Of Lemons and Honey

I Need to Stop; A Goodbye

2011-03-02T10:56:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking about this for some time.

It is time to say goodbye here, to stop blogging.

The reason is that I simply have nothing to say.

Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while know that I have been struggling.

I'm not the same person I was when I began this blog a year and a half ago.

Much has happened, and much has been lost.

I feel as if I am in a bit of a state of stun.

You know how you feel, or would feel, after a hard slap across your cheek? That immediate stun, a moment of incalculable numbness and silence, before you awake and feel and react?

My whole life is in that state right now.

It looks as if my daughter will never be home here with us again. She is too disturbed, and we are simply not enough for her. She will go on to live with a family more suitable to her needs.

It looks as if most of my family cannot comprehend this reality and quiet blame and mistrust has chilled into stone-cold silence.

And I don't know how I'll ever get over this.

I thank God Almighty for my son and for my husband. For despite all my grief and all my loss, I am still a rich woman.

But I simply have nothing to say here.

I have tried to stumble along, trying to find my voice again, my humor, my style. It is not there.

I can't find anything to say that I think anyone else will care about or that will be worth your time or my time.

Everything seems trite. The truth is, I have only deeply personal things on my mind and in my heart right now.

And the deeper things are stuck in a stunned pause.

So I will have to say goodbye here.

And thank you all -- every one of you -- who ever saw my name and felt persuaded to see what I had to say that day. You have done me a kindness that I cherish beyond words.

I will still be around to read your blogs here and there. While I seem to have nothing worthwhile to say, you all certainly do, and I look forward to stopping by to say hello from time to time, checking in on each of you. I would miss you terribly if I didn't.

I think I will leave this blog here and maybe some day I will be this person again. I can't bear to just delete it.

So thank you once again for coming by. It has meant more than I could ever, ever express.

I wish you each peace, joy, and love . . . the greatest of these is love.

Peace Doves

2011-02-23T09:51:00.001-05:00

My beautiful pigeons.

They look like peace doves.

Peace. . .

In the words of the great Jeff Smith today,

"I bid you peace."

Help

2011-02-16T12:20:00.000-05:00

"You are worthy of being helped."

I heard that on television this morning, and it stopped me in my tracks.

This is an issue for me.

Whenever I need help with something, I feel ashamed.

Or dishonest, as if I really could manage without the help and, therefore, I am . . . not worthy of the help.

I often get defensive or even combative when someone tries to help me with something.

This has caused issues in my marriage from time to time, for marriage is a lifetime of teamwork, of giving and of receiving. Receiving with an open and free heart is very difficult for me.

I have begun to realize I feel unworthy.

Of course, various circumstances in my life have brought me to places where I have been forced to ask for help.

I do and can ask for help. . . I am certainly not saying that I do everything myself, without help from anyone.

But all the while I am receiving that help, I secretly and silently browbeat myself for it.

This adds conflict to my heart, my life. It disquiets my soul.

My husband is a generous and gracious care-taker, helper. It disturbs him that accepting help is so difficult for me.

I could spend many hours and probably many dollars analyzing how this came to be in me.

But I think my time would be better spent repeating that beautifully illuminating sentence above,

"You are worthy of being helped,"

and working to synthesize it into my heart and into my soul.

I am worthy of being helped.

And so I bring this to you, dear reader . . . do you feel worthy of being helped?

Really?

Extra Love Today

2011-02-14T07:39:00.001-05:00

Sometimes people bemoan Valentine's Day

as a "Hallmark Holiday" ~

Or they say they don't need a special day set aside for expressing love,

that it should be done every day.

Yes, it should be done every day.

But I think it is lovely to think of Valentine's Day as icing on the cake,

a little insurance, a day to do that little extra thing,

add that extra sweetness ~

What a good reminder it is ~

And, to me, any reminder to do the out-of-ordinary is welcomed ~

So, then, to you, Dear Readers, I say:

Happy Valentine's Day.

Wishing you all much love, today,
and

All year long.

Inspiration and Aspiration

2011-02-03T14:03:00.001-05:00

Ever been to Amsterdam?

It's one of my favorite cities.

Bicycles are everywhere, and it is fun to see how people personalize their bicycles to fit their personal styles and functions.

If I ever move to Amsterdam, or achieve likewise coolness, I will buy myself one of these . . . and then choose a bicycle to suit it.

What is it?

It is a "Crocheted Bicycle Dress Guard," of course -- keeps your skirt or coat tails out of the spokes as you're riding.

Or perhaps I prefer this style . . . can't decide.

Made by Darkandstormydays on Etsy, they are a vision of beauty and functionality, and I had to show them to you.

Someday, I aspire to be riding a bicycle in a long, flowing skirt without a care in the world.

I just decided that.

Chicken Coax

2011-02-02T13:32:00.000-05:00

Go out and play in the snow . . . don't be a chicken!

Chickened Out . . . And In

2011-02-01T17:08:00.000-05:00

Wow, thanks for all the interest and support on yesterday's post. I had no idea this little dilemma was so relatable! I was thinking that maybe I was needing a slap across the kisser to snap me out of it. Well, once again, thanks for "gettin' me."

What did I make??

Excuses.

I am a lucky girl that I have such an understanding husband. He just laughed and shook his head and told me how funny I was. Yah, I'm a laugh a minute.

Then my sweet boy presented his thing-of-beauty report card and we celebrated by taking him out for dinner. He picked the place, Noodles & Co.

Now, today I put on my big-girl panties and committed to a meal. Here's what cooking . . .

My Roast Chicken

1 7.5 lb roaster chicken
4 large onions
8 potatoes
4 slices bacon, cut in half
4 TB butter, cut into pieces
fresh thyme
fresh rosemary
salt & pepper
1 8oz carton baby bella mushrooms, quartered

Preheat oven to 350.

Wash and half or quarter potatoes and onions, put in bottom of 9 x 13 pan. Rinse chicken and place on top of potatoes. Place one more cut up onion inside cavity along with one half slice bacon and one piece butter.

Run hands between skin and meat. Salt and pepper in there and push in several sprigs of the fresh herbs. Arrange bacon on top of breast skin. Sprinkle bits of butter over the chicken and vegetables in pan.

Place chicken in oven, uncovered, for 30 mins for every lb. of chicken. *When there is 15 minutes of cook time left, sprinkle in mushrooms and return to oven for final 15 minutes.

Allow chicken to rest, covered with foil, for 10 minutes before carving.

And:

Spicy Cranberry Chutney**

1/3 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup raisins
1 cup water
3 cups fresh cranberries
1 Granny Smith apple - peeled, cored and chopped
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup chopped crystallized ginger
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

In a saucepan, combine brown sugar, raisins and water; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to simmer and stir while simmering for 5 minutes. Stir in cranberries, apple and lemon zest; simmer for 10 minutes more.

Stir lemon juice, ginger and pepper flakes into the mixture before removing from heat. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

***

I was going to bake something for dessert, but the oven seems to be giving off a lot of "newness" smell (yes, I washed it out first), so I covered my chicken and have decided to forgo the baking for a while longer until it is broken in.

It's beginning to smell yummy!

Dilemma

2011-01-31T17:10:00.000-05:00

I'm hiding.

This is one of the stupidest things I've ever done.

Supper is in one hour.

And I have no idea what to make.

That's not that unusual.

But it is when you consider that I got a lovely, brand-spanking new stove today. Brand-new. Blue-plastic covering the door-front new . . .

And it's so pretty!

And it's so clean.

I cannot decide what would be the best thing to make for her maiden voyage.

A simple, basic supper doesn't seem fitting . . . but it is only a Monday night.

Perhaps a cake?

My husband suggested a roast chicken, but it's too late for that now.

Now I'm down to easy, I-didn't-put-much-thought-into-this kind of meals.

But that doesn't seem right.

And I can't very well put some sort of ghastly frozen thing into it for the first time.

A cake then?

But what about supper?

Would you all laugh if I ended up getting takeout?

Okay, okay . . . never mind.

Happy Campers

2011-01-29T10:18:00.000-05:00

It is a white, frosty Saturday morning here, and my whole brood is snug inside and all is right in the Lemony Renee' world . . .

The puppy is dragging around his toy rubber chicken; a Christmas gift. He is systematically chewing the toes off and having so much fun doing it. A little ghoulish, but he's happy.

Lester is sitting here on my monitor, all puffed up and content. I love this little bird; she brings me peaceful companionship and all she asks in return is that I let her sit on my head every now and then.

And my husband and my son are where I left them last night . . . on the floor of the family room, sleeping bags spread out in front of the fire . . . this is their version of winter camping. They cook convenience foods over the open fire of the fireplace and do decidedly "guy things" all evening, night, and the next morning. Last night, I believe there was a late-night sledding adventure, a nature walk, and home to another log on the fire and a first lesson in poker. Ten hours later, the poker continues (I suspect they slept at some point, but I can't be sure) and my son just came streaking through here proclaiming that he just got a straight . . . hair still all askew and wearing his "happy camper" t-shirt, he was quite a sight.

These are the best of days.

I think I'll pour another cup of coffee and have a bit of that banana bread for breakfast.

I wish you a contented Saturday . . .

Snow and Bananas

2011-01-27T10:39:00.000-05:00

It's snowing . . . and the old man is snoring . . . or something like that.

We have 10" of snow on the ground this morning.

Everyone is at work, no one is at school, and it looks like a Christmas card outside.

There's nothing better on a day like this than baking and warming up the house with the smell of bread and cookies and whatever else I can scrape together the ingredients for.

Here's what I just popped in the oven -- the best banana bread, ever, and it's whole wheat!

Whole Wheat Banana Date Bread

2 1/2 c. whole wheat flour

1 1/2 c. mashed very ripe bananas (about 4)

1 c. packed brown sugar

1 c. chopped dates

2/3 c. plain (or vanilla) nonfat yogurt

2 eggs

1/3 c. canola oil (or applesauce if you really want to be *good*)

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. vanilla

Mix it all up however you want and put it in 2 greased loaf pans (1 if you have a 9 x 5 x 3 pan).

Bake at 350* until a toothpick comes out of the center clean, which, in my oven, is approx. 1 hour.

Cool 5 minutes on a wire rack and then invert to de-pan, if you desire.

You're welcome!

Summer Over Already?

2011-01-24T14:44:00.001-05:00

If you are not currently in the parenting business . . . parenting school-aged children, that is . . . you may not realize that it is camp-enrollment season.

I know.

Despite the current frigid temperatures and constant threat of snow and ice, we have spent the past week reading activity descriptions, comparing swimming lessons, confirming dates for things like the county fair and the scouts' camp-out, and trying to pin-point what my boy's interests will be come this summer.

And today I spent this morning enrolling him in several fabulous-sounding experiences. Sports, explorers, horses, music. Sounds great!

But I always get a bit of a heavy heart as I color in the various weeks that have been scheduled for my boy. It seems like, with a stroke of a pen, I have spent his entire summer for him. Already. And, somehow, I miss him. Already.

***

Before I allow myself to become completely depressed, I must remind myself that my boy has plenty of unscheduled time mixed in this summer. We will laugh and we will hang out together. We will go blueberry picking and fishing. We will clean out closets, too, and pick through the mountain of papers that have come home from school.

I always strategically leave the cleaning of closets and the organizing of dresser drawers for the last day before a busy camp week . . . somehow, it eases the blow of time apart, if you know what I mean.

Go Pack!

2011-01-23T14:37:00.001-05:00

The biggest game of the most bitter rivalry will be played today . . .

Chicago, we're coming for you . . .

Da-Bears = Da-Feat!

GO PACK!

*******

Updated post-game . . .

Thank you, boys . . .

See you at the SUPERBOWL!

VHS Tapes, Why

2011-01-21T11:55:00.000-05:00

I, like legions of others, am embarking on that ubiquitous new-year ritual . . . yep, you guessed it . . . de-cluttering.

Today, I turned my sights to the ottoman and it's dirty, little secret . . . it houses a herd of dinosaurs, known in aged circles as VHS tapes. Yes, tapes. We bought tapes, can you imagine?

Space-wasters, easily damaged, and overly heavy when stored en masse. . . extinct some time ago, though many still lurk around my house.

Culling them today was an illuminating experience, bringing forth many, many questions. Like . . .

When in the world did I like that movie?

Have we ever watched this movie?

Why don't we ever watch this movie?

Why can't I just be honest with myself and admit that I don't get Doctor Zhivago!

So I thinned the herd considerably. (By the way, Hubbo, if you're reading this, you need to review your John Wayne collection, methinks.)

And I am left with still a number of these darned things . . . and yet more questions . . .

Are we the only ones with a VCR still hooked up?

And, the most burning question . . .

Why can't I let go of all of them?

Pathetic, I am.

What about you?

The Roses at Westminister Hall and Other Mysteries

2011-01-19T16:49:00.002-05:00

Warmest birthday wishes to one of my favorite writers, Edgar Allan Poe. As a literature major, I often felt that he and I shared a little wink and an eye roll whenever he was referred to as "a writer of the macabre."

Though most people refer to Edgar Allan Poe as a writer of macabre, I never agree. My interpretation of Poe's work often separated me from my contemporaries and professors, but I insist to this day that I am not wrong. When you read Poe's work, do not take the graphic horror literally. Do not believe for a moment that each character actually exists in the flesh. Almost every Poe story and poem is actually about profound loneliness. Loneliness is most often a character in Poe's work; it lives and breathes and taunts and creates and destroys. Read that way, there is so much more to Poe's work. A "writer of the macabre" is an insulting over-simplification of a brilliant body of work, an ode to loneliness.

Poe was born January 19, 1809; died October 7, 1849. He was only 40 years old.

What many people may not know is that Mr. Poe has been as fascinating in death as he was in life. Quite predictably, there are many rumors and suspicions surrounding his precise burial plot and headstone. Most intriguing, however, may be an individual affectionately referred to as "The Poe Toaster." Beginning in 1949, a mysterious man dressed all in black, save for a white scarf, approached Poe's grave at the stroke of midnight each January 19th. He would say a few words and drink a toast of cognac. Thereafter, he would leave behind the partially empty bottle and three red roses.

This ritual continued, each January 19th, for sixty years. The man seems to have paid his last visit on January 19, 2009.

He did not return in 2010.

The keeper of the cemetery and those who make the pilgrimage each year to witness the tribute hoped that it was an aberration and waited all night this past night, January 19, 2011.

The man, again, was absent.

It is sad and disappointing to see this very soulful tribute come to an end, and now begins the speculation about what, perhaps, has happened to the toasting man.

Personally, this tribute has intrigued and comforted me ever since I learned of it years ago. To think that Poe has had visitors to his grave site, celebrating his date of birth, more than 150 years after his death is so ironic and so tragic that it is beautiful.

AP/Steve Ruark

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

2011-01-19T08:03:00.000-05:00

Osbourn Family Light Spectacular

Disney Hollywood Studios, 2010

Farewell, Christmas magic . . . until next year.

My Boy's a Blogger

2011-01-16T14:07:00.001-05:00

My little guy has decided to start his own blog!

He plans to write the blog from the puppy's point of view and, somehow, that seems right . . . boys and dogs, especially puppies, seem to have quite a lot in common.

If you can spare a moment now that then, he would be thrilled if you'd stop by and say hi: A Puppy's Life.

Thanks!

What's the Kindest Thing a Stranger Has Done?

2011-01-15T10:12:00.000-05:00

1. What's the nicest thing a complete stranger ever did for you?

An older woman, a stranger, once approached me in a store and said, "I feel a little funny saying this, but feel I must. . . You are really beautiful. Really a beauty. Such a pretty, pretty girl." I was so taken aback, I'm not sure I said even a word. I don't think I am beautiful, and I'm not accustomed to that kind of commentary from anyone (other than my sweet husband, God love him). But I had just been through a devastating time in my life, a time when I was shaken to my core and felt as if I wasn't worth the dirt I walked on. Whatever moved that woman to do that for me that day, it picked my spirit out of the trash and gave me something to smile about again.

2. What one thing always speaks deeply to you, to your spirit, no matter your mood or what else is going on in your life?

Perhaps it sounds schmaltzy, but when I hug my son tightly and kiss his cheek, my soul recharges.

3. How many jobs have you held in your life? How many of those were part of your chosen career field?

I've had six jobs total. Two were in the dentistry field which, at the time, was the career path I was on. Two were in the legal field, including having my own small practice, my ultimate career of choice.

4. Of those jobs, how many did you leave voluntarily?

Of the six jobs, I left five voluntarily, but I was never fired or asked to leave. One job required full-time hours when I could only spare part-time hours.

5. How did you discover Saturday 9? How long have you played? (Thank you for joining in!)

On a different blog. I think I have participated, on occasion since last fall.

6. What's the worst beverage you've ever tasted?

Room temperature milk, uck.

7. Is there anything in life you are "certain" about? Firm in your beliefs? Strong in your convictions?

I have found that the older I get, the less sure I am of anything . . . except that my husband loves me.

8. How did you come up with the title of your blog's posts?

I knew that I would never be able to have one of those always-cheerful, the-sun's-always-shining blogs, so I needed a title that would signify that. I've always loved the novel title, "Of Mice and Men." Beginning a title with a preposition seems to suggest that the reader is going places; I like that.

9. Would you consider yourself a good cook?

When I have the time, the interest, and the focus. My natural tendency is not to be, but when I apply myself I can be.

If you want to play along, or merely read more replies, pop over to Crazy Sam's Saturday 9.

Happy Saturday!

Meet My New Boyfriend

2011-01-14T08:28:00.004-05:00

Once our eyes met, I knew I would belong to him forever . . .

A Boston Terrier, he's my gent in a tux.

He's 6 months old.

He follows me everywhere . . .

He smells like gingerbread, somehow. . .

His name is Abbott . . .

And I love him madly.

P.S. Hi Sophie!

A Little Sunshine

2011-01-12T10:56:00.000-05:00

After being pretty down about the harshness of life yesterday, I thought I owed a little cheer today.

Look what a child can do for even the most cynical and tired . . .

Lovely.

When They Hurt

2011-01-11T17:19:00.000-05:00

I remember when my son was learning to walk. I was relating to my mother how difficult it is to watch him fall, flinching every time. I hated to see him hurt, even if it was only a momentary jostle. My mother empathized and then added, "If you think you it's hard to take when he deals with that kind of hurt . . . just wait until someone hurts his feelings. That is excruciating."

I know what she meant now.

My son is, of course, extraordinary. He is perfect in every way. To set your eyes upon him is to feed your soul with joy and contentment. At least that's how I see him.

But I also know that my son is a bit different around his peers. He is quite reserved. And, being mostly a nature-nick, he is a bit out of the loop with many of his compulsive-gaming classmates.

That is not to say that he has no friends. He does. He has a small circle of friends. He's more into the scout crowd than the sports crowd which is a considerably bigger and more raucous group.

Imagine our joy when a new boy joined the class last year. A very polite boy, very science minded, very studious. He and my son became fast friends. An answer to my prayers.

Imagine our anguish when this same boy simply decided one day that he no longer wanted to be my son's friend. No reason given. He just dropped him. We even inquired with the boy's parents about there perhaps being more to the story. No. They were no more helpful than the boy. And now, the worst of all -- if you're 10, anyway -- he did not invite him, despite inviting nearly everyone else, to his birthday party.

My son, who is usually quite reserved and stoic when it comes to displays of emotion, is notably sad and hurt.

Being a proper mama-tiger, I, of course, am incensed. How could someone treat my boy this way? I thought it was teenage girls who did this sort of thing? Isn't this supposed to be one of the advantages of being a boy, simple friendships? And after all our coaching and cajoling to our son about being more outgoing, trusting his friends enough to really be himself. This was his first "best friend." I am crushed for him.

Thanks for listening.

Approaching Normal

2011-01-10T09:53:00.000-05:00

Is it getting too late to say, "Happy new year?"

Every year, I think I go a little overboard wishing everyone I see for the first time in the new year a happy one. I seem to have an almost superstitious compulsion to collect as many "happy new year"-s as possible, hoping that each one will feather my new year's nest and make for an even more wonderful year. So, if I haven't wished you one yet: Happy New Year!

The reason for my tardiness in this regard is a nasty, nasty cold I came down with on 12/29 and only just yesterday (1/9) began feeling human again. Yikes! My advice to you, dear readers: If you feel yourself coming down with a cold right now, take it seriously -- run, don't walk, to drink your fluids and buck up those vitamins. It is a bad one. People around here have been being laid up for at least a week with it and the symptoms run the gambit, leaving none of the classic bad-winter-cold symptoms unsounded.

Finally, I have turned the corner. I got out yesterday -- dressed, make-upped, even shoes on. It felt wonderful. In my celebration of life yesterday -- a.k.a. leaving the house for the first time in more than 10 days -- I took my family out for pancakes, the first non-saltine or broth food in almost a week. Do you realize how delicious pancakes are? Heaven. Too good, really, to be eaten so casually . . . not that I let that stop me. I had a nice little stack.

Then, off to the movies. The King's Speech. Wonderful film. The performances of Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush were just magnificent. Geoffrey Rush's nonverbal performance in this movie is breathtaking and, on occasion, heartbreaking. Really, a beautiful movie. Well worth the time and the ticket price -- a rare thing these days.

Now that I'm back among the living, I have much to catch up on. Never have I been happier to do laundry!

Have a great day,

End of Year Thunks

2010-12-30T12:38:00.000-05:00

1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before? I began seeing things as they really are.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I probably did not keep my new year's resolutions for last year. It was not a year for refining, more a year for surviving. This year, though, I will have some good and serious resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? No.

4. Did anyone close to you die? No.

5. What countries did you visit? None other than my home country.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010? Peacefulness.

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? 4/25/10, a day I began seeing truths. 8/20/10, a day of new beginnings.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Coming to grips with realities and taking steps toward accepting and advancing them.

9. What was your biggest failure? Not being the one capable of fully healing my daughter. (But I am most proud of finding the people who can.)

10. What was the best thing you bought? Piano lessons for my son; they have cracked open a whole new facet of his being.

11. Whose behavior merited celebration? My son's, my husband's. I am a lucky woman.

12. Whose behavior made you appalled and disgusted? If I were to name names here, I would be disappointed in myself. Several, though, unfortunately.

13. What song will always remind you of 2010? Ave Maria by Noa.

14. What do you wish you’d done more of? Relaxing, trusting, accepting.

15. What do you wish you’d done less of? Worrying, lamenting.

16. Did you fall in love in 2010? Yes. I saw yet another side to my husband that makes me love him even more.

17. Who did you miss? My grandmothers, my mother-in-law, my younger self.

18. Who was the best new person you met? Shasta. You amaze me, Sweetie.

I am looking forward to this new year more than most.

How 'bout you?

My thanks to Thursday Thunks. Click here to participate or to lurk.

Heavy Hearted Holidays

2010-12-20T12:18:00.003-05:00

When I was a child, all my Christmases were merry.

I was very blessed.

Now my life is more complex, and this Christmas will be tinged with melancholy and sadness,

But I am still blessed.

And I also know I am not alone.

I dedicate this post to those out there with hearts heavier than their packages this year,

To the walking wounded who will smile and laugh in spite of their darkness,

And to those who will not smile or laugh, but perhaps weep and be still.

You are not forgotten.

These days will pass, I pray,

As I whole-heartedly welcome a new year,
And wish you peace and comfort and joy.

Whose Watchful Eye

2010-12-16T10:47:00.003-05:00

A Soldier’s Christmas Poem

~ written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan

'Twas The Night Before Christmas,
He Lived All Alone,
In A One Bedroom House
Made Of Plaster And Stone.

I Had Come Down The Chimney
With Presents To Give,
And To See Just Who
In This Home Did Live.

I Looked All About,
A Strange Sight I Did See,
No Tinsel, No Presents,
Not Even A Tree.

No Stocking By Mantle,
Just Boots Filled With Sand,
On The Wall Hung Pictures
Of Far Distant Lands.

With Medals And Badges,
Awards Of All Kinds,
A Sober Thought Came Through My Mind.

For This House Was Different,
It Was Dark And Dreary,
I Found The Home Of A Soldier,
Once I Could See Clearly.

The Soldier Lay Sleeping,
Silent, Alone
Curled Up On The Floor
In This One Bedroom Home.

The Face Was So Gentle,
The Room In Such Disorder,
Not How I Pictured
A United States Soldier.

Was This The Hero
Of Whom I'd Just Read?
Curled Up On A Poncho,
The Floor For A Bed?

I Realized The Families
That I Saw This Night,
Owed Their Lives To These Soldiers
Who Were Willing To Fight.

Soon Round The World,
The Children Would Play,
And Grownups Would Celebrate
A Bright Christmas Day.

They All Enjoyed Freedom
Each Month Of The Year,
Because Of The Soldiers,
Like The One Lying Here.

I Couldn't Help Wonder
How Many Lay Alone,
On A Cold Christmas Eve
In A Land Far From Home.

The Very Thought
Brought A Tear To My Eye,
I Dropped To My Knees
And Started To Cry.

The Soldier Awakened
And I Heard A Rough Voice,
"Santa Don't Cry,
This Life Is My Choice;

I Fight For Freedom,
I Don't Ask For More,
My Life Is My God,
My Country, My Corps."

The Soldier Rolled Over
And Drifted To Sleep,
I Couldn't Control It,
I Continued To Weep.

I Kept Watch For Hours,
So Silent And Still
And We Both Shivered
From The Cold Night's Chill.

I Didn't Want To Leave
On That Cold, Dark, Night,
This Guardian Of Honor
So Willing To Fight.

Then The Soldier Rolled Over,
With A Voice Soft And Pure,
Whispered, "Carry On Santa,
It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure."

One Look At My Watch,
And I Knew He Was Right.
"Merry Christmas My Friend,
And May God Bless You This Night."

msnbc

The Seattle Times

Come home soon, safe, and successful.

Merry Christmas

Smooooooch!

2010-12-14T11:19:00.001-05:00

Consider yourself Christmas-smooched!

Smoooooooch!

2010-12-13T14:00:00.001-05:00

Consider yourself Christmas-smooched!

Let's Go to the Pumpkin Farm!

2010-10-08T08:22:00.000-04:00

Can't talk today -- we're all off to the pumpkin farm. It's an annual family outing -- perhaps my favorite of the year. Last year, I took y'all along . . . so here's what we did and what we will be doing again! (We're creatures of habit.)

(From 10/15/09) Okay, go get yourself a cuppa . . . we're going on a field trip!

Every fall, our family piles in the van and sets off in search of our own great pumpkin. We go miles. It takes us all day. It is an event. It just wouldn't suit our family to head to the nearest grocery store -- or even the nearest pumpkin farm -- to get our Halloween pumpkins and fall decorations. No. We must travel far and wide.

We always make it into an adventure -- bringing food and snacks and drinks. The kids usually bring along a companion of the toy variety, usually a stuffed animal or doll of some sort. And we try and go on weekday when the other schools are in session, but ours is not. It makes it much more fun to think of the fun we're having while others are in school, you know.

So we set out early Monday morning for our fall adventure. We stopped at a local market on our way out of town. They have an old-fashioned candy section second to none. There are the old bushel barrels full of individually wrapped candies -- everything from rootbeer barrels to the old-fashioned cough drops in the striped wrappers. There are also the modern candies and the campy kid candy, etc. The seasonal candy is the most fun. Have you seen those seasonal boxes of Dots? "Blood Orange" flavored Bats. There are also Candy Corn striped Dots. And light green Ghost Dots. Who knew? We just had to get the gummy chicken feet! We each also picked our favorites and moved on . . .

(My son chose those little wax bottles with the sweet syrup inside. Remember those? I didn't realize, though, until later, that he thought one ate the whole thing. He was a bit disappointed when we tutored him on biting the "top" off and drinking the liquid and discarding the rest. Such a waste to him. Remember that lesson?)

Anyway, we continued on and finally reached our first pumpkin farm and pie stand. I took several pictures of the place, but somehow missed the camera wrist strap hanging right in front of the lens!

Well, you get the idea. See the size of those pumpkins?

This is an Amish farm and pie stand. This year, they had the most incredible pumpkins. Huge! And wonderful varieties. Not one of these would be found in the typical grocery store. Unfortunately, unlike the pumpkins, the pies have declined. I suspect they are under new ownership -- more focus on farming, less on baking. Oh well, that'll be better for my waistline.

We bought two huge pumpkins and one smaller white pumpkin here. We had to use a wheelbarrow to get them to the van, one at a time. I couldn't lift one for even a moment. Hugest pumpkins we've ever bought -- and for the price we usually pay for the typical pumpkins. Wow!

I had to laugh at this scene in the parking lot:

Man's Work! It was all fun and games picking out the behemoth pumpkins; the work came in getting them in the vans!

And we "grin and buy it." Corn shocks, I mean.

We know, full well, that the farmers must laugh at the city kids that actually pay for these, but I can't help it, I don't have a corn field out my back door and they look pretty by the front door this time of year.

Then off we went to the next destination. This is a wonderful place that really defies description. Picture an elderly couple with the energy of kids. They have a salvage, woodworking, petting farm kind of place. It is charming, yet a tad curmudgeonly, all at the same time. We were treated to this sign as we parked:

Charming!

But then you turn around, and you see this beautiful, wonderful, amazing barn, all painted by the same hands that made that sign:

I wish I could post a larger image of it. (Hey, I just realized you can click on it to see it larger! If you do, notice the bike in front covered in dried grapevines and lights . . . 'tis one of the things we bought! And wouldn't that rusty bed make a great garden feature . . . "flowerbed?!") This barn is at least 30' high and all handpainted. It is a mural of himself and his wife and their dog. That is them at the top, childhood sweethearts, sitting under a tree next to a wagon. There they are at the lower right in modern day, they must be in their 80s. The window on the top left is real; the window on the top right is painted. Something, eh?

You could wander around in this and another barn for hours, but then there are the grounds which hold any and everything. He has salvaged vintage windows stacked up side by side, like books on a shelf, by the hundreds. Clawfoot bathtubs leaning in a row, probably 15 or so. I didn't think to get a picture of these things as they really become part of the landscape after you become accustomed to this place.

If you wander around long enough, you'll come upon this fella:

He's friendly enough as long as you don't come inside his gate. He turns all around so you can see how fancy he is. He really is beautiful. He has a missus, but she's quite shy. He says not a word until you turn your back to walk away.

So we wandered and wandered and ended up buying a couple of things for which we already had no room in the van. We'll have to make another trip back either this weekend or next. I'm sure you can imagine, I'm not too sad about that!

Up the road a couple of miles, we finally come to our pumpkin farm. It is a little family farm that has been in the current owner's family for generations. She and her husband and children grow so many varieties of pumpkins and gourds, it boggles the mind.

That's her on the right, in the apron: the maiden of the gourd.

There were pumpkins, literally, everywhere!

We spent a lot of time choosing the pumpkins we bought. Everyone got one plain-ish pumpkin to make a jack-o-lantern and then we branched out into the decorative and useful ones as well.

I sought the maiden's advice on which variety would be best for pumpkin butter. I plan to try my hand at that this fall. The kids love it in their oatmeal and it is oh-so nutritious. Stay tuned for that wild ride.

As they day came to an end, we packed everything in and headed home.

Now, to get them arranged and, later, carved -- it's been raining since just about the moment we arrived back home!

P.S. Anyone who has read this far deserves a treat. Go here to carve your own virtual pumpkin -- and you can make and print the stencil so you can bring it to life. (Those of you in lands devoid of Halloween festivities . . . you know you've always wanted to make a jack-o-lantern. G'won!)

Carrot Cake Jam

2010-10-07T16:23:00.001-04:00

I heard from a dear old friend of mine today.

She said she'd been thinking of me, because she has pears, ripe pears . . . lots of ripe pears.

See, a few years ago, I gave her a recipe for Carrot Cake Jam . . . and it's that good.

Give it a try:

(By the way . . . as to the music . . . sorry, I couldn't resist! Who remembers this little gem? Oh, the good ole days! I remember rollerskating to this -- strobe light, disco ball, the whole thing . . . :)

Carrot Cake Jam

1 ½ c. finely grated peeled carrots
1 ½ c. chopped cored peeled pears
1 ¾ c. canned pineapple, including juice
3 TB lemon juice
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground nutmeg
½ tsp ground cloves
1 pkg (1.75 oz) regular powdered fruit pectin
6 ½ c. sugar

Prepare canner jars and lids.

In large, deep stainless steel saucepan, combine carrots, pears, pineapple, lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. Bring to boil over high heat, stirring frequently.

Reduce heat, cover, and boil gently for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Remove from heat and whisk in pectin until dissolved. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring frequently.

Add sugar all at once and return to full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Boil hard, stirring constantly, for 1 minute.

Remove from heat and skim off foam.

Ladle hot jam into hot jars, leaving ¼ inch headspace. Remove air bubbles and adjust headspace, if necessary, by adding hot jam.

Wipe rim. Center lid on jar. Screw band down until resistance is met, then increase to fingertip-tight.

Place jars in canner, ensuring they are completely covered with water. Bring to a boil and process for 10 minutes.

Remove canner lid. Wait 5 minutes, then remove jars, cool and store.

(Makes approx. 4 cups.)

This, slathered on a warm bagel along with a bit of cream cheese . . . yum!

Enjoy!

Hi C!

Wednesday Wit

2010-10-06T08:52:00.000-04:00

I myself have 12 hats,

and each one represents a different personality.

Why just be yourself?

(Margaret Atwood)

Warm Chicken

2010-10-04T11:15:00.000-04:00

It particularly touches my heart when people find it in their own hearts to care for the very least of us: the animals.

Some of the animals most in need of help are the battery hens. The ones who have probably made your breakfast a time or two . . . or twenty.

A battery hen is a hen that has been kept in a large egg-production factory farm all her life. Their quarters are so tight and the conditions are so poor for these poor dears, they are often deprived of darkness (and therefore valuable rest) and even room to move. And once these hens fail to produce eggs at their maximum rate, they are typically destroyed. Quite a sad little life.

The good news is, there are incredible human beings out there who rescue and rehome these hens.

Little Hen Rescue in the U.K. is one such collection of awesome human beings.

They take these hens from the battery farms and organize to find new, happy homes for them.

If you have it in your heart, you might consider adopting a few ex-battery hens. How rewarding it must be to watch them roam free in the sunshine for the very first time.

Perhaps you would like to help in another way, . The way I have chosen to help in the past is to knit up some little hen jumpers. That's right, chicken sweaters! It's not as silly as it sounds. Most ex-battery hens suffer from some degree of featherlessness. When they are removed from their tight conditions, they are bald and cold -- having become accustomed to sharing the body heat of their neighboring hens. While they regrow their feathers, they are helped by wearing a little sweater to help keep warm and secure.

Now how cute is that . . .

If you're interested, you can find patterns for knitters and seamstresses here. Just whip one up and send it to the address they have listed on their page. I bet you can't make just one!

Decency and good deeds abound . . . if you only look for them.

Scattered Smiles

2010-10-03T19:42:00.000-04:00

What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.

These are but trifles, to be sure;

But scattered about along life's pathway,

the good they do is inconceivable. ~ Joseph Addison

I Re-Dedicate This Blog

2010-10-02T09:00:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I'm back.

I've been gone.

I've been hurting.

My family has gone through some changes, and my daughter is not living with us.

It is what is best for her.

As for us, it has been a time of heartbreak as well as a time of relief.

I have a few dear friends -- and you know who you are -- who have been so loving and so supportive. I truly do not know where I would be at this moment without them.

And there have been some disappointments.

Many people are unhappy with this change.

Many people have judged us harshly.

My son has lost not only a sister, but he has lost some of his extended family.

This hurts me beyond words.

So it has been a time of primal sadness,

and of deepest gratitude.

I see more clearly than ever whom I can count on, who loves me, and what love truly feels like.

I am here to testify to the importance of small gestures.

A note, a smile, a tender word, an understanding pause when there is nothing to say.

More valuable than gold.

It can save a life.

So as I find my way through this dark time in my life, I re-purpose this blog.

I now dedicate this blog to help soothe the souls of the walking wounded.

This will be a place, hopefully, of uplift, of reassurance, of kindness, of tenderness, a refuge.

I dedicate myself to finding, noticing, and sharing the kindnesses in life, the tender mercies, the light.

It seems to me, we could all use more of that just now.

So please bear with me as I find my new way. I will not be talking so much about myself as I process and heal. It is not for any other reason other than that where I am right now defies words, mine anyway.

I will be working to make this blog a provocation for more kindness and more tenderness and support in the world.

I want you to leave this blog happier than you came. If not happier, perhaps more reassured or perhaps more content or perhaps just a bit more soothed and loved.

I have heard it said that you receive what you give . . . I know not where, perhaps in my own heart . . . so I send this blog out . . . setting such notion, sentiment, and intent in motion, free to find its way to those who need and, admittedly, in hopes of lifting up myself as well.

I bid you peace, comfort, and friendship.

2010-10-02T01:54:00.006-04:00

The fact that I can plant a seed

and it becomes a flower,

share a bit of knowledge

and it becomes another's,

smile at someone

and receive a smile in return . . .

those, to me, are continual spiritual exercises.

~ Leo Buscaglia

Blogtoberfest

2010-10-01T11:40:00.000-04:00

The very best thing about blogging is the opportunity it provides to meet new people, people you would never ever have the opportunity to meet otherwise.

It never stops being a thrill to me to think that I have had conversations with people on the other side of this planet as well as people just down the road, all of whom I would have never otherwise met.

One of the most intense, concentrated, focused, and fun ways to meet new bloggers is to participate in Blogtoberfest. Anyone can join in. All you have to do is go to TinnieGirl's blog and add your link. By submitting your link, you agree to post a new post each and every day in October (or the days that remain in October -- you can join late). Then, you also do your best to visit as many participant's as possible.

It's like a world-wide block party!

Pull up a lawn chair!

Inspiration

2010-09-30T08:49:00.001-04:00

Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile. ~ Mother Theresa

This photo just speaks to my heart. The connection between MT and that child, how soothing and joyful her look . . . what food for the soul. (I'm pretty sure it was special for the baby, too.) I could stare into this photo for hours; it fills my heart.

Mother Theresa resigned from her teaching job and devoted her life to serving the poorest of the poor at age 38. For me, what is most inspiring about Mother Theresa is that she spent all of her adult life grieving the alienation she felt from her Lord. At the age of 12, she felt a strong calling to missionary work. All her life, she waited and pleaded for another moment of such grace, such connectedness with her God; that moment of grace never again came.

She served in the darkest corners of this earth every day of her life, until she died at age 86.

Pure faith.

I Had to Laugh

2010-09-29T16:45:00.000-04:00

I signed myself up for a little class on de-stressing. It was just a single session thing offered through the county. Heaven knows I could use help in de-stressing lately. What did I have to lose?

So I walk in and am greeted by an apprehensive-looking woman who reluctantly informs me that the class has been canceled due to lack of enrollment.

Canceled.

No notice.

And not even an apology.

To say I was aggravated is an understatement. This is not the first time the county has canceled programs I've enrolled in at the last minute, and I was really looking forward to this one.

She and I had a little discussion exploring the business practices of alienating the little business one does actually have left. Her uninterested gaze reminded me that I was not dealing with a business person, I was dealing with a bureaucrat. So I ended the discussion and left.

Onc my way home, I spent a little more time dwelling on the situation.

And I had to laugh.

Imagine being in that woman's shoes.

Having to cancel a class at the very last moment like that.

And not any class, a stress management class --

In person,

to a stress case.

Hmmmm.

No wonder she looked so apprehensive.

Maybe I didn't get the worst part of that situation this morning.

A Devil of a Dessert

2010-09-29T09:35:00.000-04:00

In the mood for a little riddle?

What does this:

This:

Equal?

This:

Okay, here's the story.

Today is the feast of St. Michael the Archangel (Michaelmas).

Legend has it that St. Michael is responsible for driving the devil out of Heaven, wherein he landed in . . .

A blackberry bramble! Ooooch!!

And he was maaad!

So according to an old Irish folk tale, blackberries should be harvested and used up by this date, because the devil returns each year to find, curse, and spit on the fruits of the plant he landed on, rendering them inedible thereafter. So use them up!

Sounds like a good of a reason to make a quick blackberry cobbler as any, so here is a good recipe.

Blackberry Cobbler

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups white sugar, divided
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
6 tablespoons cold butter
1/4 cup boiling water
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 cup cold water
1 tablespoon lemon juice
4 cups fresh blackberries, rinsed and drained

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil.
In a large bowl, mix the flour, 1/2 cup sugar, baking powder, and salt. Cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in 1/4 cup boiling water just until mixture is evenly moist.
In a separate bowl, dissolve the cornstarch in cold water. Mix in remaining 1 cup sugar, lemon juice, and blackberries. Transfer to a cast iron skillet, and bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Drop dough into the skillet by spoonfuls. Place skillet on the foil lined baking sheet.
Bake 25 minutes in the preheated oven, until dough is golden brown.

This recipe is from AllRecipes. com, but I can personally vouch for it, except I usually substitute freshly ground nutmeg for the cinnamon and get a splash of vanilla in somewhere.

So there you have it.

I think I may make a batch of fresh vanilla ice cream to go on top while I'm at it.

Enjoy!

Saturday 9

2010-09-17T17:16:00.001-04:00

1. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday. I have big holes in my life right now.

2. If you could wake up tomorrow with a new talent, what would it be? Sewing, I think. All my life, my mother wanted me to take sewing lessons. As a child and a teen, I could think of nothing more boring, but I should have listened to her.

3. Who is someone you would like to go back into your past and talk to and why? My grandmother. I miss her, I need her support and love, and answers to questions.

4. What is your favorite meal eating out? Oh, I don't know. We're pretty casual right now. A good fish & chips, maybe. Or a big cheesy pizza with all the time in the world.

5. Do you feel energized or drained by being in a group situation? Usually energized, assuming I know the people well. If they are new to me, or I to them, then I retreat a bit.

6. What word do you use far too frequently? I am ashamed to say, I still say, "Cool." It sounds really, really stupid coming from me at this point in my life . . . but I grew up saying it and it has been really hard to stop. Besides that, probably "absurd." I am finding a lot of absurdity in the world right now, aren't you?

7. What’s a word you’ve invented? Can't tell you until the patent comes through. ;)

9. What is your absolute favorite piece of furniture you have and why? I have an art deco dressing table. It is covered entirely in beveled mirrors, with bakelite handles, three-piece mirror, and mirror-covered bench. I love it, because I like to dream and muse about who got dressed at that table when it was new, what did the room look like, where she was going, what kind of make-up did it hold, what kind of jewelry? I could spend days musing about that. Unfortunately, a small corner got broken in our last move. Anyone know of a way to restore old piece like this? Do restorers replace old mirror with old mirror? The few I've talked to don't have any ideas.

Happy Saturday 9!

Repost: Chilling Questions

2010-09-06T19:39:00.001-04:00

Right now, I'm not in a mind to conjure up anything new to write about, so I thought I would repost something from last year at this time. Since my blog had fewer than 20 followers then, it will be new to most all of you. . . Here goes:

I lose a little more respect for my family each time I clean out the refrigerator.

No really.

Who lives like this? Who?

Are we a pack of raccoons?

Squirrels?

Who saved all this stuff? And who wasted all this stuff? For example, not one, but two jars of applesauce-- moldy? Two?? One is bad enough, but two?

And who bought the tube of pesto? A tube. Of pesto. We're more of a "pour and go" family. Jars. I buy toothpaste in tubes and that's about it. And bigger tubes than that.

And all those little ketchup and mustard packets? Do we really think we're going to use those? We're really going to dig those out from under the giant ketchup bottle that rests on top of all those pitiful, little packets? Sure we will. And how did those get in there in the first place? Perhaps they spawned from the ketchup and mustard bottles, together, right next to each other. I don't know.

All questions for minds quicker than mine.

And here's another one . . .

How does all that lint get in there? Who is changing their clothes in the refrigerator!?

That's not that far-fetched, you know. The smell that prompted this latest cleaning tirade conjured images of my son's wadded up socks smoldering in the lettuce crisper.

It turned out to be the butter.

Don't ask me. Quicker minds, I told you.

Thursday Thunks

2010-08-26T16:19:00.000-04:00

It's Thursday and, stuck for topics as I seem to be lately, I will make use of this handy little meme:

Thursday Thunks

1. To whom did you last give the finger? The guy in the burgundy pickup truck who risked both of our lives in order to not let me into his lane. But I only did it with my mind ~ which, if you knew me, you would know is far wicked-er.

2. If you had 1,000 dollars and HAD to spend it, what would you buy? A new kitchen table set. We need a new, round one . . . with new energy.

3. What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? Coffee, all down the front of my white shirt . . . and then I had to walk around like that for the rest of the day. ugh

4. When was the last photograph you took? What was it of? The last photo I took was of a bookstand in IKEA. My boy and I are trying to take pictures, when we are together, of architectural elements that resemble letters (like those new, trendy art pieces) and plan to spell out f-a-m-i-l-y. That bookstand will be the capital "I."

5. Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence? A very drunk, very high, very tattooed, almost naked young woman who came up and talked to my friend and I as we walked through the county fair. I guess the fact that my friend was walking her two sheep reminded the young woman of her cat and, somehow, her step-mother. It was an odd conversation.

6. What animal did you last pet or hold? My little-old-man dog, Jasper. We adopted him last February and, being 10 years old and set in his ways, he has no idea what to do with affection. I try to give him his space, but every once in a while I just can't stand it any longer and simply must cuddle him. And so I did, last night. And he hated almost every minute of it.

7. What was the last superstitious thing you did? Insisted that my husband knock on wood after he said a particularly positive thing about something. And then I forced him to do it again when he knocked, rather dismissively, on metal rather than wood the first time.

8. What was the last text message you received? "Hi! I'm here! I'm in 'baggage claim.' Let me know when you get here. I can't believe it!"

9. What was the last musical instrument played in your presence? My son began piano lessons this past June. He practices every day. I love hearing his "Good King Wenceslas," even if it is 95 degrees right now.

10. What was the last note that you wrote on your hand? Absolutely no idea. It had to be in grade school.

11. What are you wearing as you answer these ridiculously stupid TT questions? It depends upon whom is asking.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

2010-08-25T11:59:00.000-04:00

By the school calendar, it is the last week of summer . . .

Make a splash!

Sandwiches are Good

2010-08-19T15:31:00.000-04:00

And now, to completely lighten the mood, I must share with you that I won a most fabulous giveaway over at Sandwich 365. It is a gift card to CSNstores.com, and I am so excited.

My thanks to Keri for both her giveaway and her deliciously fun blog. If you like sandwiches ~ and who doesn't ~ or even just good blogging, you have to check out her very original, very fun blog.

I'll bet not even Keri knew that my favorite quote about life involves a sandwich . . .

I had been going to college at night, part-time for nearly 5 years. It was time to start making some decisions. I felt the call of law school, yet was daunted by the time, cost, and challenge that law school and, later, a legal career would mean. I looked to my favorite English professor for some perspective. He was a lawyer by day and an English Lit. prof by night. I summed up my issues and desires and apprehensions. I shared my worries about the expense of law school and the financial struggle it would be. I asked him what he thought, to which he answered:

"Life is short. Do what you want. You can always find someone who'll make you a sandwich."

So there you have it. And he is right. For the most part, people are kind and, should you need it, they will help you. Lean on that knowledge when you need some comfort and encouragement and then set your shoulders back and get on with it.

Thanks, Professor Campenni!

And thanks, again, to Keri at Sandwich 365 ~

About My Daughter

2010-08-14T14:05:00.002-04:00

If you've read my blog long enough, you've probably noticed that I can go on and on about my beautiful boy, but seldom mention much about my daughter.

I've noticed that, too, and rather than continue being self-conscious about it, I thought I would just explain.

As I've mentioned before, we adopted our daughter from Ukraine at 16 months old. And while most people think she was just a baby when we brought her home, that is not the truth.

The first 16 months of my daughter's life were filled with fear, pain, and utter loneliness. A healthy baby abandoned at a poor hospital, it took the hospital 6 months to get around to placing her in the nearest orphanage. Healthy babies don't get much attention at a poor, over-wrought hospital. She was named by the village registrar as she filled out the transfer forms. My daughter did not have a name for the first 6 months of her life.

Once she arrived at the orphanage, she quickly became ill with constant infections related to poor hygiene. By the time we found her in the children's hospital, she had been in the hospital three other times with kidney infections and she suffered with whooping cough, all by 16 months old.

So we did not bring home a baby. We brought home a cold, hardened little girl who was already world weary and emotionally stunted. But we believed we could help her and have devoted the past 6 years to doing just that.

We tried to just "love her through it." We showered her with love, time, and affection. It made her more frightened and combative. We tried giving her space and patience. All she did was retreat further. We tried family counseling. My husband and I explored things in our own pasts that may have been complicating our relationship with our daughter. Our self-understanding improved, but our daughter did not.

Finally, we tried an attachment therapist. And it was only then that things made sense. Our daughter has Reactive Attachment Disorder. She rejects an emotional bond with anyone. She does not love; she cannot love. Any emotional intimacy simply terrifies her, on a subconscious level, and she works to repel any emotional connection with anyone. She operates, emotionally and mentally, as if she is still an orphan. She feels especially threatened by a parental relationship. She rejects it openly. Her heart is locked away, "safe" from all people. She trusts no one, she loves no one, she believes she needs no one.

Emotionally, she cannot distinguish between strangers and family. When I explain that my daughter does not love me, it offends the sensitivities of the average person and they argue with me, emphatically believing that she does love me. They argue partly to spare my feelings, but even more to protect their own understanding of what a child is: innocent, pure-hearted, vessels of love. But my daughter does not love me. And she doesn't love you. She loves no one.

In order to preserve this emotional solitude, she must repel any and all close relationships. All she knows is that she feels happier and more comfortable when there is distance, the more the better. Distance is created by tension. Tension is created in any number of ways; open defiance or passive aggression. All you will know, if you are around my daughter long enough, is that you feel bad around her. If she is around you enough, you will feel bad all the time, even after she's gone to school, gone to bed, is off playing alone. You start to shut down emotionally, yourself. You stay within yourself; you feel so heartsick that you begin to believe you have nothing to offer anyone; nothing anyone would want. If your own child does not want you, who else would? That is the state my daughter, subconsciously, works to affect in anyone close to her.

This is where my family is right now with my daughter. It happened slowly and systematically. First, it was just me, and I thought I was just having difficulty adjusting to a challenging child. I began loathing myself for my seeming weakness in the face of her challenges. And I had help from others in this self-loathing. People have perceived me, at times, to be cold toward my daughter, not hugging her enough, etc. When I was weak, I agreed with them, pushing aside the reality that, unless there was someone else watching, she recoiled at my touch, my hug, my affection. I began to believe that., somehow, I was the problem for my daughter.

Then my husband began to struggle. He was surprised at how quickly and deeply he would lose his temper with her. Always a remarkably patient person, the change in him was notable. He began to hate himself for how easily angered he was with her.

And now it has happened with my son. The nicest kid in the world, he is no longer interested in playing with or even really speaking much with his sister. She does all she can to hurt him because she has finally figured out that the easiest and most undeniable way to incense us is to hurt him. And she is right.

We have been working diligently and tirelessly to save our daughter and to save our family. We have become a "therapeutic family" for her which is a "through the looking glass" type of parenting that, to see it, appears bizarre and harsh; emotions are removed, seemingly, and unbending rigidity is replaced. Again, onlookers perceive that we are hard on our daughter. The reality is, our daughter is hard on us, and we are fighting for our lives here. If my daughter cannot be healed, she will live a life of emotional and moral turpitude, and the rest of us will suffer as we watch her live so miserably.

The one blessing out of this struggle is that it allows us to see and love and appreciate every moment with our son. We take very little for granted. We appreciate that he is happy to see us in the morning and that he says goodnight with a kiss before bed. That he hugs us and smiles and means it. That he will not malign us when our backs are turned. That we can see him enjoy things and that he enjoys things that we enjoy. That his heart is at peace when we are happy. It is a blessing to appreciate his touch and to notice that his eyes meet mine. It is a gift that I look forward to seeing him, and he smiles when he sees me. It is an act of love that he tells us when he is sick or hurt and that he calls for us after a bad dream. Do you know that a child makes a choice to depend you when she is sick? Do you realize what an act of trust it is when a child calls for you after she has thrown up in her bed? Do you know that some children would choose to sleep in their own vomit than give over enough of themselves to ask for help? This is the perspective my daughter has brought to our lives. And this is why I have endless moments to cherish with my son. And why I struggle so with so little to write about my daughter.

It is not that I don't love my daughter, I do; with all my heart. But loving my daughter, in all honesty, is about withstanding pain more than it is about enjoying moments of love. And that is not something easy or pleasant to write about.

So please forgive me if my writings seem to exclude my daughter. It is not for lack of love, but for lack of beautiful moments.

For more information on Reactive Attachment Disorder, I recommend: ATTACh

One more thing, there are more of us out there than you might think. If you see a family where the dynamics seem to be just a little bit "off" and you are about to conclude that the mom is just "mean" or cold or controlling, please consider for a moment that there may be much more to the picture than you can see . . . and then say a prayer for strength for her and peace for the child. I would appreciate it so much. Thank you.

Nature-Nick Does The Fair

2010-08-12T12:55:00.000-04:00

(not my son, not our fair)

The county fair begins this weekend.

Before my son came along, if my husband and I went to the fair, it was mainly to shop the novelty stands, play a few carnival games, and have a beer or two. If we didn't find a good band or an interesting act to watch, it was an early night.

Then along came my boy and, as kids are apt to do, he turned the lights on in our lives and even the fair is a new place brimming with things we had never noticed before.

I had no idea what we were missing.

My boy is a nature-nick. He gardens and raises his own worms and newts; he has his own pond, and he even cooks. He loathes rides, loud music, and mainstream mayhem.

When he was 5 years old, I got him started on making cookies and entering them in the fair. I thought it would be a one-year lark. He won first-place in the oatmeal category and that was it. Ever since, he takes his cookies very seriously. He has become a full-blown oatmeal cookie snob. And when he goes to enter his cookies, he takes on an aire of an Iron Chef entering Kitchen Stadium. Serious business.

(Sophistication magazine)

Then we enter his pinewood derby car in the arts building. He is feeling pretty confident this year since the body of his car actually holds water (a la snowglobe). Pretty cool, I must say.

When we return to the fair once it is actually open, we must first check out the cookie placings. He is used to getting either first or second place. If not, we may be drowning our sorrows in a snow cone before heading over to check out the pinewood derby car category. Since very few people seem to realize they can enter their derby cars, the competition is not usually very stiff.

Then we head straight over to the native garden plot put on by the local extension office. He shakes them down for all kinds of information. They don't take him seriously at first, but once he refers to some plants by name and asks a question they don't know the answer to, he earns their respect. By the time we are leaving them, they are reminding him of the minimum age for volunteers in their office.

From there, we shop the booths looking for cheap lucky bamboo. It's amazing the price breaks people will give an earnest kid.

Then we hit the chicken barn and my son does his patented rooster call -- guaranteed to bend the ear of every rooster in the place and get an impassioned response from every single one of them. We leave the place a'rocking and a'cackling.

We stroll through the goat barn while we discuss the ins and outs of having goats, legally, in the city. Then we discuss the practicality in hiding goats in the city.

We will offer him an ice cream cone from the dairy barn, but when he confirms that the ice cream is not made on-site from the dairy cows we just petted, he will imply that it is a misleading scam and opt for a funnel cake instead.

After that we make a bee-line for the midway.

But it's not what you think.

My boy went on one ride too many last year at Hershey Park. He's now traumatized. No rides in his near future. But we head to the midway just far enough to find the fishbowl game. He has been saving his money for weeks. We will play until we win at least one -- even if he needs parental subsidies to finally score one. That fish wins the lottery because it will live in my son's pond along with prior years' winners, swimming freely and feasting lavishly on plant roots and larvae.

On our way out, we will meander through the agricultural barn and marvel at the beautiful flowers and huge vegetables. My son will outrageously claim that his sunflowers are every bit as big as the grand prize winner. My husband and I begin to question his visual accuracy.

All the way back to the car, we listen to him hatching a plan to grow the hugest pumpkin and the biggest sunflower and the reddest tomato for next year.

On the way home, he will implore us again to agree with him that his sunflower is way bigger. We will just sigh and roll our eyes.

Once we get home, no matter how late, he will want to float the fish bag in the pond and release his new tenant as soon as possible.

(his pond was still under construction in this pic)

I must admit, it is a specially satisfying feeling to watch a little fish who, just hours ago had a gloomy future, find his way out of the bag and finally realize he is free. The long, fast sprints of swimming are joyous to watch. Eventually, the fish finds the pond's depths and disappears from our view for the night.

We all come back inside and get ready for bed.

That's what the fair looks like when you're traveling with my boy; a nature-nick's take on the fair.

And I thought we'd been to the fair before him . . .

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

2010-08-11T09:07:00.000-04:00

Peace on Earth,

Good will toward All,

From my pets to yours!

This dog is being nominated for sainthood someday!

Award

2010-08-09T09:35:00.002-04:00

Traci at 38 and Growing gave me this wonderful award. She has a wonderful blog that you should consider checking out if you get the chance.

So, guess what? I'm supposed to tell you 7 things you don't know about me. I am beginning to wonder what there is I can tell you that:

1. You don't already know.
2. I don't mind you knowing.

Hmmm, let's see . . .

1. I once went 5 full days and nights without eating a thing, only drinking water. Dumb, very dumb.

2. People who barely know me believe me to be a very confident person. The truth is, I am actually one of the most insecure people you'll ever meet.

3. I've only sent my picture to one online acquaintance, ever. Unless you meet me in person, you probably won't ever know what I look like.

4. I don't like nuts in brownies. They ruin perfectly good brownies; I just don't see why people are so quick to do that.

5. I've always wished I had a sister. I've always felt a lack of women in my life.

6. I spend time noticing that often the most idealistic people are also the most negative and I wonder whether they ever realize that.

7. I think Robert Redford is an absolutely horrid actor. Very handsome, but a horrid actor. I just don't get it.

Okay, now I'm supposed to pass this award along, but I am always hesitant to do so because I dread leaving someone out, many blogs no longer accept awards, and I worry you won't actually want it (see #2).

So, if you're reading this and think you'd like to participate, please snag the picture of the award above and go to it. Come back here and leave your link so people can find you. Okay? Okay.

Thanks again, Traci! I love your blog.

Saturday 9

2010-08-07T13:58:00.001-04:00

Happy Saturday! I don't know about you, but I think this past week was one of the longest in my entire life. I take refuge this weekend.

Time for the Saturday 9:

1. How many of your friendships have lasted more than ten years? Which of your current friends do you feel will still be important to you ten years from now? In my adult life? I think, sadly, I would have to say none. Yikes! But, in my defense, it has been a very fluid 15 years or so in college, moving, moving again, having a family, etc.

2. When you look at yourself in the mirror, what’s the first thing you look at? My hair. In this humidity, it is usually quite the spectacle. Ugh!

3. Who was the most recent person on your missed call list on your cell phone? What’s your relationship with the person? My daughter's therapist. She is my lifeline these days.

4. What did your last text message you received on your cell phone say? "Hi! Can you believe it's me?? I'm seeing if I can get this text thing to work. I'm going to send this now."

5. How would you “label” yourself? I have no idea what to make of myself.

6. What was your favorite age that you’ve been? I think the first year of my son's life was the best -- everything was simple and happy and within my control. I was 30. Or maybe back when I was 19 or so and thought I knew everything and could handle anything.

7. What is your current desk top picture? What’s it significant? Our chickens eating some watermelon, a fun summertime image.

8. What was the last thing you said to someone that you‘d like to take back? Nothing, honestly. I am very good at not saying things I don't mean.

9. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to go back in time and fix all your mistakes which would you choose? Truthfully, I would GIVE all I will ever earn to be able to go back to fix my mistakes. Not that there are many. Just one. A big one, that's all.

Pop over to Crazy Sam to participate or find other participants.

Have a weekend!

I'm 1!

2010-08-06T16:58:00.001-04:00

One year ago today, I began this blog.

I registered with Blogger and away we went.

I have met people who live down the road as well as down-under, from women with sheep to boys with chickens, people who knit and people who cook and, gasp!, people who do both. Women and moms, fathers and men, and even a dog; you all bring something special to my life and I cherish those things.

I have laughed with you and cried with you . . . I've written when the words come easy and when they must be forced onto the page and glued down to stay there.

And you, my dear readers, have been most generous and patient with me. You've read it all. You've read when I've had something to say and when I've felt like I had nothing to say.

I thank you for all the times you've stopped by and for every comment you've left. I have honestly treasured every one.

And I thank you for the company and hours of companionship you have given me through your own blogs. Your talents overwhelm and inspire me.

You have enhanced my life.

Thank you.

An Important Sandwich

2010-08-05T10:08:00.001-04:00

A bridge was crossed yesterday. A milestone reached. And I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I was up to my eyeballs in paperwork, telephone calls, and official emails. Lunchtime descended. My son broached the subject of what to eat. Food and serving food was the last thing on my mind. What was on my mind was what was on the paper in my hands.

That's when it happened.

Without even looking up from the document I was reviewing, I asked my son to make his own lunch . . . his own sandwich, namely.

And he did it.

Somehow, while I continued to read on, he located the bread, the peanut butter, the jelly, the apple, and even selected a yogurt.

And he ate.

And then cleaned up.

I finally tore myself away from my desk long enough to take him to his chess meet.

And then I went back to my reading and my calling and my waiting to be called.

And then we ran errands for three hours.

And pretty soon I was kissing my boy goodnight.

And it was only after I sat down with my husband and reviewed the day's happenings that I realized that my son had made his own lunch for the very first time. And my heart squeezed a little.

He's ten years old. More than capable of making his own sandwich, I know. And I know it is something he should be relied upon to do from time to time, with growing frequency as he gets older.

But, from the time he was born, I promised myself I would not miss a thing. I would not take anything for granted. I promised myself, and my boy, that I would not wake up one day with a grown man for a son and not remember it happening. That I would take notice of the little things, the measures of progress, and the milestones, for I fervently believe my great-grandmother's adage, "Every step they take is a step away from you."

My boy took a big step away from me yesterday. He made his own sandwich. And from now on, it will be nice if I make him a sandwich, but not necessary. Not necessary.

And it did, it snuck by me in an instant when I wasn't paying attention.

One more step away from me.

Time goes so quickly when you're watching a child grow.

My boy is on his way.

But as I look around the house, I am comforted. . .

With all the socks he has still not learned to put in the hamper, he won't get too far.

Thursday Thunks

2010-08-04T11:30:00.000-04:00

Time for Thursday Thunks . . .

1. Do you have any special talents? Tell us about them. Well, I've been told I'm a pretty good arguer. Wanna make somethin' of it?

2. What is your favorite sound? Hmmmm . . . probably my son's, "Good Morning, Mommy!" or maybe the chimes on a town clock or perhaps the angelic voices of a boys' choir. the coo of a mourning dove . . . how can anyone answer this?

3. What was your favorite TV show as a child or teen? I was big into Little House on the Prairie as a child, I confess.

4. There are a lot of specialty TV networks now devoted to things like golf, gardening, shopping, game shows, sports, news and sci-fi. Do you have any favorite TV networks? I like the Food Network and the new Cooking TV.

5. What is your guilty pleasure TV show? The Real Housewives of ______. What? Oh, you love them, too!

6. Have you ever dreamt that you made love to someone you haven’t yet met? Yes, and that's all I'm saying unless you buy me dinner.

7. What is your favorite sci-fi movie? King Kong -- classic.

8. What is your favorite reality show? It's a tie between Top Chef and Project Runway. (Tie -- clothing humor, get it?)

9. When shopping at the grocery store, do you always return your cart? Of course I do . . . what kind of psychopath do you think I am?

10. Do you take compliments well? I'm horrible at it. Don't say anything nice or I will have to argue with you until I win (see answer to #1).

To read more answers or to participate yourself, click over to Thursday Thunks.

Saturday 9

2010-07-31T08:09:00.001-04:00

Happy Saturday!

Here's this week's Saturday 9. Check out Crazy Sam to read other entries or to participate yourself.

1. Is there anything that you tend to do to cheer up when you are having a bad day? Not really. I am not very good at pulling myself out of moods, I'm afraid ~ usually have to sleep it off.

2.What’s the last card game you played, and with whom did you play? Taught my little guy how to play Double Solitaire . . . I used to play with my grandma until the wee hours of the morning; he hasn't taken to it the same way. Drat.

3.What’s the last board game you played, and with whom did you play? Masterpiece. Remember that game?? Just found the original version from 1970. Love it!

4.What’s the last computer game you played, and with whom did you play? None, I blog -- that's game enough.

5.Is there somewhere you’d like to visit but have not, and where is it? Anywhere, really. Right now, a sleepy little village with great food and friendly people appeals to me.

6.Think of your favorite movie (or a movie you really like, if you can’t think of a favorite). Some people say that the reasons you love your favorite movie are related to what you value in relationships. How is this true or untrue in your case? Enchanted April. Lottie's character inspires me to try not to mete out love and measure it to match exactly what I think I receive from the other person, but to love to my own heart's content and with abandon and generosity. In relationships outside my own family, I need to remember that at times.

7.What physical attributes do you find the most attractive? I like a good smile, nice teeth, big hands, broad shoulders; mostly, kind, "listening" eyes.

8.How many people live in your house? Tell us about them. 4. The usual: my husband, my son, my daughter, and myself. I think you know plenty about us.

9. Ever punch someone in the face? Only with my eyes!

It's Hot

2010-07-26T15:07:00.000-04:00

"How hot is it?"

It is so hot . . .

that the mudroom door I painted THREE weeks ago -- and didn't close for a full 5 days while drying -- seems to have melted shut.

Not budging.

Nope.

No way.

No how.

Happy Feet

2010-07-23T12:10:00.000-04:00

I am not a hot-weather girl.

I burn.

I wilt.

I frizz.

I whine.

But there is at least one thing I do like more about summer than any other time of year . . . sandals!

How great to slip on a pair and run out the door.

I just bought myself a pair of Birkenstocks just like this:

LOVE them! The "break-in period" is over and they are almost as good as going barefoot.

I anticipate wearing these babies down to the cork!

Do you have a favorite summer sandal?

Wordless Wednesday

2010-07-21T08:49:00.002-04:00

Boy meets sea turtle ~

My Boy Is 10

2010-07-19T10:42:00.001-04:00

My boy turned 10 years old yesterday . . .

And flowers bloomed . . .

(his very first lotus flower in his very own pond)

And the beasts danced . . .

(feeding the animals at local zoo)

And all was right in the world.

Ten years.

Ten more years, and he will be 20.

It's going too quickly.

Earthquake!

2010-07-16T08:11:00.002-04:00

I woke up this morning at 5:05am to an earthquake.

An earthquake?

We don't get earthquakes in the D.C. area . . . at least not very often.

It measured 3.6 and the epicenter was thought to be at the largest intersection near my house. We had dinner at a restaurant on that corner just last Saturday night.

It sounded and felt like a big rumble of thunder, but not from the sky. Then the house began shuttering and then a deep, loud boom, and the house seemed to lower and settle back down.

We felt an aftershock 11 minutes later, but no one seems to be reporting on that.

Wild.

Thursday Thunks

2010-07-15T10:59:00.002-04:00

How 'bout a few Thursday Thunks while I wait for my daughter to finish her breakfast -- apparently, the new granola cereal is a no-go.

So we have a few moments on our hands . . .

1. Billy Mays died about a year ago. What kitchen gadgets have you bought that you've used less than three times? What are they? Actually, I can't think of any. I'm pretty careful about what gets to take up precious real estate in my kitchen.

2. What celebrity would you like to shake some sense into, and why? Bristol Palin, if she counts as a celeb. Bristol, he's a creep!

3. Jimmy Buffett just did on concert to benefit the victims of the Gulf. Name a Buffett song that you like. Margaritaville, of course!

4. How did you feel about Ringo Starr turned 70? It has got to be a filthy lie.

5. What sport do you absolute see no point in watching? I've told you before, curling. The whole time I'm watching, I keep thinking about all the good these people could be doing for my kitchen floor.

6. How far would an electric car have to go without a recharge before you'd buy one? 1000 miles. No, I'm not kidding.

7. Did you see that a high court ruled that you can swear on regular TV? What word can you just not wait to hear? None. It's just lazy writing, imo. If you want me to laugh (or pay attention), you need to work harder.

8. What was the last concert that you attended that really sucked? My husband dragged me to so many. The Robert Fripp "students" concert was . . . disconcerting. I think they were all brainwashed zombies -- it was distractingly creepy.

9. What type of accent would you like to have, if you were forced to change yours? I think a fun little (or big!) Manchester accent would be great.

By the way, anyone watching "Work of Art?" I'm not watching, ever again, after what they did to that poor Eric last night!

Off and running . . .

Here's Another Song That Gets To Me

2010-07-13T14:27:00.001-04:00

Well, now a can of worms has been opened.

Ever since I posted my guess at the song that was my favorite (for yesterday), other songs have been parading through my mind.

Melissa Lambert's "The House That Built Me" gets to me lately.

It's a hard time in my life, right now, and sometimes I feel like I just need to go back to being a little girl and be fortified a little more before I continue.

Do you ever feel that way? Like you're not ready for this? Kinda like a dog who doesn't want to go . . . sitting at the end of a leash being pulled tight.

And then I remember that "you can't go home again." And I don't feel any better.

Oh, to be a little girl again for just a week or so. I swear, I would store up all the peace and the reassurance and the simplicity . . . not waste a crumb of it. I would fill my pockets and my shoes and my socks until I had enough to live off of for a lifetime.

But that's just me.

Favorite Song?

2010-07-12T10:23:00.002-04:00

Lynne over at everyday life got me thinking today with her answer to the question:

What is your favorite song?

Now, I've never been good at answering "favorite" questions because I love so many, many things for such different, different reasons. So I usually have to simplify the question by adding "today" to the end of these questions.

What is my favorite song . . . today?

Still a tough one.

So I will go with the song that is playing and replaying in my head lately. It is not a catchy song; it was not a hit; it is not a toe-tapper.

It is not an upbeat song, and if you're flying high today, watching this video may heavy your heart for a time -- it does, me.

But it is almost literally a soul in song form, and I find that moving, beautiful, and unforgettable.

It is quite poignant to note that Jeff Buckley died in a freak accident shortly after this performance.

I know, I know . . . happy day! But my answer is the truth and it is who I am today.

Saturday 9

2010-07-10T11:58:00.002-04:00

It's Saturday. Time for the Saturday 9. Check out Crazy Sam for more participants or to participate yourself.

1. When was the last time you were told to go your own way? Probably when I was in college. I was trying to decide whether to go on to law school or not, and asked the advice of one of my English professors (who was also a practicing attorney). He encouraged me, reminding me that you only get one chance at life, to grab what I want.

2. What one experience has strengthened your character the most so far? Raising my daughter who is a highly traumatized former orphan who cannot feel or accept love. She challenges who I am, all my parts, every single day. It is my most fervent wish to help her, to heal her, but it is my deepest concern that we will not be the ones to do it.

3. What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day? Get all my "musts" done quickly and then curl up, knit, and watch chick flicks.

4. How long can you go without your cell phone? Having it? Not long at all, because I like to feel like I'm reachable should my small kids need me. Using it? I could go quite a while. I've worked very hard not to become dependent upon it.

5. Do you wish you were somewhere else right now? Yes, I wish I were off on the outing my son and husband are on, but, alas, only one parent to a child, as usual at these things.

6. Of all the people you've ever known, who have you most feared? My mother.

7. Do people tell you that you look your age? Some people tell me rather emphatically that I look younger, but I don't honestly believe them.

8. Your ex shows up randomly at your house, what do you say? Kiss me, you devil! (kidding, only kidding)

9. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? No.

Have a weekend!

Hot Dog Days of Summer

2010-07-07T11:12:00.001-04:00

It is so hot here, I don't even know what to say about it: 102*F (39*C), gah!

So rather than regale you with descriptions of the searing heat, crunchy grass, and suffocating humidity, I will share what we had for supper last night. Some recipes are just suited for hot weather, I've always thought.

Chicago Dog Salad*

1/4 cup yellow mustard
2 tablespoons vinegar
1 rounded teaspoon sugar
1 tsp. celery seed
2 tablespoons canola oil

1/2 of a 16-ounce sack shredded cabbage blend for slaw salads
1/2 medium red onion, thinly sliced
1 romaine heart, shredded
2 vine ripe tomatoes, diced
3 large half sour or garlic pickles, chopped
Salt and pepper
8 pork or beef hot dogs, cut into 1-inch-thick slices on an angle

In the bottom of a large bowl, combine mustard, vinegar, sugar, celery seed, and oil. Add the onions, cabbage, romaine, tomatoes, and pickles and toss the salad. Season with salt and pepper, adjust seasonings, and reserve.

Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Arrange the sliced dogs in a single layer. Sear them a couple of minutes on each side. Remove to paper towels to drain.

Mound up the salad on plates, top with seared dogs, and serve.

* as found in Everyday with Rachael Ray magazine

You might also notice that if you leave out the sugar and choose your dogs carefully, this is a very, very low carb recipe.

Keep cool!

America The Beautiful

2010-07-03T21:52:00.000-04:00

God Bless America . . .
and all who love her.

Saturday 9

2010-07-03T13:42:00.003-04:00

1. Do you feel that you need to keep repeating yourself when talking to a particular person? Yes, my son. He's 9. I think he just tries to wear me down.

2. It's July. Do you have anything special planned? Independence Day with the family and my son's 10th birthday (I can hardly believe it.)!

3. Who is your big celebrity crush? Harry Connick, Jr.

4. Tell us about a local restaurant you are sure we'd love. Wag's in Frederick, MD. Great little "below the sidewalk" pub.

5. Tell us about the shyest person that you deal with regularly. Our pastor. Sometimes I think a pastor needs to be a bit more outgoing, but he means well.

6. What is your vision of heaven and hell? The usual cliche's.

7. What is your neighborhood like? Our neighborhood is nice and quiet, but sometimes too quiet -- it seems all the kids disappear during the summer and it makes me sad for my own kids.

8. What's your favorite cook-out food? It's hard to beat a good burger on the grill -- accompanied by an ear of corn, yum.

9. When was the last time that you saw fireworks? Let's see, maybe the last time I kissed my hubbo . . . or, no, wait, the last time we had a big fight! Oh, okay, last Fourth of July . . . if that's what you want to hear.

My thanks to Sam at Saturday 9 . . . check her blog to join in or read more.

My Own Family Circus

2010-06-29T16:21:00.002-04:00

Our garbage pick-up is on Friday.

Yesterday, I noticed that our garbage can was unusually full for only 3 days since pick-up. I couldn't imagine what had been thrown away to fill that garbage can so quickly.

So I asked the kids.

"What's with the garbage can already being all filled up?"

"I don't know. I didn't put anything in there," my son said.

"It must have been Daddy," I concluded aloud.

My daughter added, "Or maybe he just put a lot of stuff in there."

~ Well, yeah . . . what did she think I meant?

Scout's Day Off

2010-06-28T11:16:00.001-04:00

So my son had cub scout day camp last week.

For those of you who do not live around me, note that not one day was less than 94 degrees Fahrenheit.

There were no - and I mean, no -- indoor facilities.

They fished with cane poles and worms, in the hot sun. The resolve!

They practiced archery and target shooting. The focus!

They learned water rescue techniques. The strength!

They concentrated on the fine details involved in tying 5 different kinds of knots. The concentration!

They survived "water fun" day which meant every single peer was armed with a loaded super-soaker all day long. The perseverance!

They even submitted to performing skits, singing camp songs, and doing their "den wild call." My son's, rather unfortunately, required him to make monkey calls and monkey arm gestures. The mirth!

All this, he could do.

But this week, there is no cub scout camp.

He is home.

With me.

In our air conditioned home. (The heat wave continues, ugh.)

So this morning, after his long, leisurely breakfast in front of his favorite cartoons, I asked him to clean the patio doors.

I equipped him with plenty of paper towels and cleaner and even demonstrated the technique.

Where is my scout? Where is the strength, the focus, the resolve???

It seems my son, practically an expert marksman, is unable to aim the Windex nozzle with any accuracy.

And the arms that deftly climbed a rope ladder and even pulled a comrade from danger in a most excellent water-rescue feat last week have gone limp, barely able to muster enough strength to scrub off the slightest dog-nose smudge.

It took almost 40 full minutes, gritted teeth, and warnings . . . and, really, the door is still not how it should be.

Camp? Self-reliance? Confidence? Perseverance?

I call for a "Mommy-Scout Day Camp."

Everyone: Get your boots on!

Thursday Thunks

2010-06-25T13:01:00.001-04:00

I am participating in Thursday Thunks this week, albeit a day late. If you like prompts or would like to read other's answers, check them out.

Here goes:

1. It became officially summer on Monday. What's your favorite part of winter? Christmas, homemade soup, and sweaters.

2. What was your worst summer vacation ever? Every childhood summer of mine was marred by suffering in the form of swimming lessons.

3. Kimber's husband just got the dream job that he's hoped for. So a big shout out to her and Anthony! Tell us about the best job that you ever had. Once I worked for a large banking corporation, part-time with great pay and full benefits. Ah, the good ole' days.

4. Who is probably talking a load of crap about you right now? Hauntingly, my own parents.

5. An alien appears and offers you the opportunity to repeat one year of your life. You will still know everything that you know now. He explains that no matter what you do differently, when you are returned to the present nothing will have changed. What year would you pick and why? What a wonderful question, fascinating to think about, impossible to answer. Perhaps I would choose a year out of my childhood (if I could minus the swimming lessons), because now I know how wonderfully uncomplicated it can be when you are a child. But, then again, maybe I would choose the first year I knew my husband -- wildly in love with lots of time on our hands and minimal responsibilities. Above all, though, I would probably choose the first year of my son's life. I would hold him and kiss him and rock him and not let one moment of it pass by without savoring it . . . because now I know how fast it goes.

6. Name three things you have on you at all times. Explain why. Simple gold earrings, because I don't usually think to change them. My grandmother's ring, because I miss her and it reminds me of her which makes me happy. Toenail polish, because my husband likes it.

7. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it? Christmas time. I had neglected to thank someone for a kindness they showed me; I wrote out my heart and, thankfully, the person forgave me.

8. If you could have everyone in the blogosphere read just one of your posts, which post would you pick and why? I don't know that I've written it yet.

9. I recently read that the music industry continues to decline at an alarming rate. In the last year it said the sales of Michael Jackson's and The Beatles' music are the only artists who sales continue to climb. The article stated that the two are holding up the industry. Have you bought a CD or mp3 of either artist recently? Nope.

10. What radio ad right now do you find so annoying that you'd rather have a tooth drilled than hear it again? Those OnStar ads, especially the ones with emergency sirens -- radio commercials with sirens should be illegal because they are so distracting to the driver.

11. Berleen walks into a bar on a hot Minnesota day. At the bar sits a priest, a rabbi and a minister. A ten foot duck walks into the bar right after Berleen. What drink do you think Berleen orders? A Bullshot. No idea why.

12. There is a knock on your door. It can be anyone in the world. Who would you want it to be? My grandmother.

13. What would be the worst entertainment or sporting that you could be forced to watch? Olympic curling. (come on)

Happy Friday!

Death of a Kiss

2010-06-24T12:57:00.000-04:00

Edith Shain died yesterday at her Los Angeles home.

Don't know Ms. Shain?

Sure you do.

She showed us all how to give in to the moment and receive a great kiss:

Long live the spirit of joy, romance, and patriotism depicted in this V-J Day kiss, circa 1945.

Confession and Recommitment

2010-06-23T12:19:00.001-04:00

I have a confession to make.

I have not been a very faithful person.

I have walked out, more than once, on a commitment.

In general, I like to think I'm a good person, but there is one person to whom I am not faithful and have not been loyal. In fact, I have left this person three times in the past three years. I know. I usually just become overwhelmed by the closeness and the intensity of our relationship. I feel like this person pushes me too hard and expects too much. And I just cannot measure up.

And then I give up.

But I'm ashamed of that, and I have recently resolved to try again.

And this person has welcomed me back with open arms, holding no grudges.

That's right, FlyLady.

It's been 3 days now.

And I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed again.

All the emails.

All the lists.

All the encouragement.

It's already too much.

But I resolve to hang in there.

My house needs it.

I'm off to shine my sink.

My Husband the Father

2010-06-20T11:45:00.002-04:00

We took our kids fishing Friday evening.

Our kids are young and enthusiastic, but inexperienced and uncoordinated. And I hadn't been fishing in a few years, myself.

I watched my husband bait hooks, replace hooks, cast, reel, unhook fish, encourage, and reassure my kids tirelessly for three hours. I was awed by his endless patience and ceaseless enthusiasm.

He calmly unwound my daughter's fishing line from my son's head and then rather patiently reminded my daughter that she was to wait before trying to cast by herself.

He helped my son change bait at least 10 times each hour and good naturedly indulged my son when he insisted that he use the biggest lure in the box. He also removed it two minutes later when my son realized his father had been right, and never said a word.

He constantly reminded my daughter to watch the bobber and didn't seem to mind that she was becoming more interested in picking up rocks and kicking dirt.

He ran the fifty yards between my two kids, attending to all their needs, never once refuting my son's intuition that the spot he found so far away was "lucky."

And he just laughed when my son gave up fishing in favor of engaging the ducks.

He baited and casted and untangled and rebaited, all in good spirit.

All on a sprained ankle.

All evening long.

And, all the while, his rod remained on shore, dry and unbaited . Not once did he get a chance to drop a line of his own.

And yet he spoke from his heart when he insisted that he was having the most fun of all.

Here's to you, Honey, and to all fathers everywhere . . . for it was Friday night that I finally realized, there were many afternoons when my own father never got in his own line . . .

You make my children better people,

You make me a better woman.

I love you.

Mutiny On the Bounty Aisle

2010-06-18T11:47:00.000-04:00

The balance of the universe has been upset.

Leaders overthrown.

Mayhem.

Can you feel it? Has everything been a little askew for you since last weekend?

Me, too.

Here's what happened:

I was sick last weekend.

We needed food.

My husband went to the grocery store and took the kids with him.

Now, my husband does not get to the grocery store very often at all and almost never with the kids. He was like a babe in the woods . . . a babe in the woods escorted by two sharks.

A few years ago, when my children were preschool age and in the middle of a raging sibling rivalry, I established some ground rules for grocery store conduct.

1. No one pushes the cart, but me.

2. No one rides on the cart. (My daughter can't stay on, and my son is so tall I can't see past him.)

3. No one grabs anything off the shelf, but me.

4. No one puts anything in the cart unless I expressly ask them to. (Grabbing things out of my hand while offering to put them in the cart is not helpful and not appreciated, because it only provokes the other one to grab more quickly next time resulting in my virtual mugging every time I pick an item off the shelf.)

And 5. My daughter (as the chief offender) must walk slightly behind my son. (This method makes racing impossible and reduces cut-offs drastically.)

These rules may sound harsh, but they are not as harsh as my tone of voice and mood upon exiting the grocery store before said rules were invoked. Harmony for all, that's my motto.

So my poor, innocent, naive husband returned from the grocery store, the kids sheepishly following behind him. Once I confirmed that he did, indeed, get my juice and cough drops, I remarked on the notable tension in the room.

My husband choked out, through gritted teeth, "These two were just terrible. They drove me nuts the entire time."

I looked at them. They averted my gaze.

I looked back at my husband. "You didn't let them push the cart, did you?"

"Well, yeah, why?"

Why? Why???

All the things I have worked so hard for . . . the peace, the harmony, the order . . . all down the drain . . .

My son pushed the cart.

My daughter "helped" by putting things in the cart.

My son began "correcting" the order of things in the cart.

My daughter resented said correction.

Bickering.

Racing.

Cut-offs.

Toes run over.

Limping.

Tattling.

Mayhem. Just may.hem.

All rules thrown over.

Power has shifted back to the sharks.

All in one innocent trip to the grocery store.

Quotable Wednesday

2010-06-16T12:09:00.001-04:00

It is absurd to divide people
into good and bad.

People are either charming or tedious.

Oscar Wilde

I'b Sick

2010-06-13T12:27:00.001-04:00

Summertime cold.

Bummer.

I blame it on the pizza buffet I took my kids to on their last day of school. ugh

Someone Bring Me a Margarita

2010-06-11T09:35:00.001-04:00

Off to the school pool party . . .

I'm sure it will be a ball.

Nothing-to-Say Day

2010-06-09T17:38:00.005-04:00

My new friend, Jabacue at Ocean Breezes has done me a great service and shown me just how to handle that "nothing to say" mood today. If you haven't checked out his relatively new blog, you should. It is warm and soothing and enjoyable. Say hi to Sophie if you do visit.

So, since I have nothing to say today, I'll just talk about my day as it happened. . .

It was a half-day for my kids. (One more half day left and then they're all mine.)

They bickered all the way home, but they bonded over the decision of what to have for lunch. I told them I would cook nothing until they came to a consensus on their choice. I hereby nominate Chef Boyardee for a peace prize. ;)

After lunch, we colored. I love to color and so does my daughter. My son? Not so much. And his handwriting shows it; his lack of artistic patience is evident. So I did what any understanding mother would do. I forced him.

My daughter colored a lovely picture of a giant yo-yo. She took many risks with her color palette and was rewarded with a bold image of neon pink and forest green with red highlights. It sorta strobes if you look at it too long.

I colored a picture of a little bear painting the word, "NOEL", on the page . . . I got "stuck" with the Christmas coloring book. (Cry no tears. Secretly, that's the one I wanted and I played it just right. ;) I took great care in selecting predictable colors for the letters and surprising pastels for the bear's hat and scarf. Quite daring.

My son, begrudgingly, took on a picture of two giraffes. He went with a very uninspired three-color palette and less than careful technique to preserve the contrast in the giraffes coats, I thought. In fact, the second giraffe was colored in all brown, except for the strawberry pink ears. He was finished -- and snacking -- in 5 minutes flat. You can bring art to the kid, but you cannot bring the kid to art. Oh well, I tried.

I am now the proud owner of the highly desirable plastic dog from my kids PlayMobil set. Ongoing bickering brings me lots of goodies. Said dog is now resting next to the giant rubber ball with a pig in the middle on my kitchen windowsill. Said ball was confiscated over a year ago. Unfortunately for its previous owner, I like it and it goes with my kitchen.

Not surprisingly, the confiscation of this prized possession brought on bonding between my two lovely children. I am the common enemy and the one thing they seem to share in common this afternoon. That's a deal I will take any day.

Now that they've played out every policeman/bad guy scenario, they have commandeered my television. Rather than the financial news show I usually have on at this time, it is now tuned to The Electric Company. If anything important happens, someone email me, because after The Electric Company comes Arthur.

And to think summer hasn't even begun yet.

Family Schools?

2010-06-07T12:42:00.000-04:00

Today is the first day of the last week of school. Quite the event.

It is to be a week filled with class parties, teacher gifts, pool parties, and more parties, hugs, kisses, and tearful goodbyes from the teachers.

Somehow, when I was a kid, I don't remember the last week of school being so packed with festivities.

I remember one day devoted to cleaning up the classroom and cleaning out our desks. (I remember the year I found a birthday card I was supposed to mail on the way to school. Wups. I wonder what Auntie Judy thought she had done to be ignored that way.)

And I remember the obligatory class trip to the zoo. Always the zoo.

And then we were free . . . and the fun began. And we couldn't wait.

What fun? Nothing, really. Just a summer of kicking around the house, spending more time with my parents, and hanging around the neighborhood with our friends. No extravaganzas, but we were home and fun was just an organic byproduct of summer.

I gotta tell ya, after this week of fun and frolic at school, I don't know if life at home can measure up for my kids. Sometimes I think schools have gotten so far out of being schools, and have endeavored to be a second family to kids, that it is detrimental to families.

I would like to be the one to take my kids to the pool for the first time this summer, thank you, but the school has arranged that honor for themselves.

This afternoon, the "teachers' party," complete with cake and punch and scrapbooks and gifts from the kids much resembles a grandma's birthday party.

And speaking of birthday parties, is it really good for the kids to walk around in a crown all day at school on their birthdays? Is it fair to the families when the child is, basically, "de-crowned" just before they have to leave school and go home to their ordinary lives?

They go trick-or-treating at school, the Friday before Halloween . . .

And Santa comes for breakfast . . . at school . . .

And the loot they receive at school when they lose a tooth? Even the tooth fairy cannot compete with that.

And what about movie night? My school never had movie night. Watching a movie with our parents was a rare treat and a family event. Now schools put on movie nights as fundraisers. Parents are not invited, and kids are encouraged to wear their pajamas and bring their teddy bears.

Am I the only one having a problem with all of this?

My daughter suffers from Reactive Attachment Disorder, so this is an especially challenging issue for us. Basically, she rejects the parental relationship at every turn. She repels an emotional bond with anyone. It is taking an enormous amount of therapy, dedication, and hard work on our part to get her to a healthy emotional state. But all this "school as family" stuff really, really confuses and even harms our daughter.

And it's gotten me to thinking, wondering whether it is really good for any family. Personally, I don't think it is. I long for the days when school was for teaching and families were for everything else.

Thanks for listening,

Saturday 9

2010-06-05T19:19:00.001-04:00

As you might have noticed, I've been a little short on things to say lately. So my thanks to Sam at the Saturday 9 for a good prompt:

1. Are you handy with tools? Handy? I'd say I'm competent if I'm directed . . . but I'm not one to break out the power tools on my own.

2. What was the best thing that happened to you this week? Many things, actually. A good friend sent me flowers . . . just because. A new friend sent me something she thought I needed, and I did. My husband soothed me when I awoke in the middle of the night with an anxiety attack, and then stayed up 30 minutes longer than I to make sure I was soundly asleep . . . at 3am. And my husband and I both had a change of heart at almost exactly the same time . . . I think God did it.

3. What was the worst thing that happened to you this week? I pulled a muscle in my thigh and now it won't stop twitching.

4. Do you think you act your age? Yes, certainly not younger. I have been accused of walking around as if the weight of the world is on my shoulders. (But I do have bouts of momentary immaturity reference the sandal flinging contest with the kids the other night.)

5. Describe an item of clothing that has definitely seen better days but that you refuse to dispose of and still wear. Why won't you toss it? I have a pink fleece pullover that was my mother-in-law's. It's all pilly now. I never wear it; never have worn it, but when I look at it, I can see her in it and hear her voice and feel good, as if I'm with her again. I keep it among my every day wearables so that I see it often. I'll never part with it.

6. What is your favorite summertime beverage? Fresh lemonade.

7. Have you ever lied about your age? When I met my future husband and he was drinking age and I was not yet. (All I wanted was a wine cooler at Summerfest!)

8. What was the most memorable birthday party you've attended? My own when I turned 8. My first and only "friend birthday party." Pink babydoll cake, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, new dress -- it was all so lovely and perfect. And my son's first birthday -- he took his first steps and said his first word on his first birthday!

9. What is something that really frightens you, and can you trace it back to an event in your life? Driving on ice. I was in a car accident when the car in front of me began to spin out (despite going only 30 mph), forcing me to brake which led to me spinning, and then another car, unable to stop, plowed into me and totaled my car. All I know is one minute everyone was fine and under control, and the next minute everyone was spinning. I never, ever feel safe driving in any kind of winter conditions anymore.

Wishing you all peace and happiness this week,

My Dad

2010-05-30T11:18:00.001-04:00

I think of my dad all Memorial Day Weekend, every year.

He was drafted to serve in Vietnam, 1966 - 1968.

He was not killed. Thank God. He served honorably and effectively, and returned home.

But he returned home changed.

Everyone who knew him before said so.

My dad is a good man, an honorable man. A man with a sense of humor and a zest for life.

But there is a sadness, too.

Every war story my dad tells is littered with, "He got killed." Every name, but one, that my dad has ever mentioned to me is followed with, "He got killed." "I liked that guy. We laughed so hard . . . but he got killed."

My dad witnessed a foxhole conversion and became the godfather to a man his age. His is the only name that is not followed by, "he got killed."

My dad came home. He fell in love, got married, and raised a family.

But I know he still carries the memories and the sadness.

The losses we remember on Memorial Day should include the loss of innocence and the loss of peace for these survivors.

My prayers and my thanks.

Honor and Remember

2010-05-28T14:14:00.001-04:00

Arlington Cemetery Changing of the Guard at The Tomb of The Unknowns

The Tomb contains the remains of unknown American soldiers from World Wars 1 and II, the Korean Conflict and (until 1998) the Vietnam War.

The Tomb is guarded 24-hours-per-day and 365-days-per year by specially trained members of the 3rd United States Infantry.

May they, and all others, always be honored and remembered.

To My Man . . .

2010-05-26T13:25:00.000-04:00

XXX

OOO

10 Things You Don't Know and . . .

2010-05-21T14:18:00.001-04:00

Dear Randy over at Chicken Boys passed this task along to me in exchange for a lovely award and acknowledgment. Thanks, SweetiePie!

10 Things You Still Don't Know About Me

1. I had a pink streak dyed into my hair for my 40th birthday . . . and have half a mind to keep it all the time.

2. My husband is 14 inches taller than I.

3. There is an unusual phenomenon surrounding me and cd's. Once I open a cd, the cd case disappears, never to be seen again.

4. I chew gum to avoid tension headaches -- a lot.

5. My daughter has reactive attachment disorder, and it is kicking my a$$ right now. Therapeutic parenting is hard and unsatisfying and sad.

6. I am more open-minded than people who think they know me give me credit for.

7. I fervently want to have a goat of my own.

8. My favorite candy is licorice allsorts . . . art deco candy, ya gotta love it.

9. When I'm alone in the car, I have an amazing singing voice. You just wouldn't believe it.

10. I need more friends.

5 Things I Hate

1. The color "Seafoam Green."

2. Getting my face wet.

3. Busy-body gossips.

4. Polish jokes.

5. Mean people.

*******

Thanks again, Randy!

My Girl, Lester

2010-05-20T08:41:00.000-04:00

Have you met my Lester? Lester is my little mourning dove girl. We raised her from a naked, featherless nestling. We tried to be careful to preserve her "wildness," but somehow she imprinted on our dog. She now lives a dog's life.

She bathes in and drinks from the dogs' water dish. . .

She sleeps in the dog's bed:

She greets family members at the door when they arrive back home . . . how she doesn't get stepped on, I'll never know . . .

She likes potato chips on the occasion we crumple a bit for her . . .

When she feels giddy, she'll attack our toes and tickle, tease, and play . . .

She is a nosy little girl and must know all things my kids are into, especially if they are on the floor:

She hangs around the yard and expects to be let in at her pleasure:

And she feels quite entitled to my son's favorite blanket . . . her favorite, too:

She recently took up residence in a houseplant . . . laying her eggs and then sitting on them for almost 3 weeks, her personal best so far in her almost 2 year life. I didn't get a picture as I didn't want to push my luck. I was the only one allowed to approach her or even enter the room, so I didn't feel it was appropriate to intrude on her with a camera. So you will have to imagine the picture of a broody mourning dove all hunkered down in a past-its-prime poinsettia plant in the window of the kids' playroom. I would sprinkle some seed and refill the little medicine-cup water-dish each morning and each night, and she would thank me with a little hum and a nestle. She finally gave up on her nest two days ago, and I am so happy to have her back.

(Though not on my head! . . . which is her favorite perch . . . she knows it drives me buggy . . . teaser that she is.)

I just love that little bird.

Validation

2010-05-19T10:18:00.000-04:00

I'm finding the world a rough place lately. Maybe you are, too. People seem to be so coarse, so unkind, so hard on each other. Not all, of course.

But, God help me, the hard ones seem to stay with me longer.

I came across this charming little video a while back, and thought you might like it, too. It takes a few moments and a bit of patience and good humor, but I send it out to you to watch if you choose.

I wish the sentiments would ripple out far and wide.

My warmest wishes for a nice day,

Of Lemons and Honey

I Need to Stop; A Goodbye

Peace Doves

Help

Extra Love Today

Inspiration and Aspiration

Chicken Coax

Chickened Out . . . And In

Dilemma

Happy Campers

Snow and Bananas

Summer Over Already?

Go Pack!

VHS Tapes, Why

The Roses at Westminister Hall and Other Mysteries

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

My Boy's a Blogger

What's the Kindest Thing a Stranger Has Done?

Meet My New Boyfriend

A Little Sunshine

When They Hurt

Approaching Normal

End of Year Thunks

Heavy Hearted Holidays

Whose Watchful Eye

Smooooooch!

Smoooooooch!

Let's Go to the Pumpkin Farm!

Carrot Cake Jam

Wednesday Wit

Warm Chicken

Scattered Smiles

I Re-Dedicate This Blog

Share

Blogtoberfest

Inspiration

Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile. ~ Mother Theresa

This photo just speaks to my heart. The connection between MT and that child, how soothing and joyful her look . . . what food for the soul. (I'm pretty sure it was special for the baby, too.) I could stare into this photo for hours; it fills my heart.

She served in the darkest corners of this earth every day of her life, until she died at age 86.

Pure faith.

I Had to Laugh

A Devil of a Dessert

Blackberry Cobbler

Saturday 9

Repost: Chilling Questions

Thursday Thunks

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Sandwiches are Good

About My Daughter

Nature-Nick Does The Fair

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Award

Saturday 9

I'm 1!

An Important Sandwich

Thursday Thunks

Saturday 9

It's Hot

Happy Feet

Wordless Wednesday

My Boy Is 10

Earthquake!

Thursday Thunks

Here's Another Song That Gets To Me

Favorite Song?

Saturday 9

Hot Dog Days of Summer

America The Beautiful

Saturday 9

My Own Family Circus

Scout's Day Off

Thursday Thunks

Death of a Kiss

Confession and Recommitment

My Husband the Father

Mutiny On the Bounty Aisle

Quotable Wednesday

I'b Sick

Someone Bring Me a Margarita

Nothing-to-Say Day