January 23, 2009
Won't someone take this stone from my chest?
The weight of it threatens to crush my ribs.
But first cut away my hair where someone is pulling it and take away the vice that is fracturing my skull.
As long as you are removing the stone from my chest, please catch the frog in my heart which makes it flip up and down. And dissolve the concrete around my hip joints which make walking seem like slogging through mud.
I need to breathe.
To breathe without fear. Without worry. Without concern.
To do so implies a lack of caring, a lack of concern, the implication that I don't care. I do care.
Too much.
I always care too much.
To care less would make me callous.
To me.
And it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I have to live with myself. If I am overly empathetic then I am. It is part of what makes me, me.
So I will shove the stone off my chest and take a deep breath. I will pull my hair into a bun and stop the pushing and pulling.
Due to the amount of caffeine I imbibe, the frog may have to stay.
But I must accept that this is who I am.
It is neither my job nor my nature to hold it in.
Therefore I shall scream my frustration. I shall shout my objection. I shall vomit my frog and the burning in my stomach.
Hopefully, on Sunday.
Afternoon.
When he has already gone, but remains Ever Vigilant.
Won't someone take this stone from my chest?
The weight of it threatens to crush my ribs.
But first cut away my hair where someone is pulling it and take away the vice that is fracturing my skull.
As long as you are removing the stone from my chest, please catch the frog in my heart which makes it flip up and down. And dissolve the concrete around my hip joints which make walking seem like slogging through mud.
I need to breathe.
To breathe without fear. Without worry. Without concern.
To do so implies a lack of caring, a lack of concern, the implication that I don't care. I do care.
Too much.
I always care too much.
To care less would make me callous.
To me.
And it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I have to live with myself. If I am overly empathetic then I am. It is part of what makes me, me.
So I will shove the stone off my chest and take a deep breath. I will pull my hair into a bun and stop the pushing and pulling.
Due to the amount of caffeine I imbibe, the frog may have to stay.
But I must accept that this is who I am.
It is neither my job nor my nature to hold it in.
Therefore I shall scream my frustration. I shall shout my objection. I shall vomit my frog and the burning in my stomach.
Hopefully, on Sunday.
Afternoon.
When he has already gone, but remains Ever Vigilant.
January 22, 2009
My mom sent me a message today.
We're supposed to stifle the tears, to not cry when my brother leaves for Iraq on Sunday. The sight of us crying is too hard for him.
She might as well have asked me to jump over the Grand Canyon.
I cry now. I can't help it.
Pushing the feelings so deep inside they threaten to spring back up at any moment is all I can seem to manage. Pushing that hard is going to have repercussions and I know it. I feel it.
I cannot begin to imagine how my brother is functioning, watching his girls, especially his baby girl, 9 years old, grieve for their father who hasn't left yet. His wife. Dear God please hold her in Your arms.
My parents must be ready to climb the walls. I was in a deep depression when Steven went back to Japan after visiting for two weeks. He wasn't in the middle of a war zone.
I'm just the sister. The sister whose pride overwhelms, whose tears threaten at a moments' notice. He is my only brother. The only one I ever want. But I want us to grow old together. To swap grandchildren stories.
How can I not cry when I clasp his broad shoulders for the last time before he leaves? When I hear his gruff voice tell me to 'be good'.
I can't.
So I'll have to give him a choice. See me one last time and tolerate the tears or not see me and know how much I love him. It's about what's easiest for him, not what's easier for me.
My mom sent me a message today.
We're supposed to stifle the tears, to not cry when my brother leaves for Iraq on Sunday. The sight of us crying is too hard for him.
She might as well have asked me to jump over the Grand Canyon.
I cry now. I can't help it.
Pushing the feelings so deep inside they threaten to spring back up at any moment is all I can seem to manage. Pushing that hard is going to have repercussions and I know it. I feel it.
I cannot begin to imagine how my brother is functioning, watching his girls, especially his baby girl, 9 years old, grieve for their father who hasn't left yet. His wife. Dear God please hold her in Your arms.
My parents must be ready to climb the walls. I was in a deep depression when Steven went back to Japan after visiting for two weeks. He wasn't in the middle of a war zone.
I'm just the sister. The sister whose pride overwhelms, whose tears threaten at a moments' notice. He is my only brother. The only one I ever want. But I want us to grow old together. To swap grandchildren stories.
How can I not cry when I clasp his broad shoulders for the last time before he leaves? When I hear his gruff voice tell me to 'be good'.
I can't.
So I'll have to give him a choice. See me one last time and tolerate the tears or not see me and know how much I love him. It's about what's easiest for him, not what's easier for me.
January 19, 2009
I cannot be the only person in America who, on the eve of the inauguration of our first black president, is thinking of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Of Rosa Parks.
Of countless slaves.
But also foremost in my mind is a girl named Lisa.
When I was growing up in a small town in Texas, attending Stephen F. Austin Elementary School, I was in a nearly entirely white classroom. There was one black girl named Lisa.
I was too young to be aware of the scope and meaning of racism, but I wasn't too young not to notice how badly Lisa was treated.
On many occasions, I distinctly remember feeling "lucky" that I was born white and not black. I remember feeling sorry for her because people treated her badly because of the color of her skin. To me, I just as easily could have been born black, with black parents, and would be being treated badly, too.
But I was "lucky".
My mother let me have a Valentine's Day party and I invited all the girls in my class, including Lisa. I remember that she came, and she is in photos of the affair. I think my mother made a point of speaking with her mother, which was hard considering that she had a room full of excited girls in their dresses. Lisa had on a dress that was just as pretty as everyone else's.
I was proud that we invited her. Proud that she came. And I suppose in that moment I became aware that racism was a choice.
Here, some 35+ years later, Dr. King's dream is about to be a reality.
I sincerely hope that tomorrow, Lisa feels lucky. I hope we all feel lucky.
I cannot be the only person in America who, on the eve of the inauguration of our first black president, is thinking of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Of Rosa Parks.
Of countless slaves.
But also foremost in my mind is a girl named Lisa.
When I was growing up in a small town in Texas, attending Stephen F. Austin Elementary School, I was in a nearly entirely white classroom. There was one black girl named Lisa.
I was too young to be aware of the scope and meaning of racism, but I wasn't too young not to notice how badly Lisa was treated.
On many occasions, I distinctly remember feeling "lucky" that I was born white and not black. I remember feeling sorry for her because people treated her badly because of the color of her skin. To me, I just as easily could have been born black, with black parents, and would be being treated badly, too.
But I was "lucky".
My mother let me have a Valentine's Day party and I invited all the girls in my class, including Lisa. I remember that she came, and she is in photos of the affair. I think my mother made a point of speaking with her mother, which was hard considering that she had a room full of excited girls in their dresses. Lisa had on a dress that was just as pretty as everyone else's.
I was proud that we invited her. Proud that she came. And I suppose in that moment I became aware that racism was a choice.
Here, some 35+ years later, Dr. King's dream is about to be a reality.
I sincerely hope that tomorrow, Lisa feels lucky. I hope we all feel lucky.
January 18, 2009
Mei Mei is dressing up in honor of her uncle going to Iraq.
MeiMei watches sissy carefully for a bite of cheese.
MeiMei is ready to accompany the navy and do her part to bring joy to the sailors.
Mei Mei is dressing up in honor of her uncle going to Iraq.
MeiMei watches sissy carefully for a bite of cheese.
MeiMei is ready to accompany the navy and do her part to bring joy to the sailors.
January 12, 2009
There's nothing quite as pleasing of late as getting on Facebook and finding people I went to school with showing up in droves, all with different lives, changed, yet unchanged. It is a surprise gift that has made me very happy.
I wrote at length about friendship recently. In watching Boston Legal, one of the characters made a comment about friends we put on the shelf, but when we take them down, they are just as we left them. Their point was that it was a bad thing, but when you take time out to raise children, time slips away. Now, for many of us, our children are growing up if not grown and we are finding one another again.
It's been a gift. A true gift.
I'm due to have lunch with a very dear friend tomorrow. A friend I haven't seen in far too long, but who is as dear to me as any friend I have. I'm praying the snow will hold off so that I can get my lunch in.
But my best friend on this earth is my husband. He is so far beyond what I deserve, yet he feels I am worth the trouble. In this day and age where husbands (or spouses) leave one another at the drop of a hat, I am looking forward, God willing to our 25th wedding anniversary. We began dating the week before I turned sixteen, so we've been together almost twice as long as we were apart.
I pray that God allows us so much more time together, and the good sense to appreciate one another.
There's nothing quite as pleasing of late as getting on Facebook and finding people I went to school with showing up in droves, all with different lives, changed, yet unchanged. It is a surprise gift that has made me very happy.
I wrote at length about friendship recently. In watching Boston Legal, one of the characters made a comment about friends we put on the shelf, but when we take them down, they are just as we left them. Their point was that it was a bad thing, but when you take time out to raise children, time slips away. Now, for many of us, our children are growing up if not grown and we are finding one another again.
It's been a gift. A true gift.
I'm due to have lunch with a very dear friend tomorrow. A friend I haven't seen in far too long, but who is as dear to me as any friend I have. I'm praying the snow will hold off so that I can get my lunch in.
But my best friend on this earth is my husband. He is so far beyond what I deserve, yet he feels I am worth the trouble. In this day and age where husbands (or spouses) leave one another at the drop of a hat, I am looking forward, God willing to our 25th wedding anniversary. We began dating the week before I turned sixteen, so we've been together almost twice as long as we were apart.
I pray that God allows us so much more time together, and the good sense to appreciate one another.
January 11, 2008
As you can see we have a new background and template for the site. I felt that after all these years, it was time for a change.
Some things never change, though perhaps our perspective on them does.
Take a broken heart for example.
The very phrase "broken heart" brings to mind the romantic type. Most of us have experienced that type and while it is not fun, we generally can go on, eventually, to get our hearts broken multiple times before settling down with the one who, by definition as a spouse, isn't supposed to break our heart.
There's the literal broken heart which often leads to the metaphorical one when the broken heart cannot be fixed, or leads to death. I remember when my husband's grandfather died, he went suddenly and the shock of the suddenness was overwhelming. The same was true of my own grandfather, though he'd had a couple of "warning" heart attacks ahead of time.
The broken heart of losing a loved one, particularly a child, as was experienced by a well known celebrity this week...that is a kind of broken heart I cannot imagine one ever getting past.
But I experienced a new kind of broken heart this week.
As many of you know, my brother leaves for Iraq soon. Our hearts alternate between being broken and paralyzing fear. It hits me out of no where sometimes and I burst into tears. I do not know how my sister-in-law is getting through each day except that she has a strength of spirit and soul that I could never hope to attain.
I found out today that my baby niece, who isn't a baby, she's 9, finally had her meltdown last night. It finally 'hit' her that her daddy was going to war.
"Why did they have to pick you?" she wanted to know. Her questions were no different from ours. But far more heartbreaking because this small girl is a brilliant, savvy kid and far too 'with it' for her own good. She can read the news, she will turn on the tv and she will watch for news from Iraq. I know her.
And she is incredibly sensitive, not just as in "a sensitive child", but as in sensitive to the vibrations going on around her. She sees the worried looks, the long faces, and she knows that we all are afraid, just like every military family who puts on the brave face is, deep inside.
I'd told her that she could call me any time, day or night and last night about ten o'clock, I found a voice mail on my phone from her. She asked me to call her "immediately". Of course, I looked at the clock and wasn't about to call her at that hour.
Then today I found out about her meltdown, I realized that she probably needed me and I wasn't there. I cannot get in the habit of carrying my cell phone in my pocket. I'm going to have to do it.
Now I have told her to call my youngest son, who always has his cell phone with him, if she can't get me and that he will get me immediately.
That seemed to make her feel better today when I finally returned her call. She didn't tell me what she'd really called about, but her mother and father were in the room, so I understood.
I'll have to make the effort to do something special with her while Mom and Dad are on their cruise. They will be leaving the week after my brother which will be especially hard on my nieces, given that they are with my parents every day after school. Maybe Donna can find someone to drop her at my house after school.
If you'd keep this little girl and her family in your prayers, I would appreciate it. Difficult times are coming.
As you can see we have a new background and template for the site. I felt that after all these years, it was time for a change.
Some things never change, though perhaps our perspective on them does.
Take a broken heart for example.
The very phrase "broken heart" brings to mind the romantic type. Most of us have experienced that type and while it is not fun, we generally can go on, eventually, to get our hearts broken multiple times before settling down with the one who, by definition as a spouse, isn't supposed to break our heart.
There's the literal broken heart which often leads to the metaphorical one when the broken heart cannot be fixed, or leads to death. I remember when my husband's grandfather died, he went suddenly and the shock of the suddenness was overwhelming. The same was true of my own grandfather, though he'd had a couple of "warning" heart attacks ahead of time.
The broken heart of losing a loved one, particularly a child, as was experienced by a well known celebrity this week...that is a kind of broken heart I cannot imagine one ever getting past.
But I experienced a new kind of broken heart this week.
As many of you know, my brother leaves for Iraq soon. Our hearts alternate between being broken and paralyzing fear. It hits me out of no where sometimes and I burst into tears. I do not know how my sister-in-law is getting through each day except that she has a strength of spirit and soul that I could never hope to attain.
I found out today that my baby niece, who isn't a baby, she's 9, finally had her meltdown last night. It finally 'hit' her that her daddy was going to war.
"Why did they have to pick you?" she wanted to know. Her questions were no different from ours. But far more heartbreaking because this small girl is a brilliant, savvy kid and far too 'with it' for her own good. She can read the news, she will turn on the tv and she will watch for news from Iraq. I know her.
And she is incredibly sensitive, not just as in "a sensitive child", but as in sensitive to the vibrations going on around her. She sees the worried looks, the long faces, and she knows that we all are afraid, just like every military family who puts on the brave face is, deep inside.
I'd told her that she could call me any time, day or night and last night about ten o'clock, I found a voice mail on my phone from her. She asked me to call her "immediately". Of course, I looked at the clock and wasn't about to call her at that hour.
Then today I found out about her meltdown, I realized that she probably needed me and I wasn't there. I cannot get in the habit of carrying my cell phone in my pocket. I'm going to have to do it.
Now I have told her to call my youngest son, who always has his cell phone with him, if she can't get me and that he will get me immediately.
That seemed to make her feel better today when I finally returned her call. She didn't tell me what she'd really called about, but her mother and father were in the room, so I understood.
I'll have to make the effort to do something special with her while Mom and Dad are on their cruise. They will be leaving the week after my brother which will be especially hard on my nieces, given that they are with my parents every day after school. Maybe Donna can find someone to drop her at my house after school.
If you'd keep this little girl and her family in your prayers, I would appreciate it. Difficult times are coming.
January 10, 2009
Friends. The very word brings forth the memory of the television series which showed us what supposed friends were like.
I don't think so.
I think there are several measures of true friendship.
True friends do not forsake you.
There are friends you can go weeks, months, or years without seeing and then pick up where you left off as though you'd never been apart.
Then there are those with whom you were close and after some time has passed you have difficulty making small talk because your lives have become so disparate. But you still know they'd do anything for you if they could.
Friends do not purposely ignore one another, especially in times of need. Friends are those you know you could call in the middle of the night and they would be by your side as fast as humanly possible. Of course, being a good friend, you wouldn't call them except in a most dire extreme emergency.
Friends do not try to poke at you, to prod a response, to make you irritated or annoyed or worse. Not real friends.
Real friends want what is best for you, even when you don't know what is best for yourself.
Real friends stand by and watch you make a mistake and are there to pick up the pieces, even though they told you so.
Real friends are there waiting even when you completely ignore them for other things.
But at some point, you must draw a line. You must go on.
You grow as a person and friendships change. Your need for a different type of friendship evolves.
But true friends remain.
Friends. The very word brings forth the memory of the television series which showed us what supposed friends were like.
I don't think so.
I think there are several measures of true friendship.
True friends do not forsake you.
There are friends you can go weeks, months, or years without seeing and then pick up where you left off as though you'd never been apart.
Then there are those with whom you were close and after some time has passed you have difficulty making small talk because your lives have become so disparate. But you still know they'd do anything for you if they could.
Friends do not purposely ignore one another, especially in times of need. Friends are those you know you could call in the middle of the night and they would be by your side as fast as humanly possible. Of course, being a good friend, you wouldn't call them except in a most dire extreme emergency.
Friends do not try to poke at you, to prod a response, to make you irritated or annoyed or worse. Not real friends.
Real friends want what is best for you, even when you don't know what is best for yourself.
Real friends stand by and watch you make a mistake and are there to pick up the pieces, even though they told you so.
Real friends are there waiting even when you completely ignore them for other things.
But at some point, you must draw a line. You must go on.
You grow as a person and friendships change. Your need for a different type of friendship evolves.
But true friends remain.
January 9, 2008
Watching children learn the lessons of life can be one of the hardest things to do. You want to help them to avoid being hurt, to point them in a certain direction, even though they are bound and determined to go in another. Inevitably, they have to make their own mistakes in order to learn, just as we did.
By the time you get to the third child, you learn that lesson, and try to step back and simply be ready when they ask. Answer honestly when they do. And you put the names of little girls/boys who break your child's heart on a list and you scowl at them.
My oldest son has complained that some girls say he is "too nice". This will definitely be the problem with my youngest son. Girls tend to like the 'bad boy' complex. C'mon girls. You all know what I'm talking about.
My boys don't seem to have enough 'bad boy' for certain girls, while others who appreciate nice boys are not necessarily the ones they would choose. It's a 'nice boy' syndrome, a reversal.
Daughter's current boyfriend is treating her like a princess. Yes, they've only been dating a few weeks. We'll see if it continues.
Or if all three of them get their hearts broken, and my list of scowlees gets longer.
Watching children learn the lessons of life can be one of the hardest things to do. You want to help them to avoid being hurt, to point them in a certain direction, even though they are bound and determined to go in another. Inevitably, they have to make their own mistakes in order to learn, just as we did.
By the time you get to the third child, you learn that lesson, and try to step back and simply be ready when they ask. Answer honestly when they do. And you put the names of little girls/boys who break your child's heart on a list and you scowl at them.
My oldest son has complained that some girls say he is "too nice". This will definitely be the problem with my youngest son. Girls tend to like the 'bad boy' complex. C'mon girls. You all know what I'm talking about.
My boys don't seem to have enough 'bad boy' for certain girls, while others who appreciate nice boys are not necessarily the ones they would choose. It's a 'nice boy' syndrome, a reversal.
Daughter's current boyfriend is treating her like a princess. Yes, they've only been dating a few weeks. We'll see if it continues.
Or if all three of them get their hearts broken, and my list of scowlees gets longer.
January 7, 2009
You have never seen anyone so very excited to have multiple
needles stuck deep into their back as I was yesterday. Even though the
second half of the back surgery (rhizotomy) was a bit harder than the
first, likely because I am right handed and use that side more, I find
myself sitting up in the bed, quilting madly and feeling well enough to
get up and whip around this room like a tornado, cleaning, putting
things in place, but restricted from doing so due to the "resting" time
after the procedure.
Freedom.
So many days I have spent in this bed, curled in a ball of pain and misery. I couldn't care about mess or tidiness because I was summoning the strength to get to the bathroom with help.
Now, if I wanted, I could walk to any room in my house all by myself.
Freedom.
I received a thank you card from a very dear friend yesterday that made me smile and cry at the same time. She thanked me for the Christmas gift I had given her, but told me that the best gift she received was to see me standing in her living room for the first time in years. I know she was truly,genuinely celebrating this victory that God has given me.
Freedom.
My family is enjoying having me sit in the family room with them instead of them all trying to pack into my bedroom to watch tv at night, or to eat at the foot of my bed so that they could spend time with me.
Freedom.
Soon, with the help of my warriors at Drayers Physical Therapy who have worked by my side, hurting when they see me hurt, celebrating with the least little improvement, soon they will help me build endurance.
Freedom.
Before my oldest son left for Japan for his year abroad, he told me his one wish was that we could all go to DisneyWorld together as a family as we used to when they were small, and that I would be walking at his side like I used to.
For Christmas, I bought him one share of Disney stock, framed it, and made him the promise that we would go. And I *will* walk at his side. I might have to ride in the wheelchair a bit, for that is a *really* big place, but there is a certain section in Epcot that he talked about. I know where it is. That's where he and I will walk, hand in hand together.
Freedom.
Thank you Lord for this miracle.
Freedom.
So many days I have spent in this bed, curled in a ball of pain and misery. I couldn't care about mess or tidiness because I was summoning the strength to get to the bathroom with help.
Now, if I wanted, I could walk to any room in my house all by myself.
Freedom.
I received a thank you card from a very dear friend yesterday that made me smile and cry at the same time. She thanked me for the Christmas gift I had given her, but told me that the best gift she received was to see me standing in her living room for the first time in years. I know she was truly,genuinely celebrating this victory that God has given me.
Freedom.
My family is enjoying having me sit in the family room with them instead of them all trying to pack into my bedroom to watch tv at night, or to eat at the foot of my bed so that they could spend time with me.
Freedom.
Soon, with the help of my warriors at Drayers Physical Therapy who have worked by my side, hurting when they see me hurt, celebrating with the least little improvement, soon they will help me build endurance.
Freedom.
Before my oldest son left for Japan for his year abroad, he told me his one wish was that we could all go to DisneyWorld together as a family as we used to when they were small, and that I would be walking at his side like I used to.
For Christmas, I bought him one share of Disney stock, framed it, and made him the promise that we would go. And I *will* walk at his side. I might have to ride in the wheelchair a bit, for that is a *really* big place, but there is a certain section in Epcot that he talked about. I know where it is. That's where he and I will walk, hand in hand together.
Freedom.
Thank you Lord for this miracle.
January 5, 2009
How can one day pass without me leaving my bedroom/bathroom and yet so much occur?
Steven looked into a loan and talked to the military affairs people at EKU where he'd BETTER NOT join the military. He just wants to take a military history class, which I can understand.
Emily got a concussion at work but fortunately Joel is still staying with her since he can't move back into the dorm until Thursday so he can wake her up and check her pupils.
Sam and I had a good talk and he found a ruler with centimeters so he can finish his Geometry with loci.
I got a little bit of bravery and called to tell Alicia at my vet's office that I would be interested in a job there if they found themselves shorthanded. I have my second rhizotomy tomorrow and I should be able to walk tomorrow for a year! The thought of working only a few hours a week is something I couldn't have even considered for SO many years.
Emily has her VA thing tomorrow at the same time as my surgery. 2:30. If you think of it, say a little prayer.
How can one day pass without me leaving my bedroom/bathroom and yet so much occur?
Steven looked into a loan and talked to the military affairs people at EKU where he'd BETTER NOT join the military. He just wants to take a military history class, which I can understand.
Emily got a concussion at work but fortunately Joel is still staying with her since he can't move back into the dorm until Thursday so he can wake her up and check her pupils.
Sam and I had a good talk and he found a ruler with centimeters so he can finish his Geometry with loci.
I got a little bit of bravery and called to tell Alicia at my vet's office that I would be interested in a job there if they found themselves shorthanded. I have my second rhizotomy tomorrow and I should be able to walk tomorrow for a year! The thought of working only a few hours a week is something I couldn't have even considered for SO many years.
Emily has her VA thing tomorrow at the same time as my surgery. 2:30. If you think of it, say a little prayer.
January 2, 2009
What a lovely day!
My friend and adopted son of a sort, Joel, is 24 today. Emily brought him and her new beau, Shane, over for birthday lunch of pizza and red velvet cake. I gave Joel my favorite gift to give....the DVD set of Firefly. I can't wait until he watches it so we can discuss it together.
Meeting Emily's new boyfriend was very interesting. He reminds me a bit of her father, protective, treating her like a princess, etc. Thus far, I'll give him two thumbs up.
I did give him the pre-requisite talk, however, which goes something like this: "You make her cry, I make you cry." Then Steve chimes in with, "She has to make you cry, I'll be right behind her."
However if what I observed today was any indication, this will not be necessary. He looked serious about her, but not wacko.
I came right out and asked him if he was gay since her gaydar doesn't work very well....it's a long story. He laughed and assured me he was not.
Anyway, after that I had a nap, as I am still fighting that headache.
Sam has gone to a bonfire and to Jimmy's to spend the night and Steven is playing WOW. I'd be jealous if I didn't know that if I still was playing WOW, I'd never get anything done and I'm enjoying accomplishing things. I work on the Celtic quilt in the bedroom as it is easy to see yellow on green, however I have to work on Steven's quilt in the family room because black thread on black material is the dickens to see.
Tomorrow...no special plans, just hoping I can make it to Sam's game. Not holding my breath though. Back surgery next Tuesday. It'll be good, I'm hoping, once I get past the two weeks of healing.
I have the pattern for Mom's quilt all chosen, the material is bought...and it looks JUST like her. I'll just have to choose a little bit of contrasting material that I believe I have in the stash, and we've got it made!
Hurray!
What a lovely day!
My friend and adopted son of a sort, Joel, is 24 today. Emily brought him and her new beau, Shane, over for birthday lunch of pizza and red velvet cake. I gave Joel my favorite gift to give....the DVD set of Firefly. I can't wait until he watches it so we can discuss it together.
Meeting Emily's new boyfriend was very interesting. He reminds me a bit of her father, protective, treating her like a princess, etc. Thus far, I'll give him two thumbs up.
I did give him the pre-requisite talk, however, which goes something like this: "You make her cry, I make you cry." Then Steve chimes in with, "She has to make you cry, I'll be right behind her."
However if what I observed today was any indication, this will not be necessary. He looked serious about her, but not wacko.
I came right out and asked him if he was gay since her gaydar doesn't work very well....it's a long story. He laughed and assured me he was not.
Anyway, after that I had a nap, as I am still fighting that headache.
Sam has gone to a bonfire and to Jimmy's to spend the night and Steven is playing WOW. I'd be jealous if I didn't know that if I still was playing WOW, I'd never get anything done and I'm enjoying accomplishing things. I work on the Celtic quilt in the bedroom as it is easy to see yellow on green, however I have to work on Steven's quilt in the family room because black thread on black material is the dickens to see.
Tomorrow...no special plans, just hoping I can make it to Sam's game. Not holding my breath though. Back surgery next Tuesday. It'll be good, I'm hoping, once I get past the two weeks of healing.
I have the pattern for Mom's quilt all chosen, the material is bought...and it looks JUST like her. I'll just have to choose a little bit of contrasting material that I believe I have in the stash, and we've got it made!
Hurray!
January 1, 2009
Praise the Lord!
Feeling more human and know the reason for the sickness. Has to do with 'female' and recent surgery, so while all the men out there are shuddering, we'll go forward.
Thus far today I have cleaned out one of two underwear drawers. Why two underwear drawers you might wonder....if you saw the size of my drawers compared with the size of my drawers you'd understand.
Then I took my four boxes of organized greeting cards and combined them into two boxes so I don't have to go hunting so much.
THEN I got out the Baby Harp and tuned it. I'm waiting for the strings to stretch to tune it again.
and THEN I'm going to clean out the OTHER underwear drawer. My goodness. That's just all kinds of productive on the first day of the New Year.
Praise the Lord!
Feeling more human and know the reason for the sickness. Has to do with 'female' and recent surgery, so while all the men out there are shuddering, we'll go forward.
Thus far today I have cleaned out one of two underwear drawers. Why two underwear drawers you might wonder....if you saw the size of my drawers compared with the size of my drawers you'd understand.
Then I took my four boxes of organized greeting cards and combined them into two boxes so I don't have to go hunting so much.
THEN I got out the Baby Harp and tuned it. I'm waiting for the strings to stretch to tune it again.
and THEN I'm going to clean out the OTHER underwear drawer. My goodness. That's just all kinds of productive on the first day of the New Year.