Old Dogs Don't Very Often Learn New Tricks

I know a woman who is married to a man with rage. Pity, she's so nice. And even though the old dog she's married to isn't as strong as he used to be - he still bites.

Speaking of old dogs...I remember my sister-in-law had an old dog. One day she and her husband got into a heated argument and the dog bit her quite severely on the ankle. The next day she made an appointment at the vet and had him neautered, nails trimmed and teeth cleaned, all in one visit.

She sure knew how to handle that old dog.

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Joy To The World - Joy To You And Me!

I started the day as I always do. I became conscious at around 5:50 a.m. I am wakened by the little inner clock of an early bird. It's still dark outside so I have no way to gauge what time it is. I move my pillow aside only to see that it's really too early to get up, so I force myself to stay there until six. (Yes, it's only ten minutes, but if you get up too early, you're ready for bed at 7 p.m.) As soon as I stir, the girls; Kia and Maggie, are on their feet and ready to escort me to the kitchen. It's another lovely morning, although still dark outside. First order of business - make coffee. Ah...I love this part of the day. (Is there some way to spell the "screeching halt" sound?) Insert it here.

I hear the garage door go up and in walked my 19 year old son, explaining himself before I can say a word. He fell asleep on his girlfriends couch and they didn't want to wake him, so her FATHER threw a blanket over him. (Do you think I believe that?! I'm a mother, married to a father, there is no way in H___ that a father is going to throw a blanket over his daughter's boyfriend. No way!) Before he can finish stammering, I say, "Were you drinking?" No, he swears. I say whatever...don't do it again.

The coffee is ready and I try to resume my morning ritual as he trails off to bed. (As parents get older, they mellow out; they're tired.)

My other son is in town for a wedding. He flew in last night. I was already in bed when he came home, reclining with my husband, he with his laptop and I with mine. (We're so twenty first century - NOT!) Our son tells us that his back is stiff from traveling. I say, Lay down here and I'll give you a back rub. No, he says, that's o.k. I say, Well, get your p.j.'s on and come back, we'll talk. (He doesn't know how to break it to me) I'm going to Neil's, it's his last night as a bachelor. (He sees my disappointment, even though I'm already drowsy) I told you mom, it's Neil's wedding, I told you it would be like this. Okay, whatever, be careful, I say.

So now it's morning, Andrew goes to bed and Nick is up and waiting for Neil to pick him up. The wedding is today and of course they have to get moving. I ask Nick if he wants an omelet. No, he can't, as he watches the road. He sits and tries to give me a little attention before he goes. (I know it must sound funny, but I do feel a bit bad.) I try to be cheerful and say, "What time will you be home?" He says that he's staying at the hotel over night. I say, For what?! The family has rented a block of rooms. So, again I say, Whatever. Beep, beep...it's Neil. Be careful, I say.

Now I'm feeling not so cheerful, not so happy. Well, I'm no slug, I've got things to do. I decide I'll run my Saturday morning errands and get back early, just spend the day at the house, enjoying myself.

Well, much to my delight I ran across a garage sale while I was out. What a way to turn the day around! I got a turkey taureen and cookie jar in creamy white, the same color as my Pfaltzgraff every day dishes. I had recently looked up "turkeys" and "taureens" on ebay to see if I could get something nice for the Thanksgiving table. I can't believe my luck, and they are only $2.00 each. Both really handsome pieces. I also bought a neat looking green box with a rabbit painted on it - $1.00. It's the same color green as our small antique lamp on the entry table. Cool! It'll take it. There was also a great lamp made of metal; a sphere with an arrow through it. (That will look terrific in Andrew's room or the den!) Before I leave I spy a tall stainless steel magnifying mirror - $2.00! I'm thrilled and back up on the mountain.

Our kids have to grow, leave the nest and make their own decisions. It's hard not making their decisions for them, and letting them think for themselves. They've heard all my advise. Just like the president and his top advisor, I was on the job giving my kids advise - full time. Now it's not needed. Not that I don't feel the need to share all of my accumulative advise with them, they don't feel the need to take it. I guess as their Top Advisor - I've been laid off.

I want to leave you with an up-note, I'm now getting back to some of the things I love, such as crocheting, sewing, arts, crafts, books, and scripture study. Let's not forget the new ventures such as blogging and volunteering. My life is quite busy and changing rapidly, or so it seems. I'm going to be prayerful about all things that concern me, thankful for God's blessings, and rest in the Lord. I won't to let worry or change rob me of the joy that God intended for us to have.

Joy to the world - joy to you and me!

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Fatty McButterpants

Well, it's time to slim down again. I don't know why I lose weight only to turn around and gain it back. Is it considered yo-yo dieting when it's only ten pounds or so? I guess the qualifying piece of evidence; up and down, up and down. I've answered my own question.

My dog Maggie has a good extra ten pounds on her as well. When she is standing, it's not as noticeable, but when she lays down, well, she is sort of sow like. (We all look better when we're standing, right?)

The quest begins to deflate the mid-section. This morning I had a banana and coffee with sugar-free creamer. (I know the creamer is not on any suggested diet menu but I'm not giving that up - it's part of a morning routine that I thoroughly enjoy and look forward to every day.) It's 8:17 a.m. and I just had a piece of Easter Bread, plain, no butter. (Yes, I know, it's not even mid-morning, but a friend made it and gave it to me. How nice! I couldn't refuse, right? I graciously accepted the bread Wednesday evening and now it's Friday morning and I've been chipping away at it. That has to go. It's so wonderfully soft and yummy, yes, that has to go.

I like the thought of exercise, I think about it all the time. I cut out information about it; exercise routines for the arms, the abs, the butt, the legs, you name it. But honestly, I don't like to exercise. I guess most people don't, but not exercising for them, is not an option, they just do it. Isn't that Nike's slogan, JUST DO IT!

So we did it! I put Maggie on a leash and we went for a walk. (We left Kia behind because she's skinny and does not do well on a leash. My husband said that when Maggie and I walked out the door, Kia watched us until we were out of sight. He said she made a sound that could only be considered a mournful cry. How sad, but since she's like having a kangaroo on a leash, we had to leave her behind. My husband, Tim, will work with her so she can be included on the walks someday.

Maggie was as proud and happy as can be to be out on a walk with her mom. She was alert, moved right along, smiling all the way. I suppose the total distance was one mile. For me, a good start. I suppose I should submit "before and after" pictures of she and I. Should I? That would be brave.

If I walk everyday and watch what I eat, no one would be abe to call us a Fatty McButterpants, now will they?

Even though I'm on a diet, I'm including my friends recipe for Easter Bread.
(Don't ask for clarifications - it's one of those old time recipes with scanty directions)


Mom's Easter Bread

2 T. sugar for each egg used
2 T. melted shortening for each egg used
lemon rind from 3 lemons
1 cake yeast melted in about 1/2 C. Milk
5 lbs. flour
1-1/2 dozen eggs

Knead 2 times and let rise overnight. Roll to desired shape and let rise. Brush egg yolk on top. Bake at 350 degrees. Makes 7 rolls.

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Teaching the Girls How To Crochet

Did I mention that I've recently signed up to volunteer some time at a girls home? The only reason I mention this is because one of the girls would like me to teach them how to crochet. (Oh boy)

(I learned to crochet when I was in the eighth grade, a friend of mine showed me how.) I know a few simple stitches. I told the girls to give me a little time to refresh my memory and I would teach them. Well, I went home that evening and immediately set the course to do so. I found some simple instructions; one on how to make a scarf and one for making a dishcloth. I decided that we would make the scarf. (It's September and by the time they finish their scarves, they will be able to wear them. It' already getting chilly here.)

At Jo-Ann Fabrics they had a lovely assortment of yarns. Once there, I immediately had lots of questions concerning how much yarn do I need to make a scarf. The directions stated that I would need one skein. (Is skein a measurement?) There were many different size balls of yarn. I tried to look at the yardage but it quickly became confusing. I tried to poll the other two women who were looking at yarn but they were no more qualified to answer than I was. Finally, I decided on a lovely wool blend yarn that was sort of chunky and contemporary looking, and in the most beautiful array of colors; jewel tones. I bought one in each color, so that the girls could chose a color that excited them and they would all have something different in the end.

Well, I'm the kind of person that gets excited easily and when I'm interested in something, I have to do that thing right then and there. So that evening I begin to make the prototype. I clearly had forgotten how to do it. I started with the chain stitch, my first attempt I made 23 chains, what seemed good to me, and then feverishly began stitching away. I noticed after I had produced a foot of scarf that it was decreasing in width. Apparently, at the beginning of each row I was not starting on the first stitch but rather the second. I also realized that this width was entirely to wide and bulky. Back to the instructions - which suggests 13 chains to start. I tore everything out, corrected my crocheting errors and ended with a lovely scarf but the length was scarcely short of what it should have been. (One skein had produced the equivalent of two tube socks sewn end to end, and when around me neck each end fell just below my collar bone. I believe the article said that each end should reach the belt line. Now I have this lovely piece, that only took me a couple of hours to make but now I need to add on to it. (This is where I could use the advice of a pro) I'm going to buy more yarn and try to add on to what I have. I don't want it to look like a patch work mishap, even though it's a beginner project, I want the finished product to look like a piece of art; something that I will be proud to wear.

For the girls I've decided to take their yarn back and get them something not so bulky, softer, not wool, and more yardage, once again in a gorgeous array of colors.

When I get in moods like this, I just want to stay home and create. In the meantime, I will try to finish my scarf so I have something to show them. That means I must do it today!

I wish I could show the girls a few variations of fringe to add to their finished product to give it a little extra pizazz. Anyone out there have simple/beginner ideas on how to do that? If so, you'll make some girls very happy and put a feather in the cap of their teacher.

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Is Anybody There...Is Anybody There?

Once there was a little girl named Julianna. Her father and mother were young and never married. They, from the beginning, did not seem to possess the needed parental instincts. Their baby was passed from home to home, and from one aunt to another depending on who could take care of her at the time. One day Julianna asked her aunt if she would take her to church. That was the first time our eyes fell upon the delightsome child - she entered the building and twirled down the isle. We all smiled at her Shirley Temple like appearance; the glowing smile and the golden curly locks of hair.

Her aunt's name was Teresa, probably in her early twenties, and even she was beaming at the apparent happiness brought to the little girl by being in church. (Julianna's mother was living in Ohio now, and of her brother, Teresa wasn't quite sure what to say. He was not present in the girl's life or able to help in any way. Teresa was living on her own with a boyfriend and had recently taken in her niece; the little girl who had been passed from house to house since the day she was born.)

None of us will ever forget the words of the young temporary caregiver. She said Julianna wakes up at night and calls out, "Is anybody there? Is anybody there?"

They visited a few times and before you know it, they were gone.

Some people we meet, we will never forget. Whether it be their stories, a few words; or a life that touches us deeply and leaves a lasting impression. We'll never forget Julianna. I think about her every now and then. I bet she is about 19 years old now. I hope she finished high school and looking forward to a bright future. I hope she has a home wherein she feels safe and secure. But most of all, I hope when in those night hours many years ago when she cried out, "Is anybody there? Is anybody there?" God comforted her.

(Psalm 68 "A father to the fatherless...is God in his holy habitation.")

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Fall...My Favorite Time of the Year

Today I drove home from work with the air conditioning off and the windows down. With my arm extended out window and the cool autumn breeze swirling past me, bits of paper taking flight and dancing about the car. The sun is bright, a typical fall day and I put my over sized black sunglasses on. I feel so free and wonderful, like Easyrider without the chopper. Ah...it's good to be alive.

I stopped at Talbot's to make a return. Of course, I see a few things, to say the least, that would spruce up my wardrobe. I envision how fantastic I'll look and decide to try a few things on. For some reason I'm attracted to their Navy blue separates this year and with my arms full the Talbot's clerk offers to unburden me by carrying the first load back and getting a dressing room started. I follow her minutes later with a few more things to throw on the heap and I begin to try things on. I intend not to buy everything, only the pieces I absolutely love. Well girls, guess what, it was one of those days when you try on everything and nothing looks quite right. All this great stuff and I become discouraged almost immediately. Too big, too small, too long, too short...ugh!

My cell phone rings and it's my husband telling me that he can't wait around the house anymore. (Lowe's has a man coming out to replace our old dishwasher with a new one and he wants me to come home right away! His big emergency is that he is going trapshooting - so I have to rush home to oversee the stranger). Okay, I'm not having success anyway, so I thank my attendant and head for home.

Again, the windows are down just as before, sunglasses on, but I'm slightly discontented now. Hakuna Matata (No worries), I'll spring back.

I'm not so discouraged that I am giving up. Fall triggers the desire to buy school clothes even though many years have passed since we have had to do that. Most of us in the northern states still love or feel the need to add to our wardrobe when we see the fall/winter catalogues burgeoning from our mailboxes. (Now is the time to pity those 'who live where the sun always shines'. We got one over on you in this department. I have a friend in FL who has a beautiful winter coat that she takes time to pet once in a while; she never gets to wear it.

Speaking of clothing and winter, I recently heard a joke from a Jeff Foxworthy skit. He claims that Pittsburgh's are the only ones who have to get a Halloween costume that's big enough to fit over their snowsuit. (Laughter) That is a good one! Another poor southern boy who evidently has been deprived of the joy that comes from the change of seasons. He's right though. I remember when my grandfather passed away. The funeral was Oct. 31. We experienced an untimely blizzard. The weather was so bad I didn't think that anyone would come to the funeral home for the viewing, with the exception of family. Weather was no deterrent, thank God, they all came.

Getting back to the desire for new clothes, really, I'd like to start over. Stacy and Clinton, come and get me. (Don't sign me up for that "T", I would have to kill you) Honestly though, wouldn't it be great to have someone help you to buy the clothes that flatter you instead of a closet full of "I missed the mark". My wardrobe is fair, I could do so much better (especially if I had $5000.00 to do it with). In my defense, I have no sweaters with people or dogs on them, I'm not wearing my lingerie outside of the bedroom, and I have nothing that would provoke someone on the street to scream out "Beam me up Scottie." (I'm sure "T" has something in her closet like that. I'm fairly confident that she wouldn't sport it out and about, but who knows. When she sees William Shatner on those Priceline commercials, it may spur a glance toward the closet and a temptation to don one of those get-ups. I'll have to pop in on her when the old re-runs of Star Trek are on and see how quickly she's able to answer the door. Just kidding "T")

I once read an article where a woman transformed her life by getting rid of everything she didn't need. She eliminated almost all of her clothing, only keeping a few pair of pants, a few shirts, a dress or two, just a couple pair of shoes, and so on, with everything in her house. Even down to the pens and pencils, she just kept one or two of each. Actually my mother shared this article with me and as she read our eyes twinkled with unburdened delight at the thought that something like this could be possible. Could we dare to unload even half of the stuff we have acquired? It would be great wouldn't it? I remember George Carlin had a skit where he said something like, 'we get rid of stuff so we can go out and buy more stuff.' Isn't that the truth?

Last year as part of our Ladies' Circle lesson we read in Luke where it says, "He that hath two coats, let him impart to him who hath none." Our little group had a coat drive and donated the proceeds to our local food and clothing bank. (Even with three coats gone and two vests, our closets are still packed full) One woman who donated said she actually only had two coats, and yes, she donated one. I was compelled to stop her, but who am I to rob her of her blessing.

Let's unload, unburden, get rid of, donate, sell, declutter, and then get yourself something nice for fall! I think I'll go back and get that navy sweater!

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I think I'm falling apart or we apologize but your warranty has expired...

I think I’m falling apart. Seriously. I’m not really worried about this. I’ve had a good run so far. I’m relatively healthy. I say relatively only because there are a hundred things that I could employ to make me healthier. And I could make a million excuses but it simply comes down to this one fact. I don’t want to.

To plead my case for being only relatively unhealthy I have a few things to admit. I have never smoked, ever. Nothing. Not even a drag off of someone else’s. I never did drugs, never drank. Seriously, I’m not even lying because I’m afraid someone in cyberspace will be able to come up with my real life identity. I was the kid that never tested their parents sanity, they said don’t do this I said ok. And I had an inordinate fear that God would somehow reveal my transgression to my dad and that would be worse than actually doing whatever I wasn’t supposed to do. At that point I was way more worried about my dad than God, and yes, this has changed since I’ve grown up a bit.

I have always been overweight. Not morbidly overweight, just not thin. When I was younger I read in the Garfield comics that Garfield wasn’t fat he was under tall. I adopted that particular mantra. So, I have a chronic case of under tall. I also heard the word zaftig used to describe a celebrity. I definitely looked that word up and when I got older I adopted that word to describe my body type. I will never be svelte, which is the word I really wish could be my descriptor, but hey, we all have our crosses to bear. At the beginning of this year J decided she needed to lose weight and tried talking me into getting on the dieting band wagon. I resisted for about 2 weeks and then acquiesced. I am still, more or less, on the diet. I say more or less because sometimes a girl just needs chocolate, Cherry Garcia Ice Cream or a really good loaf of bread. Not necessarily in one sitting, but I’m not opposed to the combination.

Back to my original thought of falling apart. Last week I was running late for work and ran out of the house without ingesting any caffeine. Which I really needed, by the way. I was going to stop at the Tim Horton’s near my work to get an Iced Cappuccino (I like cold coffee), however, the drive-thru line was out to the street, and since I was already late I passed on it. But I knew I still needed a caffeine fix. When I got to work I decided to get a Coke out of the pop machine, not what I usually drink in the morning, but any port in a storm. Put my money in, pushed the button, bent over to get my pop and something popped in my back and I was now a walking question mark, which got progressively worse all day. Needless to say I didn’t do much last weekend. My brother-in-law is an exercise physiologist; he prescribed stretching the muscles in my back. I told J I couldn’t even think about that. But Sunday after church he had me on the floor in his living room rolling out my muscles on a huge Styrofoam tube, which was supposed to help me, it did but I looked so ridiculous doing it. I pray I never need to do physical therapy in front of more than just my family.

The back is on the mend thankfully, however, yesterday I left work with a sore throat and this morning I woke up with a neck ache. I’m sure I just slept on it wrong, but it is painful to look to the right. I’m trying to avoid doing that but you can only favor your left side for so long, after awhile you just look weird. All these sudden ailments are just a bit too close together for my own comfort. Hence the opening line of I think I’m falling apart. How old are you before you need to have routine maintenance done? Have I reached that age? What else can I expect to happen? My eyesight is already terrible, my hair is starting to fall out, no not in clumps but there is way more in the bathtub drain than there used to be. J will not have any sympathy for me at all on this point. She feels she is more follicularly challenged than I am. (And yes, I just made up the word follicularly.)

Yes, I could exercise more, but I’d rather not. I try to avoid things that make me sweat. Why couldn’t just one of those infomercials be right? You know the one that claims if you wear the belt it will contract your stomach muscles for you and you get the equivalent of a workout while lying on the couch watching TV. That is the kind of exercising I’d love to do. (“Sorry, I can’t get up right now I’m exercising”)

I thought that I might start rollerblading. I actually do have a pair of roller blades. My little sister heard that and forbid me to engage in that particular activity. She told me I should just start walking I said if I roller bladed I’d get done faster. She clearly doesn’t understand the reasoning of doing exercising but on my terms, she’s worried I’m going to fall and break a hip or something. My brother-in-law was very encouraging; of course, he wanted my sister to join me. Which now that I think about it was probably why she forbid me to do it in the first place.

The reality is I will never choose to exercise over reading a good book, watching a movie, blogging or any other activity that doesn’t require me to raise my heart rate. I know I should. I need to start small and build. Maybe I’ll clean out my fridge, that’s exercising isn’t it? In the meantime does anyone know what liver spots look like?

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Seattle, Washington Here I Come!

I found a great price on airfare through Orbit.com. Wednesday through Wednesday, from Pittsburgh to Seattle and back, for only $250.00. A great price, and so the course was set.

I do not like to leave home for any length of time. I have to leave the dogs and they get so depressed (I hate to disappoint them). My 19 year old still lives at home. He goes to school in the morning and works in the afternoon and into the early evening. Although he is in and out of the house throughout the day, I'm not certain what he'll do for sure. Will he let the dogs out on a consistent basis? Will he invite friends over? (He's not supposed to.) I just have to go away and not worry about any of that stuff. If I did, I'd never go anywhere. Besides, my dad is willing to check on the dogs several times a day and says that he will take care of things, not to worry.(I'm too young to start living like a recluse and so I resign myself to go and not worry) Besides, I can't wait to see Washington and discover what that part of the U.S. looks like. It seems as though it's a world away.

I left home at 4 a.m. to make my 6 a.m. flight. Needless to say, I made it to my gate in plenty of time; no hassles or delay of any kind. At the gate there were lots of people there early, just as I was, chatting, eating breakfast, reading, using their computers/blackberries, etc. I happen to sit back to back with "the talker" of the crowd. My first impression of him is that he would be delightful spouse; happy, just chattering and observing all things in a sort of funny way. From what I could gather, he and his wife, who was there with him, rescues animals and their house is a mess. He left a guy in charge of the animals. This guy, his caretaker, told him that his father-in-law hates him. To this, he tells the crowd, I'd hate him too. (everyone laughs) He goes on to tell what a loser he is, yet feels comfortable leaving everything he owns in his care. Hum? As his chatter continues on for a solid 30 minutes now I begin to reconsider the spouse thing; he never shuts up. (And they say women are bad) He did say something funny though; "Did you know that frogs are dying?" (I perked up for that. Oh no!) Yep, he says, they've been around since the dinosaurs...and they're dying. They figure, we're next, and he bursts into laughter." (I smiled. Was that a joke?)

Anyway, we eventually board a Boeing 767 and the flight was uneventful (thank God). I sat next to a young girl who slept the whole way. She didn't even wake up for the snack and beverage service. I thought about waking her but didn't want to impose. (She was quite plump and I couldn't imagine her wanting to miss out on the cookie) I even thought about getting an extra snack for her but I know myself pretty well, I could very well end up eating mine and hers if she sleeps too long. (Much to my surprise, Delta still serves peanuts and peanut butter crackers during the flight. I was shocked with all the peanut allergies these days) I pass on the extra snack and role of caretaker. Instead, I work on Sudoku puzzles and watch a bit of TV. Halfway through the movie it begins to skip and slur making it impossible to see what's going on. I call for the flight attendant and she refunds my money which is $2.00 for the headset. (Beverages are still free, except alcohol, of course. A snack is still offered, but get a load of this, menus are now available if you would like something more substantial than kibble. If you order from "the big black book", which looks oddly out of place, you pay just as you would at a restaurant. I saw lots of people eating their breakfast before they boarded, me included.) As soon as the flight attendant walks away, the movie resumes and is fine but I seemed to have missed the most important part. Now it didn't seem to make any sense at all.

I arrive in Seattle without a hitch. Even the plane change in Atlanta was nothing. I had 45 minutes to change planes there. Delta was on time and when I arrived at the other gate, they were boarding and we were off again in no time. (Get out there, fearful travelers! It's fine. You can do it!)

Washington is a beautiful state (What little of it I saw). I used to watch a show on television called Northern Exposure. That's what it reminds me of. There's a big sky, lots of timber (pine trees), mountains and water. It's really very lovely.

I visited my daughter, her husband and two grand-doggies. I often went to bed early and worked on the computer (checking the blog, e-bay, e-mail, craigslist, and playing games. Before you know it I'd be tired and ready to sleep. Sounds exciting, huh? To me it was a great luxury to do nothing but relax and enjoy my daughter. It took me a few days to get adjusted to the time change, they are three hours behind us. We woke up and enjoyed the morning with coffee, sitting on porch, or watching another episode of "How Clean Is Your House?" The houses to which Kim and Trudy visit are so incredibly filthy and unkept, that it is impossible to look away as they scrape up a bit of crud with a fingernail for inspection or smell the kitchen sponge. (It's on the BBC. No one lives like that in America, do they?)We went out to eat a few times, enjoying the local fish, we shopped, and went to garage sales and flea markets. What did I find? Well, I love old rolling pins. Now I have a collection. What do they say? One is a possession, two is a collection and three is an obsession. How fun! I found a great old rolling pin that's large and heavy. It looks like oak. The only reason I would buy something like that and be willing to transport it back home is that it was unusual. I don't know how to describe how it's put together except to say that instead of nails or screws or any type of metal mechanism to hold it together, it has small wooden wedges on the end of each handle. Very unique and a real gem! As I was shelling out the money for that one, a deal for $10.00, another vendor is calling to me saying that he has a great rolling pin too. He says his is prettier and has green handles. I explain that I will be flying home in a few days and doubt that I will have room in my suitcase to take much back. With that he offers me his rolling pin for $2.00. I couldn't resist. She's probably quite common and not very old, maybe from the fifties, but I snatch her up and she's mine.

If you've followed my blogs, I love old books as well, particularly old religious books. I found one called "Wickedness in Modern Society." I fall in love with it at a glance and hope that what's inside rivals the title. I glance through it and know it will provide for some interesting reading. (The wickedness the author speaks of is not the atrocities and lewdness that have unfortunately have become quite common in our day and time, but it's more about drinking, lying, profanity and such. You know, the things that most people see nothing wrong with today.) This book; this treasure, is not for me, (I have to keep saying that). "It's not for me, it's not for me...." T's birthday was in July and I had taken her out to lunch but never hit on anything that seemed fitting as a gift for my good friend. I felt she would love this old book and that too went into the bag. I imagine for a moment her teaching a lesson on modesty, for example, and saying, "And now I will read a quote from Wickedness in Modern Society", 1891.)Ah, I amuse myself.

Next we came upon a guy who had a whole bunch of brand new hand tied flies, for fly fishing, of course. I bought 6 for my son. In hind sight I wish I would have offered him $20.00 for the whole lot, I bet he would have taken it. The last thing I bought was a hoot. It was an old ceramic bank that looked like a pile of cigarette butts and a skeleton trying to crawl out from underneath them. Fabulous! (I think my 25 year old smokes.) I call my daughter over and ask whether I should buy it for him. We laugh and she says it will probably just make him mad. We decide it's far too neat to give to him, he may not appreciate it. I decide to put it in his room and when he comes home for a visit, he can look at it there.

Ahhh...the simple joys of life. My visit there was like one big visit to the spa or a great massage. I left there feeling very happy. My daughter and her husband are quite content with each other and their new surroundings. They have two crazy dogs that are a constant source of laughter and fun. Mothers all across the world know that when their kids are happy, then they are happy.

On a serious note before I left there I encouraged my daughter, Eva, to study the scripture and gave her some tips on ways to do that. One way to study, I told her, was to pick a topic and then really study it. She and Dan could do it together. Pick a topic, give yourselves a week to find what you can on the subject, learn as much as you can so that you could teach a lesson on it and then come together and present what you've amassed. It's fun and it's interesting. It's also part of our service to God. Matt.11:29 "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me..."

She was quiet but I felt good, as though my advise was received well. Much to my delight she called me the other day to tell me that she chose a study topic and it was that of pearls. She was surprised at all the mention of precious gems in the scripture. There were some negative mention of pearls, and of course, common scriptures such as don't cast your pearls before swine and the pearl of great price. She said the funniest thing happened that day, Aunt Pearl called. That would be her great grand-mother's youngest sister, the last remaining sibling. I think she's 85 now. The amazing thing is that Aunt Pearl has never called Eva. Eva was surprised at the co-incidence and after sharing this little blessing with Pearl, I think they both felt warm inside; as though it was meant for them to talk that day and a confirmation of her efforts. (What a nice way for God to say, Keep up the good work, my child. Study my word!)

What a blessing for me as her mother to know that she is applying herself to the good things in life. Not the things beneath, but the things that are above. Thank you God! I thank you sincerely, with all my heart.

Next Sunday she is going to study the word "goat". I'll be sure not to call then.

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Fall

I love fall. I always have. I may be alone in this (although I believe that J shares this affinity) but I love the cool weather that signals the start of autumn. I like watching the leaves turn their amazing colors at this time of the year. I am by no means a gardener, but I can appreciate the beauty of it. I loved starting school, the buying of school supplies and even now I feel the pull of buying paper, pencils, crayons and the like, I try to content myself with one purchase but I could easily buy a cart full of stuff. There is nothing like the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil or a new box of crayons. What can I say I have simple tastes.

I know there are many that look on this time of the year with something akin to dread, but I never have. I realize that for some this signals an end of something. And, of course, that is true. Harvest time, an end of the planting season, school, an end of long days of leisure. The land begins its preparation for its winter slumber. But I can’t help be moved by the beauty of this time of year. In Michigan, where I live, we sometimes skip right from winter to summer and back again, but when we have a real fall, I revel in it. This week we’ve had a bit of a cold snap in the mornings, which after a summer of 80 and 90 degree weather is a welcome change for me.

I’m also a fan of the foods associated with this time of the year, sadly. I say sadly because if I let myself I could really pack on the pounds. I am trying to remain vigilant in that respect but when I’m faced with fresh cider and hot donuts my willpower begins its slow descent into non-existent. Let’s not even talk about caramel apples and pumpkin pie.

I guess for me I’ve never really viewed fall as an end. This was always a time of new beginnings in some respect. New classes, new supplies, a new season. Which makes me consider the fact that certain situations are simply what we make of them. I am trying to learn that lesson, that how I perceive something will shade my attitude toward it. Viewing things with apprehension and dread will certainly manifest itself as such. Looking at life with eyes that see possibility instead of defeat can only improve my outlook. I fail miserably at this often, but I find myself wanting to do better, to be better.

So, as the summer ebbs slowly into fall, my hope is to be more attuned to those around me, less self absorbed, to put those good examples I see every day into practice. And I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m too old to buy a new box of crayons.

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First day of school...

As did most children, my soon-to-be 4 year old niece started preschool yesterday. Now this is not necessarily an unusual event, many, many children her age start preschool, and she is definitely ready. She is the youngest of my sister’s 5 children. Yes, 5 children, a girl, 2 boys and then 2 girls. I tried to get her to stop after the first two, my reason being she had one of each it wasn’t like she could have a different kind. Of course, now, there isn’t one you would wish she didn’t have; they are all unique and wonderful in their own way.

When my oldest niece started school 13 years ago, I began a tradition which still stands today. Every year just before school begins I take the kids that are in school to the shoe store and buy them new sneakers of their choice. The deal was they’d get a pair of shoes from me until they graduated high school; my oldest niece just graduated and has since “aged-out.”

Honestly, I don’t think too much about this process. I know the kids look forward to it with anticipation. They know that this one time price is not an object, and they roam the aisles of the shoe store looking for their choice. I should say they have never taken advantage of me and don’t go looking for $100 shoes, which is why I don’t mind doing this little treat for them. I just show up with my check book. Getting back to my original thought, which is my almost 4 year old niece, Faithie. This should have been her year too. As my oldest niece aged-out she would be coming in to replace her. The difference here is that my niece Faithie has had Spina Bifida since her birth.

So this year was the year I actually thought about the shoe buying process when I realized that Faithie really wouldn’t be joining the other kids in this yearly rite of passage. Because of this disease we’ve grown to accept, she sits in a wheel chair and due to different muscle issues doesn’t wear shoes. I am not normally a very emotional person, but I found myself crying like a baby at this realization.

Now before you think that this post is going to be full of tears and regret, this is not my intention. Faithie knows no other way. She is unconcerned for the most part about shoes or things she is missing. When she got her first wheelchair we were more worried about it than she was. She took to it immediately and was zooming around the house looking at and reaching things she never could from her constant floor crawling. There was some concern that she would be brain damaged when she was born, happily that is not the case. She is a bright, articulate, happy, almost 4 year old that has an amazing retention of animal names. I always joke with my sister that she’s the smartest kid she’s got, of course I never say that around the other kids, what kind of an aunt do you think I am?!? :)

Yesterday was her first day of school and as her slightly over protective aunt I was concerned about how she would do. I prayed that it would be a good, positive experience for her. When I talked to my sister later in the day she assured me that she loved it. My sister and brother-in-law met her at school that morning, Faithie rode the bus, they stayed around a bit making sure she was ok with the whole first day thing. After about 10 minutes my sister told her “Ok, we’re going to go home now and we’ll see you after school, ok?” Faithie said, “You’re leaving?” My sister said, “Yes, we’ll see you at home.” Faithie replied, “Ok, you go have some fun.” She turned back to the class and that was it. My sister’s boys were never this easy. They always cried when she left.

She came home on the bus and had a wonderful first day. She knows all the names of her teachers, the bus driver, and the kids she rides the bus with. She was thrilled with her new back pack and her Hello Kitty lunch box. She was raring to go this morning.

I think about her outlook on life and wonder what it will be. Will she feel regret at not being able to do things or will she never look back and simply do whatever she sets her mind to. I like to think it will be the latter. Sometimes I forget to look at each day the way she does, a new adventure. As adults we get bogged down with trials and problems that exhaust us. That really isn't how I want to go through this life, but sometimes it's difficult to shake it off. I hope Faithie's attitude never, ever changes and I hope I can take a page from her book and remember to have some fun.

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