Nashville in November

I just wanted you to know how the trip to Nashville went.

Just in case you are in a hurry and you need to know in one word,

FANTASTIC.

But for the three family members that would like to read further, here is the synopsis by day. I know that for anyone who is actually a real musician, the dictionary at the end is going to let you know that, well, I know NOTHING. But don't make fun.

November 15th

~ preproduction at Pentavarit Studio with Andy Osenga.

~ scratch tracks were made for the first 5 songs.

~ Met Allison, Andy's wife and we ate at Baja Burrito (yum)

~ Hung out with Britt, Bobby and Jen, ate Jen's fabulous cooking.

November 16th

~ scratch tracks were made for the next 5 songs

~ Britt came and hung out at the studio.

~ Ate at McDougals (yum as well)

~ Ate at Baja again (super yum)

November 17th

~ Smoakstack Studio to begin laying tracks for bass (James Gregory) and drums (Will Sayles).

~ Ate at Baja again (super super yum)

~ Listened, learned a lot. And marveled at amazing musicians with my jaw hanging down to the floor most of the day.

November 18th

~ Smoakstack again with Andrew, James and Will. Finished laying down bass and drums for all ten songs.

~ drank a lot of coffee and tried to keep my jaw from dislocating again (these guys are amazing!!!)

~ ate at Calypso. (Does the yum ever end?)

~ hung out with Britt and Jen, ate more of Jen's amazing cooking.

November 19th

~ Listened to all the tracks and made notes about what was going to happen when I come back in January.

~ Flew home to my sweet family, just in time to save me from dying of homesickness!

STUDIO DICTIONARY (stuff I learned that most 4th graders already knew)

scratch track - the song in a raw state. Usually with vocals and bare instrumentation and a click track. Used as a guide for creating the real song track.

Click track - a steady rhythm fed to your cans so that you can stay on beat while you record.

Cans - headphones

Diamonds - whole notes

Preproduction - talking through with the producer all of the ideas and thoughts about each song.

Killer - this is good.

punch you in - insert a part into the music, usually in the middle of the song.

I can't wait to add to this. End of January is the next recording date. I will let you know how it goes!

More Manners

The kids displayed table decorum that could have been straight from Mrs. Manners tonight.

It was very pleasant.

I'll tell you about it.

Oh, by the way,

Did you know that JR and AJ have pet names for each other?

JR is "Jestah" and AJ is "Bubbsie".

Cute.

You also may not know that "Bubbsie" can't say his "r" sound.

And tonight at the dinner table it was:

AJ: Jestah, did you get yuhsef a dwink?

JR: No Bubbsie.

AJ: Don't wuwwee I will get you one. You don't need ice. (he can't reach the ice)

JR: Oh, Bubbsie, let me help you.

AJ: Thanks Jestah.

JR: Your welcome Bubbsie

AJ: Mom, Look, I cut my own food!

JR: I ate my dinner. May I be excused?

AJ: Look at my plate! May I have dessut?

MOM: Sure, but AJ I don't think you have any candy left.

JR: Bubbsie, would you like a piece of mine?

AJ: Thanks Jestah!

Ah, the absolute 1940's of it all!

Too darling!!

I am floored and proud of the little chubby-cheeked cherubs that are gracing the dinner table, but I am realizing that too much sweetness is a little rich for my blood.

It was almost a relief when AJ marched into the living room after dinner, ripped off his shirt and hollered "Hey Dad! Wanna see my nippoles?

Sweets, Stories and Songs

Tomorrow night come and join me at Temple Bible Church's Outback building from 7-9. There will be about 20 items that we are raffling off and some yummy desserts to eat! This is an event to raise money for the last phase of the recording project in January. (All of the funds for the travel this month have been raised!!! YEA!!!)

Come hang out. Have fun and enjoy the music.

Thank you for your support friends.

Manners?

I am writing down these little segments from dinner tonight for posterity. I want to mark this day, as the beginning of a new era. I don't know what it will be called. But I am hoping it will be a little more civilized.

AJ: Mom, I need my own knife. This dinner is a little creepy

Me: Well, okay. Only if it's one of the kid knives.

JR: Mom, I don't think I wiped very well when I pooped earlier

Me: Okay.

Me: AJ, the knife is not a sword

Me: AJ, the knife is not a machete

Me: AJ, don't cut the table. DON'T lick the edge of the knife.

Me. AJ, give me the knife.

JR: Mom, I spilled my chocolate milk. It's all over the curtains. Sorry. Can I have some more?

(this is the first time EVER I have made chocolate milk for the kids)

AJ: "Sluuuuuuuurp"

Me: Asher, don't lick milk off the table!

AJ: Don't worry mom. I have more!

Me: Chew with your mouth closed.

Me: Smaller bites please

Me: Use your fork, and don't talk with your mouth full.

AJ: I Wooonth moom

Me: Ew.

Me: Chewing once does not count as actually chewing!

AJ: We all have three hearts.

Me: Interesting, don't stand up in the chair.

AJ: Mom, I'm cold!

Me: Well, you shouldn't have come to the table naked. (although, I know why he did. He requested that he have a scar just like Will's on his shoulder. Will drew one on with a sharpie and, well, what's the point of having a scar if you can't show it off?)

I am appalled at my children's manners.

But I am thrilled that not once did they complain about what they had to eat.

AND, at the end of dinner, a half-clothed 3 year old and his older sister said "thanks" and took their plates to the sink.

HA!

HA!

I WILL prevail.

Nashville in November

This November I will be going to Nashville to record my first solo album.

Oh.. You didn't know?

Neither did I.

Until a month ago I thought it was just a nice, distant hope, and one that was pleasantly and unobtrusively shaping my "dream future".

I was casually writing songs and singing a little here and there.

Then I started praying about it. I decided this was going to happen.

Someday..

So.

I told Will that I was going to start working toward recording.

I punched a hole in a jelly jar and started putting dollar bills and coins in.

It took months to get $700. Less than a tenth of what I would need.

But I was so excited!

Then Will and I decided to move back to Texas.

Without the prospect of a job.

There went the jelly jar savings!

Then

The strangest thing happened.

The best kind of twist -

"poof" a precious "fairy godmother" appeared

And literally said, "I would like to make your dreams come true!!"

And so she is.

I am recording at a wonderful studio

With Andy Osenga as my producer

And all I have to come up with are travel expenses!!

Well.

I know that fairy godmothers aren't real.

And things don't happen "poof", out of thin air.

But it's hard for me to believe that God is doing this.

That He planned it.

Provided for it

Because I have been a little bit angry with Him lately.

Honestly. I am confused that He would allow me to do this.

I am humbled

And I am sad that I didn't trust Him in the first place.

I should have known.

So

I have resolved.

That.

Even if I don't get to go to Nashville in November

I know that He has something better.

Hopefully it involves a spot at His feet.

I don't need a jelly jar or a fairy godmother for that.

rewritten, for my own courage..

PSALM 6

Lord, you are angry,

please don't punish me.

I am in physical pain and confusion

because of mental anguish

I need MERCY.

I need HEALING.

My soul is writhing.

And every heartbeat is a reminder

that

I have waited and waited.

How much longer will I have to wait?

TURN AROUND GOD

I am RIGHT HERE.

Save me.

Save me.

I appeal to the truth

that your love cannot fail

I appeal to your desire for praise.

I won't be able to praise you if I die.

I won't even be able to think about you.

I submit to you now.

I AM DONE

DONE!!

I have cried so much my face is raw and my bed is drenched.

I can't see straight

But even if I could, I wouldn't want to.

Life is too overwhelming.

I give up and I trust, I think...

SO,

HEY.

You liars and manipulators

who don't even think about your affect on others.

GET AWAY FROM MY FAMILY

This courage is not mine!

I know that

I HAVE BEEN HEARD.

I HAVE BEEN HEARD.

I

Have been heard.

my words have been angry

but my cry has been desperate

MERCY!! PLEASE!

The Lord accepts this?

The Lord accepts this!!!

Suddenly

Suddenly

The manipulators are ashamed

suddenly

The liars are exposed and a little confounded

What happened?

They have turned away,

because my God has turned toward me.

Not because of me

Not my cry

Not my faithless, pittiful whine.

LOVE

is

rescue

it is on it's way.

Not only do I get to be rescued

I get to watch while everything is made right.

thank you

Father.

(and thanks Kimmy. I love you for turning my mind back to Jesus)

Foul Day.

We have a rat terrier.

She chews on chicken-sized toys.

We have neighbors.

They have toy-sized chickens.

And a hole under their fence.

*sigh*

Cake Walk

When I was little, I mixed sugar and water together with milk and froze it.

I called it "caramel".

I have no idea why my mother let me do these things.

She was always game for letting us girls "test out a recipe".

Even if the actual recipe didn't exist.

One time I decided to put on a cakewalk for all the neighbor kids.

I had no idea what a cakewalk was.

I had read about it in a book, and thought.

"WHAT?!! You can win a whole cake all for yourself?"

Paid for four cake mixes out of my allowance .

Made them ALL in about an hour.

My arms got really tired, and after the second cake I pretty much quit stirring, and just dumped the ingredients together.

I used bread pans and casserole dishes.

to make

6 cakes.

Several had sink holes.

All of them had some egg shell.

It's super tough to crack an egg when your shoulders don't clear the counters.

I mixed and matched the icing

german chocolate on the strawberry cake

vanilla mixed with strawberry on the lemon cake

lemon on the strawberry cake

german chocolate on the "marble cake" (don't ask)

etc.

I asked every kid in the neighborhood pay a couple of dollars to play "musical chairs cake walk".

(Well, I didn't ask Chad. He was a bully. He once forced my friend Lindsay to eat grass. And even if he did have a cat with the same name as my cat, we were definitely NOT friends.)

They marched around to music courtesy of my DJ sister and the boom box.

If they landed on a number corresponding to the numbered cake, they won a sinkhole, eggshelled, plastic-wrapped cake with icing that I had casually been tasting (directly off of the cake) throughout the process.

One meticulous and whiney kid complained about the condition of his cake.

This, I thought, was totally unfair.

He got a WHOLE cake. All to himself.

"beat it kid" I thought to myself.

But what I said was,

"That's what we've got, take it or leave it."

He took it.

Bet his mom made him toss it.

Serves him right

Ungrateful little peon.

Tonight my five year old heard what we were having to eat and whined,

"Is there going to be something ELSE for dinner??"

I wanted to say "beat it kid"

but instead I said something like,

"that's what I've got, take it or leave it."

She took it.

I am tossing the leftovers.

Poor little kid.

*sigh*

For me, cooking has never been a cakewalk.

And This is Lovely

I know it's been a while since I posted.

I will tell you more later about personal stuff.

Today, I wanted to tell you about something else.

The infamous Westboro Baptist Church has been protesting the funerals of fallen soldiers for years, their posters reading things like "God loves dead soldiers". They believe that,

well,

It really doesn't matter what they believe.

I think we should be livid enough at the thought of someone intruding into sacred, deep grief of the living, in order to speak disgrace over those who have already died.

It's inhuman.

And that brings me to PGR,

Patriot Guard Riders.

A group of motorcycle riders. Members of gangs, individuals, veterans, all with different beliefs who come together to do one thing: respect, honor and protect.

At the family's invitation they stand at the exit of a fallen hero's funeral. When the family leaves the funeral, The riders hold up large American flags. It shields the family from the ugly signs of the protesters, and it honors the fallen soldier/service man or woman.

In this case, truth is certainly not found in the church (Westboro)

In this case, Christ would be better represented by a group of tattooed "rebels".

Tough looking motorcycle riders I would be scared to talk to on the street standing silently to protect the grieving and vulnerable widow from more pain.

Lovely.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. (from James 1)

Bring On The Dog

Some of you know we got a puppy.

This is great.

I am thrilled.

Surely puppies are easier than fish..

After the prolonged illnes and death of Dolphin (R.I.P) (see first blog entry), we bought two glow-in-the-dark fish.

The fish were called "Pink One" and "Orange One" respectively.

After a week or so, "Pink One" started looking a little chubby.

I googled "how to tell if your fish is pregnant".

Then I changed the water, to create a cleaner and more sterile environment.

In the process, I crushed "Pink One"under a rock.

RATS

Then, "Orange One" began to look terrible.

I fed it to no avail.

It became emaciated and shrunken.

One morning I couldn't find it.

I thought it had died and that was the end.

*Whew*

I took the fish tank to the garden and poured the water into the flower bed.

"Bloop"

"Orange one" slipped out and lay on the dirt.

Then it started moving.

It wasn't dead.

This felt a little like deja vu.

I turned around

and walked back into the house.

That was the end

I didn't even try to save the neon glow-in-the-dark little fishy.

I am done with fishies.

Bring on the Dog.

Living Vicariously.

I listened to my three year old and four year old today. Their discussions are way more interesting than grown-up conversations. Here are some examples from today: (And I will say, they all happened in a span of twenty minutes. Imagine my whole day..)

1. Our vehicles were parked facing each other and there was a discussion as to whether the cars were smiling or angry at each other.

2. Since houses, trees, and AJ were not wearing clothes, all were all classified as "naked". ( Since this conversation happened in the front yard, I will say, AJ was not completely naked. He had a diaper on.)

3. Shadows are paint. When you are in the shadows, you are painted. When you are in the sun, you are not painted.

4. A stick is a dog bone, an "I can't walk very well stick" (cain), a fishing pole, a gun, a bomb, or just a stick.

5. You can fish from the porch swing, but not when it rains halibut. You can also take short flights on the porch swing with AJ as the pilot and JR as the copilot. But since the swing is too high, mom has to agree to be the propeller/engine. Again.

6. It's okay to try to try to cut limbs off if you don't use a real saw. (I stopped that, and said no to, "take my diaper off with the pliers." ) Sheesh.

Wish I could insert here, "And that's not nearly as interesting as what I did today". But for heaven's sake we all know our kids live much "funner" lives than we do. I, for one am embracing it and plan to live vicariously through my children.

The End.

Grandmother's Birthday

Everyone's family has quirks.

For example, while visiting my family this past week, one morning I found my Mom and Dad crowded at the computer looking up "guinea pig language".

Yeah.

But frankly, I ADORE my family.

So it was great fun to get to celebrate my Grandmother's birthday with them.

I thought I would let you in on our festivities:

1. Friday night outing to see Celtic Women. I have to admit, watching them between PBS fundraising isn't the same as listening live. They were incredible. I nearly cried when they sang a Disney song, and I hate Disney songs. It felt like we were at the finest Opera House, except that they sold nachos at intermission.

Awesome.

2. Saturday afternoon Grandmother and the whole family (all 18 of us) toured the Funeral Museum. JR and AJ acted like looking at coffins and hearses was an everyday thing. AJ really wanted the skull and crossbones sword from the gift shop. I wanted the Do-It-Yourself book on how to build your own coffin.

Just to have.

You know.

We opted for freeze dried ice cream. It was a good compromise.

3. Dinner at Mexican Food restaurant. Fajitas for everyone!

Well, not everyone.

Mom, Alli, Kate, Micah, LF, and KF are all vegitarians now.

There was a lot of yummy meat left over.

Thanks Vegans!

4. Back to the parent's house for a slide show. Oh, this was one of my favorite parts. Pictures of Grandmother and the fam. I have never heard everyone laugh so hard.

5. Then, an unplanned variety show. My cousin Sam performed his comedic interpretive piece, Cullen recited a few lines from Dante, and played piano. My Aunt C.A. did a historical impression of Joan of Arc (that still makes me giggle). My brother, Ben, performed a dramatic piece for two all by himself, it was impressive. I played a few songs.

And then.

Jeff claimed he had a talent

He showed everyone how he could make his hand look like a

"posterior"

"rear end"

a BUTT.

That was the end of the variety show.

5. Sunday morning was delicious. A brunch at Grandmother's place. One of the best breakfasts I have ever had, no lie. More pictures were produced and more information gleaned on my lovely family.

I was sad to leave.

I'm still a little homesick.

So, what do you say Aunts, Uncles, Moms, Dads, cousins and siblings?

I think Grandmother needs another birthday.

Say, next week?

I love you Grandmother! Hope your birthday was as special as you are.

Extra

I have started making breakfast for the kids a week in advance. This works great, when I remember to do it. Some weeks it's muffins but my favorite was the cranberry caramel scones we made. A cup of hot tea, and a warm scone. What could be better? I really don't even have to eat it. Just smelling them makes me feel cozy.


These are the newer cookies. Oh, did I tell you I decorate cookies for parties? These were for a bridal shower. She likes Fleur-De-Lis. So that's what she got.

And this is the creepy painting for the dining room. Who cares that the trees look like a two year old painted them and the sweet little swallow is going down in flames? Not me. I'm on a tree kick. It fits.

Sprung

I think I may have spring fever.

I found myself looking at pressure canners yesterday.

I have nothing to can. Well, eggs, maybe.

("pleh" and "ew")

I tried crocheting (compulsively)

After that, some

sewing

baking,

a little gardening

some reorganizing.

Then.

I planned and executed the hands and knees scrubbing of all non-carpeted floors.

And ENJOYED it.

AAGGGH!

Time to remove Martha Stewart's hot breath from off my neck.

There is always the quick fix.

Creedence, and Argent - to help me not feel so much like a soccer mom.

Miles Davis, and James Taylor - to help me put my feet up.

Ahhh. That's better.

Thanks guys.

The Disaster Relief Kit.

Today we had an emergency.

Not the life threatening kind, or even the ER kind.

The "in five minutes I am going to lose my mind" kind.

So, I acted in response, and broke out:

Our expired "Emergency Disaster Relief and First Aid Kit".

It. Is. AMAZING. Do you realize how much fun is packed into a relief kit?

Here is a run down on some of the goods:

1. green glow sticks (8 of them!!) .

2. portable radio

3. flash lights

4. those metallic emergency blankets

5. whistles

6. see-through red ponchos

(Red Cross Rave? Nah.)

7. gloves

8. crayons and coloring book

9. white dust masks

And we didn't even get to the first aid box.

You get the idea.

The kids were pretty excited.

They insisted on wearing the glow sticks on a string around their necks, and listened to the radio. They put on latex-free gloves and ponchos, ruined the emergency blanket and played with the flashlights.

It occupied them for...

Wait for it.......

15 minutes.

*sigh*

I figure it will cost me about $30 to replace all the things that were used, destroyed, licked, stepped on or lost.

They obliterated at $2 a minute.

That's $120 an hour.

You know, if they worked at this as a nine to five job

with vacation time

I figure that's almost $200,000 a year in destructive potential.

OH

GREAT.

I think I may have another emergency.

Puddles, Texas or Louisiana?

In Texas, the puddles reflect the sky.

They are surrounded by bluebonnets

and there is silt at the bottom.

In Louisiana, the puddles are green.

They are surrounded by mosquitos waiting to lay their eggs,

and they have grey mud at the bottom.

In Texas, when you stomp in a puddle,

the water sprays outward.

In Louisiana, when you stomp in a puddle,

the mud says "gallush" and lands in your boots.

In Texas, when you poke a puddle with your best puddle-poking stick, the water sparkles and birds sing.

In Louisiana, when you poke a puddle with your best puddle-poking stick, the mud swallows it and you can never get it back.

In Texas,

there are no permanent puddles.

In Louisiana,

stay away from the permanent puddles,

they smell like dead frogs.

In Texas, my kids NEVER beggggggged to go "stomping".

Now that we are in Louisiana, my kids stand at the window and drool until the rain stops.

Today, they bawled because it's too cold to get into puddles.

They LOVE it here.

Thanks Louisiana,

Your stagnant water is the BEST.

Update

We found a rent house!!

It won't be ready for another month, which works out perfectly because it gives the apartment complex time to rent out our apartment.

The house is in a nice neighborhood and several people within walking distance go to our church. There is a swing set in the back yard and a wonderful porch complete with rocking chairs and permission to garden to my heart's content. I am optimistic.

Easter was wonderful. We were involved with the church' Easter service. By the way. Never finished the Easter advent we worked on. We made it until we had two or three weeks until Easter and then I destroyed the advent order by "borrowing" a couple of the candles. I intended to burn them for an hour or two to make the house smell good. I forgot about them and they burned down to their little silver nubs. JR was a little annoyed, and frankly, I was too. It never fails that I take apart one project to make another. I think the kids got the point though, and really, that's what I was after.

Mr. K and the Wagons

So, this is an excerpt (a rough, rough excerpt) from some stories that I have been writing down about a man named Mr. K that I used to visit with at a nursing home. He was quirky and funny and a little dirty. I wrote letters and visited him for three years. Thought I would share a little with "you" whoever "you" are. Just a warning, the story is true (acc. to Mr. K) and it is sort of gross. So. There you go.

I walked in to the nursing home that morning with two cups of coffee from a shop nearby. One was for Mr. K. He was always complaining about the coffee and how bad it was in the nursing home. I also thought maybe if he was holding something he wouldn't try to put his hand on my leg. But, as I walked in the front door it occurred to me that he could barely hold a cup, let alone sip something hot without it being dangerous. "Nice" I said out loud. He never ate or drank anything while I was visiting. My coming often overlapped with meals and not once... I sighed dryly. "What was I thinking?", I mumbled . Well, I certainly wasn't going to flaunt my ability to hold something. I dumped both coffees in the trash outside his door and shoved my hands into my pockets. "Hey Mr. K. It's pretty chilly out today."

"Hello friend" he said. He always called me friend now. I don't think he remembered my name. I noticed his hair had been cut and his nails trimmed. I looked closer and realized a better description would be, he had been buzzed. The sparse hair on his head was the same length as his facial hair and eyebrows. Even his sprouting ear hair was the same height as the rest. With the evening light shining in behind him, he looked like he had a silver halo from his shoulders up...

...I had looked forward to hearing any stories from the war, but I didn't feel right asking him about it. When he finally pulled out his scrapbook from Germany, I sat close and tried to listen carefully....

..He pointed out a picture of a man. "This is Henry. He ran the wagons with me" Mr. K launched into the story.

"Back then they still had trucks with those wooden parts on the back. We had some of them new ones, metal ones, but mostly just wood. That is what we used to collect the bodies from the field. After a skirmish or battle we would drive out there and load up the wagons. Pile 'em in. Sometimes we couldn't get out there for a couple of days, you know? The rats would've gotten to them by then. It was the craziest thing. They would go for the eyes first. Noses, ears, fingers were next. One time we found a fella, he was pretty tore up. Anyway, we found his arm about 20 yards away, no lie. Those rats had dragged his arm off.... " He looked at me. I tried to look stone faced. My stomach was a tight knot, but I didn't want to give him any reason to stop. I wondered where this was going. Mr. K laughed. "Henry said if we could train them rats they would win the war for us. They could have carried the enemy off piecemeal. One day we were loading the trucks. We had to go a little ways and we found an old, uh, cold storage locker. You know one of them big things they used to hang sides of beef in before they was sold." I had no idea what he was talking about but I nodded, urging him to continue. "Well, Henry and I broke in, found it full of beef. Just hanging there, Nazi cows waiting for us men." He laughed at his little joke. "We drove back to the staging area and dumped those bodies as fast as we could. We couldn't do much about the maggots."

"Maggots." I said
"Weeeelll, the wagons were wooden you know. All those putrefied bodies, blood, guts, it really attracted them maggots. We could never really get 'em all out. The wagons would never get very clean. And that day we didn't even try. We high-tailed it back to the locker and loaded us a wagon full of beef. It may have had our guts all over it but by damn it we took that meat and ate ever last bit." He laughed. By this time I was realizing that my definition of a war story and Mr. K's definition of a war story were, different.
"You ate it. Oh, wow."
"You betcha, well, we scraped off the outside, but. after nothing but K rations for so long, it was good to have honest to goodness meat in our bellies. Them guys was so excited to have all that beef too." He paused

"Sometime, I'll have to tell you about the girls over there" he winked.

"Gross, Mr. K".
I felt a little strange, I looked at him. His eyes were off of me, he was looking at (his roommate). He had a little boy quality about him today and even though I couldn't understand why, I felt a little let down. I looked at him again and saw something else. A sagging. I realized these memories were ones that he didn't want to talk about, not because they were painful, but because he knew I wanted him to be a hero, to have the stories of a hero. I sat there in my own immaturity, embarrassed. Then words started tumbling out.
"Mr. K, I bet you sure did a lot to boost every one's mood. I can't believe you loaded all those heavy sides of beef. It's a wonder no one else thought of going in there..."

He looked at me.

There was something else in his eyes now.

It made me uncomfortable.

He leaned close to me, and breathed, "I wish I was twenty years younger."

"Yeah.. Okay, Mr. K, I gotta go"

Different Perspective

We live in an apartment. We started looking to buy a house recently and our list of "must haves" is long. So long, in fact, that I have been labeled by my husband as hopelessly picky. As we have looked and looked (our poor realtor!), we have become hopelessly stressed. Nothing was right, everything was out of our price range. And then a friend had a wise word.

"Wait".

Ahhhh.

Thank you.

And as we have retreated into contentment with the present situation, all of those "must haves" and amenities just seem to fade into the frenzied distance. Take yesterday for example:

I met our neighbors. They moved in recently and are a truly sweet family. They had to move into the apartments because their house burned two months ago. They lost virtually everything. I asked her what she missed the most. She said there were a few things that she missed, but since they were minutes away from losing their lives in that fire when they made it out, she was just so grateful to have her kids and her husband. Then she added, "hey, I know what it's like to be new in town so let me know if you need anything!"

Wow. Really?

Then last night:

I was hemming the skirt of a dress I am attempting to make. I was sitting in our bathroom (don't judge, it's really quiet.). I was sewing as fast as I could, knowing that I only had about ten minutes of quiet, tops. JR busted through the door. "Mom, I brought you something for you to be delightful about!" She unloaded a box of matchbox cars and the felt racetrack onto the floor. Next came AJ, stark naked. He grinned, said, "hi!!" and sat to pick out a car.

I gave up the sewing and joined them on the floor. In walked my husband. He took a spot on the counter and started talking. I sat there in the 4X6 bathroom with both of my kids and my husband. We were actually laughing, talking and playing in that tiny space.

Hmmm.

My attitude towards "more space" is looking a lot like selfishness, not necessity.

I am really glad we have a living room, a bathroom and a kitchen. Beyond that, it's gravy!

Family

Do you have friendships that are so easy, you don't realize they are extraordinary?

I do.

The conversations are peaceful and interesting, or, lively and entertaining.

The stories aren't told as if they are terribly important, but I can't stop thinking about them.

I laugh harder than normal, sometimes out of relief for something to laugh about, but sometimes because it's the funniest darn thing I have ever heard in my life.

The lovely is exposed.

The bittersweet is embraced.

The struggles cease to be dramatic, and instead, become a small part of a big picture.

I'd like to think I treasure these friendships. But I take them for granted too many times

so

Dear Kate, Kim, Mom and Ben,

Thank you so much for spending time with me. I had a blast. You all are so much fun! But I have to admit. I couldn't finish the projects we started. The table was still covered in scraps of fabric until the other day because I couldn't bear to put it away. I was so excited to finish that silly dress, but now that you all are gone I just can't find any inspiration! When I finally packed it up, I kind of felt like my heart was going to just break right in two.

I miss you guys.

The projects and crafts are in the closet, ready for the next time we all get together. I will get to hear about boyfriends and dates, why I should eat apples with the skin on, how to wear the latest trends, or whether God is calling you to the mission field. Next time we'll have to sit around the piano, like old times. (are you listening Allison and Heather?) Okay, enough sentiment.

Here's to family!

Here's to friendship!

Here's to your loveliness and depth that feed my soul.

Beth

Fearless Mistakes

I took apart the disposal one time because it wouldn't work. It ended up being a pebble stuck in the blade. It could have been fixed by sticking my hand down the drain a few more times. But I chose the hard way. Three hours, some online tutorials (including having to look up what an allen wrench is) and all the parts of the nasty, awful disposal laid out on the counter.

Frustrating.

However, I know now how to install a disposal. I know how to take it apart. And I am not afraid to do so.

It's funny how making a mistake actually contributed to more confidence in the long run. So I got to thinking. How far have I come in fearless homemaking?

In the kitchen, bad:

I have made a jelly roll (yuck), marzipan (ew), cream puffs, bread, cinnamon rolls, pie crust, taffy, peanut brittle, caramel, mayonnaise, polenta, gnocchi, etc. and they have ALL failed. I started three kitchen fires, ruined a microwave and burned a coffee pot. Tried to make my own cleaning products that made my husband gag.

Good:

Some of those recipes are easy now. Have you ever had an old fashioned taffy pull? Soooooo much fun! I have helped pull up linoleum and refinished old wood floors. I have also repainted cabinets.

In the laundry room bad:

It took me five years to figure out how I was going to fold my dishtowels (the first two years I folded them like a flag, weird). I am now banned from washing my husband's jeans (couldn't remember which ones were no-drys). Made my own laundry detergent and it made the clothes smell like old grapes.

Good:

Can iron MH's (my husband's) shirts the way he likes 'em. Just learned a month ago. I can dye cheesecloth, muslin and cotton on purpose (fun!).

In the living room bad:

I still don't know how people keep their carpet clean. I have painted the walls dark green, dark brown with white swirls, red, and mustard yellow. I actually embossed my walls with gold wax one time because I thought it would look cool, it did not.

Good:

I can sponge, glaze, rag and paint huge pink stars. Ugh. I also fixed a "broken" speaker for the surround sound.

In the bedrooms bad:

I made our curtains out of remnant fabric, and bamboo rods. I have made curtains out of sheets, beads, ribbon, glue, and felt.... Oh, man, I hate my tacky self. I have made doll clothes out of ribbon, toilet paper, tape and buttons. I found pieces of a dress I made on the floor the other day. Apparently it was supposed to be functional, as in removable. Didn't know.

Good:

Okay, nothing good here.

In the bathroom bad:

paint, re-paint, kind of fixed the toilet. I hung a shelf once, well I hung it like, five times. Okay, done here..

Outside bad:

By my calculations I kill about 21 plants every spring. That means I have murdered close to 168 innocent plants in my married life. That is not counting seedlings. Used compost from sanitation department. Best flowers, worst smell.

Good:

I can grow herbs, (go figure) and flowers. Not only that, I can mulch, mow, weed and I have even picked up a snake that was hanging out in the dirt (with a stick of course)

Not bad. I think I am getting better. My sense of style is a little off (someone once told me that the way I decorate forces people to feel a certain way). So, I might need to work on that one... But I think the important thing is I have very little fear of making mistakes with my house.

Now, if I could only transfer that lack of fear to relationships with people...

Best Field Trip Ever

We went on a lot of field trips when I was little; the planetarium, aquarium, alligator farm, children's museum, reenactments, plays, interactive lectures, etc. But a lot of the trips were to the zoo in New Orleans.

It was a favorite of our homeschool association.

And our group was thorough. They read alllll of the plaques, information sheets and pamphlets that were available. When the information was wrong, (allusions to evolution) the moms would stop and reeducate us right on the spot.

It was usually a long day.

Inevitably, my understanding mom would split from the "pack" and we would end up doing our own thing.

But one time we drove with friends in their wood paneled station wagon. So I knew there was no escaping the others. Six little girls all under the age of ten, piled in the back seat that smelled of gasoline and vinyl.

Dreading, dreading.

It was hot.

The humidity perpetuated the natural stink that accompanies zoo life.

And it felt like we walked for hours.

Suddenly, in true Louisiana fashion, the clouds moved overhead, the heavens opened, and rain fell in buckets.

Six kids, two moms, no umbrellas, and we couldn't even see to find the exit.

My mom managed to get eight yellow ponchos with animals all over them. We stood under the snack pavilion huddled together.

When the rain eased up, everyone was soaked.

But now there were puddles.

The trip suddenly got superbly better.

We squished and splashed our way out of the zoo, and headed to the nearest laundry mat.

We stripped down to our skivvies, put the ponchos on and sat with instructions to be quiet while our clothes were tumble dried.

Six girls wearing sticky yellow ponchos in a car with the windows rolled down.

The air was cool.

Freedom was breezing through the open windows and it was irresistible.

Ponchos were discarded.

We jumped and climbed over the seats.

We shouted to passers-by and sang at the top of our lungs.

We giggled harder than we had all day.

The miserable trip to the zoo was forgotten.

So...I guess I don't have good memories of the zoo.

But I do have good memories of being in a station wagon filled with half-naked little kids.

That's, actually

kind of weird.

odd.

whatever.

It was still the best field trip ever.

Going Blind in Wal-Mart

I went to Wal-Mart today. On the way in to the store, I noticed that I couldn't see out of my left eye very well. I thought it was my contact lens and so I kept scrunching my eyes shut to try to get my vision clear. It wasn't working and I realized while I was on the baking aisle it was actually getting worse.

Instead of slowing down and trying to figure out what was wrong, I panicked and started throwing things into the cart. I rushed through the aisle, thinking that I could at least get the grocery shopping done before I went completely blind in one eye.

I was winking and blinking and shaking my head as I rushed to check out.

Then, right between AJ punching all the buttons on the credit card machine and JR dropping the carton of eggs on the floor,

it hit me.

What if I couldn't drive?

What if the other eye started going blind?

I took a deep breath and looked at my cart brimming with groceries and then at my two children who I didn't know if I would be able to see after today.

I marched myself into the Wal-Mart vision center.

"Hi, um, I can't see out of my left eye. It's all fuzzy." I tried to sound nonchalant

"OK. When would you like to get in to see the doctor?"

"Just as soon as possible, I can't see and, it's a little weird" my voice was suddenly so loud.

5 minutes later my kids and I were sitting in the exam room with a shopping cart full of abandoned diapers and dairy products in the hall.

Then it happened.

My eye just went and cleared right up.

I sat there with my two toddlers and wondered if I could sneak out with my shopping cart unnoticed.

The doctor came in.

"Hey!" I said. "Umm, I couldn't see, but now it's okay"

It didn't get me out of an exam. And an embarrassing revelation.

It was low blood sugar, or that I needed sleep.

"Oh." I said "Next time I go blind in one eye, I'll eat a snack and take a nap before I come see you, okay?"

Then I laughed waaay too hard and left.

He didn't charge me.

Well, if a crazy lady pushed a cart full of groceries and two kids into your office and claimed to be going blind, would you charge her, or get her out as fast as you could?

Right. Thought so.

JR and the Older People

I thought about not posting this, because I don't want to come across as making light or making fun of other people. Just know I am not trying to be offensive.

I go to the nursing home every Friday to hang out with the alzheimer residents.

Why?

Well I would like to think it's because I just want to be used by God.

But maybe it's just so that my friends and I will think I am a good person.

I struggled when JR asked if she could go with me a couple of weeks ago.

I was playing hymns that week and I thought about how she might get in the way.

I thought about germs.

I thought she would be afraid.

I thought about what I would do if she misbehaved in front of...well, then I thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

I brought her with me.

I explained to her that these people were older and they were all in wheelchairs (we call them magic chairs). I tried to describe what they might do or say that might be different than what she is used to.

I tried to help soften the shock that I felt the first day I walked in.

I shouldn't have worried.

The elderly lady who carries the baby dolls everywhere she goes is JR's hero

The woman who is on loud breathing machines didn't intimidate her.

At one point I watched JR walk hand-in-walker with a woman, down the hall chatting happily and completely content, while I was sitting on the edge of my chair, ready to jump up and snatch Jessie away in a moment.

She sat on the floor at my feet and played while I read the newspaper out loud.

She played the piano WITH me (confidently by the way). I had to ask her to stop.

In short, she was amazing.

I know she isn't coming because she wants other people to think she is a good person. She wants to be with me, loves the captive audience, and most importantly, doesn't see anything wrong or strange about being with people who don't make sense all of the time (she does live with me after all).

It was humbling, I thought she would see the hard parts.

Instead, she keeps asking when we can go back.

More Easter!

This is our Easter Advent set-up. Don't laugh, I didn't know there was a proper way to do this so we kind of made up some of it. I got the idea from Noel Piper's book Treasuring God in our Traditions. It has some wonderful ideas, some of which I have listed below. In case you have never heard of an Easter advent (I hadn't), I will tell you what we have done here. The Sunday before Lent is the starting date. Seven candles, seven weeks before Easter. All of the colors represent something pertaining to the resurrection. Each Sunday we light all of the candles and then we will blow out one for each week that has passed, talking about what the color represents. The gradually increasing darkness is the world without Christ. On the day of Easter, every candle will be lit, representing Christ's resurrection. Because we used things we had, it cost about $4. The most expensive thing was the black candle representing sin and darkness. (I should have known anything having to do with sin would cost me.)

(yeah. stupid joke. so what, it's my blahg)

Here are some of the other ideas Noel suggested:

1. A resurrection tree - get a branch from outside and hang on it things that remind you of the resurrection. A piece of white cloth, a cross, a rooster, a crown of thorns, a nail hung by a string, are all ideas that were listed in the book.

2. A cake on Easter made like a lamb. (I think this might be a little morbid though, to slice right into the lamb-of-God-our-perfect-sacrifice).

3. A tomb and hill made out of play dough and figurines to act out the events as they happened the week before the resurrection. Each day you can describe one thing that happened, then the last three days before Easter "Jesus" is in the tomb.

Jamie, thank you so much for the Resurrection Cookie recipe! I cannot wait to do that with the kids. I love that idea!

In Preparation For Easter

Telling tall tales and adventure stories comes as naturally as breathing in our house. My kids even start all their stories with "once upon a time".

Example:

JR: "Once upon a time, when I was a little girl I ran into a spaghetti forrest with noodle vines and toast walls. And there was a bread house!"

AJ: "Mom, Unce-a-time when I was a yittah boy, I saw a tigah! And he come an' bited my toes."

Stuart Little is our current read. When we sit down for breakfast, Jessie's first question for the past two weeks is always "Will you read more Stuart Little ?"

"Of course, my little darling!!!" I say cheerfully.

(Not really. I will say something like "Yeah sure, give me a minute. Be patient.")

I sit down and read until someone splats oatmeal on the page, loses interest, or, like today, AJ mashes his muffin to oblivion with his fists.

So, with all the story-telling in our home, I get pretty excited about holidays. I am especially excited about Easter.

I love Easter.

But it hit me today.

I can't let this be another story I tell the kids over the breakfast table. I want this one to be tangible, real and personal.

So

I am asking for ideas. Friends, would you mind telling me how you wade through all of the hype of bunnies and eggs to get to Jesus? How do you make it special and personal? I would love to hear your input.

Story Quilt

Hey, I made a quilt. It's pretty rough because I can't seem to follow a pattern (or a recipe for that matter) to save my life. But it was made out of lots of sentimental things. Will's Mamaw's dishtowels (vintage feedsacks) Some of the kid's baby clothes and my maternity clothes. I call it our story quilt. It sits in the living room so we can snuggle up under it when I read or tell a story. The kids have already identified their old clothes in the blanket and ask me to tell about when they were "little". Maybe this will be a way that I can hold on to old memories. Maybe it will be a way to make new memories too.

February 13, 2002

Eight years ago today my husband told me he liked me for the first time, with the understanding that I couldn't say whether I liked him back or not. It wasn't necessary that I liked him back, he explained. He just had to tell me the way that HE felt, out of obedience. I interrupted with, "WELL! I like you too!" Two and a half months later we were engaged. Seven months after that we were married.

When it's right, it's right!

I adore him.

Just thought I would throw that out there.

The rest of you can have February 14.

I'll take the 13th any day.

Old Books

I just assumed that any book from the 1940's would be okay to read. Surely there wouldn't be any curse words or violence, for goodness sake. I imagine black and white retro figures acting angry at the thought and saying, "Jeepers! That is not super swell." The men would be shocked and the women would faint.

I thought that era was safe, understandable, and clean.

Not so.

My little read from the 1940's contains racism, bad words, lust, murder, and gossipers.

I am so disappointed. Apparently pill box hats didn't deter women from being evil, and pants worn above the belly button didn't stop men from being jerks, it also didn't stop the author from adding words I don't know. So I had to look them up. (this doesn't make me a nerd, I think it makes me "trying not to look stupid") Here are the words I didn't know:

insouciance - lack of care or concern

vitriolic - caustic, scathing

ampule - sealed plastic or glass bulb containing solutions for hypodermic injection.

taciturn - inclined to silence, stern, quiet

declaim - to speak out in a oratorical manner, make a formal speech

And that is only up to page 35. I quit after that. I think I'll go back to "Good Wives" by Louisa May Alcott. Which, by the way, is definitely dated vernacular, but the content is very applicable to the modern wife, especially Meg's and Amy's experiences.

My husband is going to make so much fun of me for this post, but,

Sweetie, I am the woman I am because of "Little Women".

I learned That:

When you wear roller skates and allow the family poodle to pull you around the neighborhood by a leash tied tightly to your wrist, make sure there are no cats.

Baking soda is a great way to put out a fire in the kitchen, salt is good too. A dishtowel works in a pinch, but my mother with a pot lid is the best.

Cats cannot fly, no matter how many times you throw them off the front porch.

You cannot fly, no matter how many Wal-Mart sacks you use when you throw yourself off the front porch.

If you sew enough you'll get good at it - so not true. Quote from my Mom: "Hey Beth, please, sweetheart, after that skirt, don't make anymore for your sisters okay? They're not...moddest". I would have preferred "they're so...economical", but, whatever.

If a homeschooled boy comes up to you at the YMCA get-together and gives you a pot of honey that he harvested from his very own bees, it means he likes you. If he only tries to talk to you when he is wearing his snorkel, it might be time to give the honey back.

Just because you can balance a broom on your finger, doesn't mean you will be a hit at the talent show.

You can carry matches around to make a fire any time you might need one on the family camp out. Or. You can carry a lit candle around the whole weekend and burn your braid right off.

Cutting down a cactus with a three inch pocket knife, will not impress the boy you like.

West Texas

I seem to be missing my old friends. There is certainly something exciting about moving to a new place, meeting new people and finding kindred spirits, but today I miss the comfortable friendships from Texas. I love you, and hope you are doing well..

I see the rain a'comin' a mile ahead

With the lightning streaming like a golden thread

And the heat rises up from the rocks and the dirt

Like a sweet smelling woman in a twirling skirt

Mesmerizing me soothing my fears

While the rain falls so soft it's like tears

This is my home

This is my home

Any fool can visit

The wise will miss it

And it's home to me

There's a sweet wind whispering after the storm

And the earth is cold but the sun is warm

All the vast, empty spaces are filling my soul

They shatter my pride and swallow me whole

The night birds they sing me to bed

As the sleep-laden sun fades to red

This is my home

This is my home

Any fool can visit

The wise will miss it

But it's home to me

The stars are heavy with light

A gift for the travelers of night

Tomorrow I roam

But tonight I am home

Any fool can visit

The wise will miss it

And it's home to me

I'm the fool who visits

I am wise to miss it

And it's home

It's home to me

Haiti and my Boots

I wore my "Help Haiti" T-shirt to the mall the other day.

I overheard an interesting conversation between two people who read my shirt.

This saleswoman thought that the tragedy in Haiti was going to make people in America feel better about their lot in life. And because they felt better, they were going to spend more and therefore boost the economy. I listened condescendingly. How could they only think of how this awful event would affect them? I shook my head as I picked up a pair of $120 boots.

How short sighted they were.

How shallow.

Selfish.

I casually wondered how the boots would look with my new jeans...

Aaron Ivey and his wife Jamie just welcomed their son home from Haiti. Amos is a boy who they have been in the process of adopting for the past two years. Every other month one of them would fly to Haiti to visit with Amos and love on him.

Haiti is a very difficult country to adopt from. So they didn't know when they would be able to get their son. They were determined. Aaron even wrote an incredible song about the strength of his resolve to bring the boy home. It's beautiful. When the tragedy struck Haiti they were, in all probability, back to square one. But they were so hopeful. They were excited to speak out and take this oportunity to help others. When the earthquake shook Haiti, it should have shaken their hope.

But it didn't.

A few weeks ago they got a call.

In an incredible turn of events their son and 26 other orphans were being flown to Florida. They could pick him up Within 24 hours.

Amos is home.

Amen.

Something happened to me while I was holding those boots.

I. felt. ashamed.

I realized that the saleslady's self-centered opinion was no worse than my willingness to allow my t-shirt to be my voice AND my action.

I put down the boots and walked out of the store crying.

But where to start?

My sweet husband unknowingly answered this question.

He was helping my 2 year old get dressed in his "Help Haiti" t-shirt yesterday. I heard him say to AJ. "Okay, when you put this on, you remember to pray. Dear Jesus, help the little girls and boys who lost their homes and their families. Comfort them, keep them safe. Amen". His little voice echoed sweetly, the words that I should have been saying all along.

That is the place to start.

Then.

There are other ways.

www.aaronivey.com.

It tells the story of Amos, and also the story of Ronel (who just spent a week with his new father sleeping on the floor of the US Embassy in Haiti waiting to be released to his new home/family in America - they finally landed on US soil Thursday!). There are also ways to donate money on this website.

Don't get me wrong.

I don't think it's wrong to buy a pair of shoes. But if I need some in the future, I'll try TOMS (they are donating 30,000 pairs to Haiti in the month of February).

For now. I will just try to shod my feet with "the gospel of peace".

Jesus and Idols

Conversation Between me and my 4 year old:

JR: I want my life, I don't want to give it to Jesus. I want the glory.

Me: Okay. We can talk about that if you want to.

The next day

Me: Hey, I want to tell you something. I sometimes don't want to give the glory to God. But God is good. We are sinful. When we give the glory to God we give to someone who rescued us from sin. When we give the glory to ourselves then we are just giving glory to something that is sinful. Why wouldn't you want to give God the glory?

JR: Because I want the glory.

Me: We worship Jesus to give him glory. Do you want to be worshipped?

JR: Yeah. I want to be Jesus and I am mad.

Me: Why are you mad?

JR: Because I want a Jesus costume to wear when I get bigger.

Me: Hmmm. What happened to people who worship things that aren't Jesus?

JR: The people break down the idols.

Me: Yeah, are idols really God?

JR: No

Me: Do you think you are wanting to be an idol? You aren't Jesus and you are wanting the glory.

JR: Yeah, I want to be an idol. And I want to be angry.

Me: No you don't

JR: Yeah I do. Wellllll, no I don't. I don't want to be made of metal. What am I made of?

Me: flesh and bone.

JR: Oh. I was just kidding. I don't want the glory.

Haha!! Sooo, what the heck was that conversation about anyway? Whatever it was, I think I may have botched it...

Noodle

Met with a personal trainer for a first appointment today.

A very sweet young man.

Oh, gracious.

I just called a college student a sweet young man.

Nice.

Anyway, we went through how to use the equipment and how much experience I had had exercising. I thought briefly about lying through my teeth and telling him that I was in training for a triathlon or something.

Instead I told him about the two times I fell off the tread mill.

He showed me all the equipment and I tried each machine on it's lowest setting. Each time he asked,

"Izzat good? Can ya feel it?"

Why, yes. I could.

But I was very brave.

I feel a little like a noodle.

Except for my arms.

I can't feel them at all.

Next time I may just make the appointment with the janitor and a spatula.