahza Moore.
It's a handy little volume filled with all kinds of rescue advice, beginning with a chapter on emergency prevention.
It is well organized, with clear illustrations for how to retrieve dropped stitches, various methods of finishing, and all kinds of other knitting emergencies.
The one thing I did not like was the choice of pale green for Section headings. They are difficult to read for me.
This is not a book for beginning knitters. The authors assume some basic knowledge of knitting. So if you are just learning how to knit, there are better instructive books out there. But if you have basic knitting skills, this book can tell you how to overcome almost any error you might make.
I am barely above beginner knitter, and have only made things shaped like squares (for an afghan) or rectangles (baby blankets). I taught myself to knit from a book while pregnant with our first child. With this book as a companion, maybe I will spread my wings and try something a little more complex.
Even for an experienced knitter, this book has advice to offer, especially for someone who does not have a companion knitter to help resolve issues such as (mis)reading a pattern, or what to do if the sleeve of the sweater has somehow sprouted from the chest instead of the shoulder.
I recommend this book for knitters of any level.
Note: I do not receive any remuneration for this review, or for subsequent purchases of the product.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Once Upon a Time
Is anyone else watching this show? Someone recommended it to us. I didn't think Wick would like it, but he is as intrigued as I am.
If you haven't seen it, the show is based on the idea of taking familiar fairy tale characters and putting them in a town in our world, which seems to be the UNreal world, and the Magic Forest is the REAL world.
A few liberties have been taken with the characters as previously known, but by and large, they are true to their fairy-tale counter-parts.
So....okay, we have Snow White, who is looking for her Prince Charming, who seems to be married to someone else, but maybe she is not real, and maybe their memories have been magically altered.
We have Emma who came to Storybrook in search of the son she gave up for adoption, who just happens to have been adopted by the Evil Queen, who apparently controls all the characters in Storybrook.
Rumpelstiltskin is just as unattractive as in the fairy tales, living in Storybrook as Mr. Gold. But we get a back story to explain why he became wicked and evil.
Henry, the biological son of Emma, has a book of fairy tales, and has assigned character equivalents to each of the people in Storybrook.
I just reread this, and am not sure if it makes sense or not.
We are hooked on the show, and tivo it every week. I grew up reading fairy tales, and loving them, so I guess that explains my obsession with it.
What I can't really figure out is why Wick likes it. He is normally the logical, sane, sequential one of us, while I am totally random and abstract.
Whatever the reason, we enjoy it.
Try it; you might like it.
If you haven't seen it, the show is based on the idea of taking familiar fairy tale characters and putting them in a town in our world, which seems to be the UNreal world, and the Magic Forest is the REAL world.
A few liberties have been taken with the characters as previously known, but by and large, they are true to their fairy-tale counter-parts.
So....okay, we have Snow White, who is looking for her Prince Charming, who seems to be married to someone else, but maybe she is not real, and maybe their memories have been magically altered.
We have Emma who came to Storybrook in search of the son she gave up for adoption, who just happens to have been adopted by the Evil Queen, who apparently controls all the characters in Storybrook.
Rumpelstiltskin is just as unattractive as in the fairy tales, living in Storybrook as Mr. Gold. But we get a back story to explain why he became wicked and evil.
Henry, the biological son of Emma, has a book of fairy tales, and has assigned character equivalents to each of the people in Storybrook.
I just reread this, and am not sure if it makes sense or not.
We are hooked on the show, and tivo it every week. I grew up reading fairy tales, and loving them, so I guess that explains my obsession with it.
What I can't really figure out is why Wick likes it. He is normally the logical, sane, sequential one of us, while I am totally random and abstract.
Whatever the reason, we enjoy it.
Try it; you might like it.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
On a Winter's Day
All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray.
The lake reflects the pewter color of the sky. Brown leaves carpet the ground, with here and there a maple leaf glowing golden yellow as candle light, or red, scarlet, crimson as a small ember.
Yesterday afternoon, one brave bunny ventured out of his snug, fur-lined nest, and promptly got chased by the dogs for his trouble. One lone squirrel uncoiled from the eiderdown soft comfort of his bushy tail, and chittered at us as we walked by.
It's been raining for two days, non-stop. Slow, soaking rain, just what we need in the time of drought. The lake is up a few inches, which is encouraging.
From the windows that run across the back of the cabin, we can see the spot where paper-white narcissus cast their sweet fragrance in spring. Further along, daffodils will lift their golden trumpets, and the spear-tipped leaves of the iris will herald their purple and white blooms, showing their velvety throats as they blossom.
From this cold, dark, wet landscape life will erupt in just a few months. Perhaps we, too, need a time of cold to reflect, to meditate, to realize how blessed we are, and how much we will have to offer, when spring comes again.
The lake reflects the pewter color of the sky. Brown leaves carpet the ground, with here and there a maple leaf glowing golden yellow as candle light, or red, scarlet, crimson as a small ember.
Yesterday afternoon, one brave bunny ventured out of his snug, fur-lined nest, and promptly got chased by the dogs for his trouble. One lone squirrel uncoiled from the eiderdown soft comfort of his bushy tail, and chittered at us as we walked by.
It's been raining for two days, non-stop. Slow, soaking rain, just what we need in the time of drought. The lake is up a few inches, which is encouraging.
From the windows that run across the back of the cabin, we can see the spot where paper-white narcissus cast their sweet fragrance in spring. Further along, daffodils will lift their golden trumpets, and the spear-tipped leaves of the iris will herald their purple and white blooms, showing their velvety throats as they blossom.
From this cold, dark, wet landscape life will erupt in just a few months. Perhaps we, too, need a time of cold to reflect, to meditate, to realize how blessed we are, and how much we will have to offer, when spring comes again.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Numbering My Days
So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.--Psalm 90:12
Three years ago this week, I was released from hospital after nearly two months, facing 4 months of physical therapy and rehab to learn to walk again.
I had just been told that I was permanently disabled, and would never work again.
I was struggling with who I am now, since I am not at all who I was. For months, I struggled with physical limitations, and loss of identity. I didn't know myself any more.
I could not understand why God had not taken me home, when I begged for death. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do, when I couldn't teach any more?
I still don't have a definitive answer to those questions. I have, however, learned that even though I don't understand, I accept His wisdom. I may never know for sure the reason, if there is just one.
I am learning to see the humor in my life again. I have regained most of my mental acuity. I have been given opportunities to use my teaching skills in small, less-taxing situations other than the classroom.
My grandchildren have availed themselves of my sewing, crochet and knitting skills. My children have told me that I am an important resource for them, because of things I remember, and abilities I have taught them.
Now that Wick is retired too, we are finding new depths of our relationship, new ways to express what has been there all along, but we were sometimes too busy to notice.
We are living full-time at the lake. We have found a new church home. Our relationship with our Lord is growing deeper and broader each day.
Only God the Father knows when our days on this earth shall end. I am satisfied that He knows the number of hairs on my head, the number of beats of my heart, the path that He would have me follow.
He has remodeled my heart from four times its normal size to the size it is supposed to be.
And He has remodeled my spirit to accept whatever may come, because He holds me safe under His wings.
I don't know where I will be a year from now; I just know that wherever it is, He will be with me.
I had just been told that I was permanently disabled, and would never work again.
I was struggling with who I am now, since I am not at all who I was. For months, I struggled with physical limitations, and loss of identity. I didn't know myself any more.
I could not understand why God had not taken me home, when I begged for death. Why was I still here? What was I supposed to do, when I couldn't teach any more?
I still don't have a definitive answer to those questions. I have, however, learned that even though I don't understand, I accept His wisdom. I may never know for sure the reason, if there is just one.
I am learning to see the humor in my life again. I have regained most of my mental acuity. I have been given opportunities to use my teaching skills in small, less-taxing situations other than the classroom.
My grandchildren have availed themselves of my sewing, crochet and knitting skills. My children have told me that I am an important resource for them, because of things I remember, and abilities I have taught them.
Now that Wick is retired too, we are finding new depths of our relationship, new ways to express what has been there all along, but we were sometimes too busy to notice.
We are living full-time at the lake. We have found a new church home. Our relationship with our Lord is growing deeper and broader each day.
Only God the Father knows when our days on this earth shall end. I am satisfied that He knows the number of hairs on my head, the number of beats of my heart, the path that He would have me follow.
He has remodeled my heart from four times its normal size to the size it is supposed to be.
And He has remodeled my spirit to accept whatever may come, because He holds me safe under His wings.
I don't know where I will be a year from now; I just know that wherever it is, He will be with me.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Christmas Weekend Menus
Whenever we get together with our kids and grandkids, food is a primary concern. It's also a cooperative venture, with all three couples contributing. Some of the grandkids are also now making and bringing their own contributions.
Our plan is to meet at our daughter's Friday night, and be together until Monday morning.
Here is what we plan to eat:
Friday night: chili and cornbread--Jeana
Our plan is to meet at our daughter's Friday night, and be together until Monday morning.
Here is what we plan to eat:
Friday night: chili and cornbread--Jeana
Fixins: Jamie
Saturday breakfast: pancakes (make batter night before, cook as people get up) Syrup-Jamie, bacon Mom & Dad
lunch/dinner: Turkey (Mom and Dad frying the turkey)
dressing, mac and cheese, green beans--Jeana Corn casserole, fruit salad and relish tray-Jamie
Supper: leftovers; meat, cheese and cracker platter, raw veggies and dip (Mom & Dad)
Sunday morning: breakfast casserole--Jeana
lunch: ?? work on leftovers?? Mom is bringing beefy vegetable casserole and a cheese ball; Chips and dip-Jamie
supper: enchiladas--Jeana
spanish rice and beans--Jamie
Jamie will also bring sour cream and extra cheese as toppings, we will bring drinks and lots of
snacks.
Mom and Dad are also bringing banana bread, apple muffins, chocolate chip cookies, Heath bar cookies, and chocolate chocolate chip cookies, and sugar free cheesecake.
Latest bulletin: Jeana has bronchitis, a carry-over from Katoushka's bout with it during Thanksgiving, which I then took home with me, and passed on to Wick. So we may have to freeze everything, and postpone until Jeana is feeling better.
The date on the calender doesn't matter; being together is what is important.
We found a crate of games in the barn, so we will spend a good bit of time sorting through those, and deciding what to keep and what to trash, and then the great debate about what we are actually going to play.
Some of us are hooked on Settlers of Catan, so I'm sure there will be a Settler's tournament. Then maybe chicken foot, which all of us can play at the same time, or a scrabble tournament, or maybe Risk.
Doesn't matter much what we play; we always have a great time. The trash-talking, teasing, singing badly, and family stories will make new memories to go with the ones we already have.
Mom and Dad are also bringing banana bread, apple muffins, chocolate chip cookies, Heath bar cookies, and chocolate chocolate chip cookies, and sugar free cheesecake.
Latest bulletin: Jeana has bronchitis, a carry-over from Katoushka's bout with it during Thanksgiving, which I then took home with me, and passed on to Wick. So we may have to freeze everything, and postpone until Jeana is feeling better.
The date on the calender doesn't matter; being together is what is important.
We found a crate of games in the barn, so we will spend a good bit of time sorting through those, and deciding what to keep and what to trash, and then the great debate about what we are actually going to play.
Some of us are hooked on Settlers of Catan, so I'm sure there will be a Settler's tournament. Then maybe chicken foot, which all of us can play at the same time, or a scrabble tournament, or maybe Risk.
Doesn't matter much what we play; we always have a great time. The trash-talking, teasing, singing badly, and family stories will make new memories to go with the ones we already have.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Christmas is for Family
Last Saturday, we met with my extended family to celebrate Christmas.
My parents had four kids. All four of us married, and had among us 11 kids. All 11 have married, and had kids.
The current count is 54, with several couples still in the child-bearing years, so that number may go up.
Obviously, too big a crowd for anyone's house, so we met at the community center where my folks live.
For years, we all congregated at my mama's house on every occasion, and often just to visit. Her house was Family Central. But we finally had to concede there were just too many of us for her house. My folks now live in a one-bedroom apartment, and there are no large gatherings there, although we try to visit at least once a month.
With so many of us, even a whole day is never enough to visit with everyone as I would like to.
But with phone calls, e-mails, and facebook, we manage to stay in touch, to keep track of the important events in everyone's lives.
All of this to say, after all, Christmas started with one family. A man who took a wife who was already pregnant, and the Child who was born to them on that night so long ago.
That Child came to save us from our sins, and our Father God says we are adopted into His family, brothers and sisters to Christ, co-inheritors of the Kingdom.
So, brothers and sisters, a very merry Christmas to you all.
My parents had four kids. All four of us married, and had among us 11 kids. All 11 have married, and had kids.
The current count is 54, with several couples still in the child-bearing years, so that number may go up.
Obviously, too big a crowd for anyone's house, so we met at the community center where my folks live.
For years, we all congregated at my mama's house on every occasion, and often just to visit. Her house was Family Central. But we finally had to concede there were just too many of us for her house. My folks now live in a one-bedroom apartment, and there are no large gatherings there, although we try to visit at least once a month.
With so many of us, even a whole day is never enough to visit with everyone as I would like to.
But with phone calls, e-mails, and facebook, we manage to stay in touch, to keep track of the important events in everyone's lives.
All of this to say, after all, Christmas started with one family. A man who took a wife who was already pregnant, and the Child who was born to them on that night so long ago.
That Child came to save us from our sins, and our Father God says we are adopted into His family, brothers and sisters to Christ, co-inheritors of the Kingdom.
So, brothers and sisters, a very merry Christmas to you all.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Our Chihuahuas
This was Cassie's first major family holiday. She was a bit overwhelmed.
In the photo above, I am holding Sissy, our shy baby. Wick is holding Cassie, who has a black muzzle, as if she has been into the chocolate pudding.
She did not get into any pudding or pie, but tasted every crumb that dropped on the floor.
Our daughter has a large Golden Retriever, Emma, and two cats: Boots and Spencer. Our son has a Boston Terrier named Oreo. Cassie wanted to play with all of them.
Some were more enthusiastic than others.
The cats stared, hissed, and finally ambushed her. They never touched her, but to hear her shrieks, one would have thought she was being skinned alive.
Emma wanted desperately to play. But one little pat from a paw as big as Cassie's head sent her rolling across the floor.
Oreo is bouncy and playful, and a bit closer to Cassie and Sissy's size, but still big enough to send either of them sprawling with one mis-aimed leap.
They mostly played with each other, as they do at home, slept in their bed by my feet as we played Settlers of Catan, and did their best to charm bits of turkey and ham from unwary family members.
Sissy spent as much time as she could wheedle out of me, sitting in my lap with her head tucked under my arm, shivering if anyone else spoke to her or touched her.
After three days with 14 people, four dogs, and two cats, Sissy was doing her happy dance as soon as we got inside our house. Cassie ran around excitedly, sniffing to see that everything was exactly as she had left it.
They are sleeping the sleep of exhaustion as I write, snuggled together under their fleece blankets, noses still twitching at the scent of the left-overs we brought home.
They have no idea that in a month, we will be doing it all over again for Christmas.
Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Thanksgiving Menu
Since I posted about my myriad lists, I thought I would share our menu for the upcoming Thanksgiving gathering.
We are gathering at Jeana's. Mom and Dad means Wick and me.
Wed night: lasagna, salad and bread (Jeana)
We are gathering at Jeana's. Mom and Dad means Wick and me.
Wed night: lasagna, salad and bread (Jeana)
Thursday:
Breakfast casserole (Jeana)
Lunch: sandwiches, BBQ smokies (Jeana)
chips with Rotel dip (Mom)
Supper: Turkey, Dressing, Rolls, Mac and Cheese, Green Beans, Pumpkin Pie (Jeana)
deviled eggs, pecan pie, fruit salad (Jamie)
Veggies and Dip (Mom)
Friday:
Breakfast (Dad)
Late lunch: Ham, Mashed Potatoes, Rolls (Jamie)
Sweet Potatoes, Roasted Veggies, Cranberry Salad, Apple Pie, Gingersnaps (Jeana)
Broccoli Casserole (Mom)
Dinner: leftovers
pimento cheese for sandwiches (Mom)
Sat: Breakfast (Dad)
leftovers again, banana pudding
Sunday: pumpkin bread before church
And here is the list of stuff we still need from the grocery store:
For the roast vegetables:
And here is the list of stuff we still need from the grocery store:
For the roast vegetables:
broccoli
yellow squash
tomatoes (cherry or grape)
For the cranberry salad:
For the cranberry salad:
1 bag fresh cranberries
4 apples
4 oranges
For the banana pudding:
For the banana pudding:
vanilla wafers
sweetened condensed milk
cream cheese
cool whip
For the coffee, which we drink from morning til night:
For the coffee, which we drink from morning til night:
flavored coffee creamer (I like pumpkin or cinnamon sugar cookie right now, but pick something you like.)
For the big Pipaw breakfast the kids expect whenever we get together:
eggs
bacon
sausage
biscuits
grits
Yes, there will be gravy. A tub full of gravy.
pancake mix for Sat.
I baked today for Sunday's breakfast:
Pumpkin muffins
Pumpkin bundt cake
Banana walnut bread
banana walnut muffins
Chocolate banana chocolate chip muffins
Two loaves choc. banana choc. chip bread
The reasoning here is that Sunday morning will be hectic, trying to get everyone ready for church, bathed, dressed, fed, and still in our right minds, so all these bread-like substances will be easy to grab and go out the door.
As my late Mother-in-law would have said, we will have enough food to feed Cox's army!
Six adults, four girls, and four teenage boys.
Too much food? Not enough? Everybody has their favorite thing that we just have to have. When we all still gathered at my mama's, the crowd grew to 54 people. We can't have quite the variety that we had then, with everyone bringing something different, but we do try to include the traditional dishes we all love.
The extended family finally conceded that 54+ people was just too many for one person's house, so now we gather at the clubhouse where my folks live. But by getting together with our kids and grandkids, we are keeping alive the tradition of maintaining family ties, allowing enough time to really visit, to play games, to luxuriate in being with the people we love best.
In the words of the old hymn:
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known;
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing;
Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.
For the big Pipaw breakfast the kids expect whenever we get together:
eggs
bacon
sausage
biscuits
grits
Yes, there will be gravy. A tub full of gravy.
pancake mix for Sat.
I baked today for Sunday's breakfast:
Pumpkin muffins
Pumpkin bundt cake
Banana walnut bread
banana walnut muffins
Chocolate banana chocolate chip muffins
Two loaves choc. banana choc. chip bread
The reasoning here is that Sunday morning will be hectic, trying to get everyone ready for church, bathed, dressed, fed, and still in our right minds, so all these bread-like substances will be easy to grab and go out the door.
As my late Mother-in-law would have said, we will have enough food to feed Cox's army!
Six adults, four girls, and four teenage boys.
Too much food? Not enough? Everybody has their favorite thing that we just have to have. When we all still gathered at my mama's, the crowd grew to 54 people. We can't have quite the variety that we had then, with everyone bringing something different, but we do try to include the traditional dishes we all love.
The extended family finally conceded that 54+ people was just too many for one person's house, so now we gather at the clubhouse where my folks live. But by getting together with our kids and grandkids, we are keeping alive the tradition of maintaining family ties, allowing enough time to really visit, to play games, to luxuriate in being with the people we love best.
In the words of the old hymn:
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known;
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing;
Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.
May all of you, my dear friends, have a most happy Thanksgiving!
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Making Lists
Holy Mama asked if anyone else is a list maker. My hand went up immadiately.
Lists.
Do I have lists.
Grocery list for today, for this week, for stocking up, and for “when I feel especially rich.” Which hasn’t happened yet, but might someday, if we ever win the lottery.
A list of what I need to cook with for Thanksgiving, a list of things I am going to cook, a list of stuff I will make if I have time/feel like it.
A list of menus for Wed. through Sunday, showing what Jeana is making, what Jamie is making, what Wick is making, and what I am making. With an attached list of explanatory notes.
A list of stuff I have been meaning to take to Jeana, Jamie, the grandkids.
And a list of what needs to be loaded into the car now, tomorrow, and on the day. And a list of bedding to take. This is beginning to overwhelm me; I had no idea I had so many lists.
The great advantage of making lists is that at least I will know what I was supposed to do, what I was too tired to do, and what I forgot to do.
But making lists makes me feel as if I have already accomplished something, even though all I have actually done is make lists.
Lists.
Do I have lists.
Grocery list for today, for this week, for stocking up, and for “when I feel especially rich.” Which hasn’t happened yet, but might someday, if we ever win the lottery.
A list of what I need to cook with for Thanksgiving, a list of things I am going to cook, a list of stuff I will make if I have time/feel like it.
A list of menus for Wed. through Sunday, showing what Jeana is making, what Jamie is making, what Wick is making, and what I am making. With an attached list of explanatory notes.
A list of stuff I have been meaning to take to Jeana, Jamie, the grandkids.
And a list of what needs to be loaded into the car now, tomorrow, and on the day. And a list of bedding to take. This is beginning to overwhelm me; I had no idea I had so many lists.
The great advantage of making lists is that at least I will know what I was supposed to do, what I was too tired to do, and what I forgot to do.
But making lists makes me feel as if I have already accomplished something, even though all I have actually done is make lists.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Rainy Afternoon
We are still in the midst of a drought, according to statistics, which indicate we are shy 20 inches of rain for the year.
Our county and those around us have been under a burn ban for months.
But this afternoon, it rained.
The back wall of our cabin is windows, about 25 feet of windows, looking out onto the lake. It is so beautiful to watch the rain as it starts on the other side of the lake, and gradually moves over the water, like the Spirit of God moving over the face of the deep.
Both our front and back porches have tin roofs, so we enjoy a symphony of rain falling on the tin and running down the ridges, dripping off into the earth. The lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, and we cuddle with our chihuahuas under a hand-made quilt, and watch the blessed rain pour down from heaven.
Let us praise His name for His goodness endures forever.
Our county and those around us have been under a burn ban for months.
But this afternoon, it rained.
The back wall of our cabin is windows, about 25 feet of windows, looking out onto the lake. It is so beautiful to watch the rain as it starts on the other side of the lake, and gradually moves over the water, like the Spirit of God moving over the face of the deep.
Both our front and back porches have tin roofs, so we enjoy a symphony of rain falling on the tin and running down the ridges, dripping off into the earth. The lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, and we cuddle with our chihuahuas under a hand-made quilt, and watch the blessed rain pour down from heaven.
Let us praise His name for His goodness endures forever.
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
What a difference three years makes
Three years ago today, I was in hospital, recovering from surgery for four abdominal abcesses, and expecting to go home by the weekend.
Little did I know that I was just beginning a two-month marathon stay in hospital.
And another surgery.
And kidney failure from a bad reaction to the contrast dye.
And a diagnosis of congestive heart failure, with a heart four times normal, and a projected demise within 10 months, if nothing changed, or I didn't get a heart transplant.
And losing about a pound a day, because I couldn't eat much, and couldn't keep down what little I ate.
And four months of physical therapy.
And having to take disability retirement, or being in a wheelchair and then a walker and now a cane.
But I also didn't anticipate the outpouring of prayers and love from family, friends, friends of friends, and churches and people I had never met.
Or the constant comfort of Bible verses memorized in childhood and teen-age years, speaking of the love and care of God the Father.
Or the way our marriage relationship knit ever closer.
Or the tremendous sacrificial care I would receive from our children and grandchildren.
Or the strong unwavering sense that God kept me here for a purpose, even though I am still not sure what that purpose is.
God is good, all the time.
Little did I know that I was just beginning a two-month marathon stay in hospital.
And another surgery.
And kidney failure from a bad reaction to the contrast dye.
And a diagnosis of congestive heart failure, with a heart four times normal, and a projected demise within 10 months, if nothing changed, or I didn't get a heart transplant.
And losing about a pound a day, because I couldn't eat much, and couldn't keep down what little I ate.
And four months of physical therapy.
And having to take disability retirement, or being in a wheelchair and then a walker and now a cane.
But I also didn't anticipate the outpouring of prayers and love from family, friends, friends of friends, and churches and people I had never met.
Or the constant comfort of Bible verses memorized in childhood and teen-age years, speaking of the love and care of God the Father.
Or the way our marriage relationship knit ever closer.
Or the tremendous sacrificial care I would receive from our children and grandchildren.
Or the strong unwavering sense that God kept me here for a purpose, even though I am still not sure what that purpose is.
God is good, all the time.
Monday, October 17, 2011
More Photos
Here we are with our Sunshine, at a football game, during half-time. Isn't she just adorable?
This the quilt I made for Pie for graduation from high school. It is made of jerseys and t-shirts from her club soccer years. Now, each of the other six grandchildren want one. So I will be doing a lot of quilting over the next few years.
Actually, they don't all want t-shirt quilts. Katoushka has already said she wants an Irish Chain pattern, in green and white, the colors of the university she plans to attend. Buddy and Sunshine do want t-shirt quilts. He graduates next year. Sunshine and Katoushka graduate the next year. I better get my sewing stuff organized.
I guess I should explain that these are not my gradchildren's real names.
Pie is the oldest, and in college, on a soccer scholarship.
Buddy is next, a junior who plays left tackle on the football team our son and my brother coach.
Then Katoushka and Merideth, who are just 3 months apart, currently in 10th grade.
Next is A-man, then Lolly, and last but not least, Big D.
K. and L. play piano, and A. and D. play violin. They are our daughter's kids, and are home schooled.
The nicknames are based on the pet names I have used for them since they were babies.
Their parents want to preserve as much of their privacy as possible, so I don't use their real names.
They are my babies, and my darlings, and we love them immensely. In them we relive our own children's childhood, and through them we glimpse our future. We are so blessed.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Frogs and Rabbits and Other Lakeside Creatures
During this drought filled summer, we have seen more little rabbits than ever. When I take Sissy and Cassie out after dark, they are everywhere, their little white powder puff tails almost glowing white in the security lights.
They gather mostly in our neighbor's yard, because he waters and his grass is lush and green, unlike ours, which crunches like shredded wheat underfoot.
When we come out, they freeze in place, unmoving, except for their wiggly little noses, which twitch furiously as they attempt to identify our alien scents. Their long ears quiver, as they wait to see if we are going to approach or move away. When the chihuahuas finally notice them, of course, they feel compelled to alert the whole neighborhood, inciting all the other dogs to bark and howl furiously.
As the pandemonium mounts in intensity, the rabbits break free from their freeze, and scatter into the shadows, disappearing in an instant.
Most of the frogs we see are dead and dried little mummies, their tiny bodies lying in the sandy soil, victims of the drought.
The dogs seek out these tiny corpses, rub their faces on them, or pick them up to carry around until they finally drop them elsewhere.
As the lake dries up, the small critters are disappearing. We didn't see a single brood of baby ducks this summer. The frogs are running out of shallow water in which to breed.
We help as we can. We keep the hummingbird feeder filled with sweet nectar; we put our fruit and vegetable parings out behind the back porch for the rabbits, who devour them almost before I get back in the door. We keep the bird feeder full for the jays, sparrows, wrens, robins, cardinals and blue birds.
We can't do anything about the frogs or the ducks or the geese, except hope that eventually, when the lake returns, so will they.
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
They gather mostly in our neighbor's yard, because he waters and his grass is lush and green, unlike ours, which crunches like shredded wheat underfoot.
When we come out, they freeze in place, unmoving, except for their wiggly little noses, which twitch furiously as they attempt to identify our alien scents. Their long ears quiver, as they wait to see if we are going to approach or move away. When the chihuahuas finally notice them, of course, they feel compelled to alert the whole neighborhood, inciting all the other dogs to bark and howl furiously.
As the pandemonium mounts in intensity, the rabbits break free from their freeze, and scatter into the shadows, disappearing in an instant.
Most of the frogs we see are dead and dried little mummies, their tiny bodies lying in the sandy soil, victims of the drought.
The dogs seek out these tiny corpses, rub their faces on them, or pick them up to carry around until they finally drop them elsewhere.
As the lake dries up, the small critters are disappearing. We didn't see a single brood of baby ducks this summer. The frogs are running out of shallow water in which to breed.
We help as we can. We keep the hummingbird feeder filled with sweet nectar; we put our fruit and vegetable parings out behind the back porch for the rabbits, who devour them almost before I get back in the door. We keep the bird feeder full for the jays, sparrows, wrens, robins, cardinals and blue birds.
We can't do anything about the frogs or the ducks or the geese, except hope that eventually, when the lake returns, so will they.
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Pictures I Should Have Posted
I have already blogged about these subjects, but never posted pictures. So herewith I offer you, from the top:
Mother and Pa
Son and grandson on the football field
Our front door
Our back porch
I have tried five times to upload a picture of us with our cheerleader granddaughter, but failed. Sigh.
I never said I was a computer whiz.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Fires Contained--For Now
The latest report is that, barring a rising wind, the fires in East Texas are contained. Not out. Just contained.
30,000 acres burned to a cinder in Marion County alone. Many homes, barns, fields and pastures now dry, black, and smoking. A 20 yr. old woman and her 18 month old baby dead in Smith County.
Other parts of our country are flooded. Texas needs rain desperately.
Thank you for prayers for the safety of our loved ones. Please continue to pray for rain, so that the still-blistering ground can cool down, and some of the ashes be washed away.
30,000 acres burned to a cinder in Marion County alone. Many homes, barns, fields and pastures now dry, black, and smoking. A 20 yr. old woman and her 18 month old baby dead in Smith County.
Other parts of our country are flooded. Texas needs rain desperately.
Thank you for prayers for the safety of our loved ones. Please continue to pray for rain, so that the still-blistering ground can cool down, and some of the ashes be washed away.
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
Wildfires in Texas
I don't know if y'all are following the news about the wildfires that seem to be consuming Texas. Our son and family live in deep East Texas, and are subject to evacuation any time, and Pie's boyfriend and his whole extended family had to evacuate last night--the fire is within two miles of their homes.
We have been praying all night for them, and I covet your prayers as well.
Without rain, and in a drought so severe that our trees look like they are dying, the fires are very difficult to contain. We need rain desperately.
Seeing this kind of tragedy on the nightly news is bad enough. But now, it has a face--the faces of the ones we love.
We are trusting our loving God to keep our loved ones safe.
We have been praying all night for them, and I covet your prayers as well.
Without rain, and in a drought so severe that our trees look like they are dying, the fires are very difficult to contain. We need rain desperately.
Seeing this kind of tragedy on the nightly news is bad enough. But now, it has a face--the faces of the ones we love.
We are trusting our loving God to keep our loved ones safe.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Grits: That's What's for Breakfast
If you are not fortunate enough to be from the South, or live in the South, you may never have encountered the (mostly) breakfast dish called grits.
We Southerners love our grits. No self-respecting Southerner would ever make instant grits. We cook grits until they are creamy, smooth, lump-free. Then we add plenty of butter, a little salt, and a sprinkle of black pepper, and dig in.
You can eat grits alone. Or you can eat grits as part of a big ol' breakfast platter.
I love grits with fried eggs over easy. I like the way the golden yellow yolk runs into the grits, and I love sopping it up with toast.
I have no problem with a little of that skillet gravy slopping over onto the grits; I just sop that up with a biscuit.
Sausage is good with grits. So is ham. And bacon, of course.
Some people add a little syrup over their sausage, or pancakes, and like for the syrup to run into the grits. I don't care for syrup on my grits, but hey, if they like it, I am fine with it.
What I do not like is grits with sugar. You can put sugar on oatmeal, or cream of wheat, or whatever other kind of hot cereal you like. You can add it to your cold cereal, even your frosted flakes. I don't mind. But sugar on grits is just not right.
What brings all this up is that Wick and I had breakfast at the Shed, in Chandler, last Saturday. The Shed is an East Texas legend, and serves up all kinds of down-home cooking, but what we like best to eat there is breakfast; we ordered fried eggs with runny yolks, biscuits with gravy, and a side of sausage, with a big bowl of grits.
As we were waiting for our food, we saw a couple at the next table. She had grits with lots of butter, and salt and pepper. He, however, was pouring sugar on his grits.
Not just a little sugar. A lot of sugar. As in, about an inch of sugar topping his grits, so much sugar that when he stirred, the sugar ran over the side of the bowl.
He must have put half a cup of sugar on his grits. We stared in amazement.
Then we looked at each other, and started laughing, and saying, "did you see that??"
"what was he doing??"
When we finally stopped laughing, I said, " Well...what I say is...if you don't like grits, don't order grits, and then ruin them with sugar."
Next time you go to the store, get you some grits. Go home and cook you up a big pot. Add plenty of real butter, and some salt and pepper. While you are at it, cook you up some sausage and fried eggs and buttered toast. Enjoy.
And if you have plenty left over, I can give you some recipes for great stuff to do with left-over grits.
Just don't add any sugar.
We Southerners love our grits. No self-respecting Southerner would ever make instant grits. We cook grits until they are creamy, smooth, lump-free. Then we add plenty of butter, a little salt, and a sprinkle of black pepper, and dig in.
You can eat grits alone. Or you can eat grits as part of a big ol' breakfast platter.
I love grits with fried eggs over easy. I like the way the golden yellow yolk runs into the grits, and I love sopping it up with toast.
I have no problem with a little of that skillet gravy slopping over onto the grits; I just sop that up with a biscuit.
Sausage is good with grits. So is ham. And bacon, of course.
Some people add a little syrup over their sausage, or pancakes, and like for the syrup to run into the grits. I don't care for syrup on my grits, but hey, if they like it, I am fine with it.
What I do not like is grits with sugar. You can put sugar on oatmeal, or cream of wheat, or whatever other kind of hot cereal you like. You can add it to your cold cereal, even your frosted flakes. I don't mind. But sugar on grits is just not right.
What brings all this up is that Wick and I had breakfast at the Shed, in Chandler, last Saturday. The Shed is an East Texas legend, and serves up all kinds of down-home cooking, but what we like best to eat there is breakfast; we ordered fried eggs with runny yolks, biscuits with gravy, and a side of sausage, with a big bowl of grits.
As we were waiting for our food, we saw a couple at the next table. She had grits with lots of butter, and salt and pepper. He, however, was pouring sugar on his grits.
Not just a little sugar. A lot of sugar. As in, about an inch of sugar topping his grits, so much sugar that when he stirred, the sugar ran over the side of the bowl.
He must have put half a cup of sugar on his grits. We stared in amazement.
Then we looked at each other, and started laughing, and saying, "did you see that??"
"what was he doing??"
When we finally stopped laughing, I said, " Well...what I say is...if you don't like grits, don't order grits, and then ruin them with sugar."
Next time you go to the store, get you some grits. Go home and cook you up a big pot. Add plenty of real butter, and some salt and pepper. While you are at it, cook you up some sausage and fried eggs and buttered toast. Enjoy.
And if you have plenty left over, I can give you some recipes for great stuff to do with left-over grits.
Just don't add any sugar.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Rain!
Yesterday, we were in Tyler all afternoon, and it rained! The temp dropped from 105 to 77, there was lightning, and rain, blessed rain, fell for about half an hour.
It was only about a tenth of an inch total, but how wonderful it felt, falling rain, cooler temps (at least for a little while), and what a relief from the 60 days of 100 plus temperatures.
Thank you, Lord!
It was only about a tenth of an inch total, but how wonderful it felt, falling rain, cooler temps (at least for a little while), and what a relief from the 60 days of 100 plus temperatures.
Thank you, Lord!
Monday, August 22, 2011
Will It Ever Rain Again? summer 2011
It is hot. The hottest summer in years. And the driest.
107 this afternoon, and nearly 60 days of over 100 degree temps.
No rain.
A couple of days ago, for about 5 minutes, we heard the sound of light rain falling on our roof and the trees. Not enough to really even get the cars wet.
But a breath of cooler air.
And a promise that rain will come again.
107 this afternoon, and nearly 60 days of over 100 degree temps.
No rain.
A couple of days ago, for about 5 minutes, we heard the sound of light rain falling on our roof and the trees. Not enough to really even get the cars wet.
But a breath of cooler air.
And a promise that rain will come again.
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