phone calls

For the first time in my life, I've thought about taking the phone off the hook.
Political phone ads...would you believe we've had five today?
Parties claim they are very effective.
They seem shocked that I'm willing to enter database entries but not make phone calls.
It seems simple to me.  I don't like receiving them; I think they're a waste of time and money, so why should I make them and annoy other people?
With one stop voting, I certainly think it's ironic that they're wasting my time when they can't sway my vote (not that they could anyway) because I've already voted.
If I ever run for office (which is about as likely as me totally giving up chocolate), I don't think I'll allow them for  my campaign.  Twitter, Facebook, and other annoying venues...yes.  Phone calls...nope.

crunch time

It is crunch time for me, in so many ways.

1. I really, truly need to do some crunches.
2. The kids' party at church is tonight.  Yeah, as in 9 hours away.
3. Election work starts tomorrow.  10 am pickup of supplies. The afternoon to read through everything.
4. Sunday finalize the Christmas play list.
5. Monday "on-call" for 9 hours, as well as posting signage at 4 sites (2 new polling places, 2  "your precinct has moved" places).
6. Tuesday is THE DAY!!! I don't know why I tense up around election day.  Dread of the long hours, the unknown (from crazy people who don't know where or when they registered, whether by mail or at the DMV but are adamant that they should be able to vote because they're an American citizen, to people who get upset because a candidate they like from a tv commercial isn't on THEIR ballot and should be), the extra responsibilities...those are all possibilities.  But either way, the day always comes and it always ends so I really shouldn't let it pressure me.
7. Porch railings.  The green summer coloring is starting to advance its way up the spindles, meaning cleaning time, and the spiders are taking over the back porch, meaning broom and spray time.
8. the floors...no, wait,that's not crunch time. They always demand attention.  We'll just put housework here.
9. Ironing...HOW did it pile up so fast again?
10. Quilting...I am determined the two quilts in frames MUST be finished before this year is out!!!

And yet, when all is said and done, my life is not going to be traumatically altered if these things don't get done. So be still my silly stomach and quit crunching up.  Relax shoulder muscles and stop pretending to be steel. Unfortunately I can't blame my hair on stress.  It always does whatever it jolly well pleases. (sounds  a lot like its owner).  So when everything is staring down at me attempting to intimidate, I always know how how to stab the silly beast of demands right where it hurts: I ignore it and go play with something else. :)

tornado alley

I grew up in Walker County, Alabama. 
It's a coal mining community.
It's hilly and full of pines.
It's tornado alley.
Literally.
Growing up, we had two sets of drills: fire drills and tornado drills.  Heaven forbid  you get the three short and one long bell mixed up and go outside thinking it's a fire drill when it's really a REAL tornado drill.  Your principal will turn fire engine red in the face screaming at your class while flapping his arms like a windmill. Seriously.
In case you didn't know it, they claim "tornado season" is the spring and fall.  Though Walker Countians know a tornado can came any time the weather is funky, as it is prone to be in the south.
So imagine my surprise to come home to TWO messages on the answering machine.  Imagine my even bigger surprise to discover they were from my first grade niece.  The sirens are going off, and the weather man said that the first round of the storm was in North Carolina. Silly Aunt Monica doesn't know to turn her radio or tv on (dare I tell her we don't have special sirens at the fire stations for tornadoes?), so she needs a warning call.
Tornadoes aren't fun.
But chatting with a concerned 5 1/2 year old who knows everything is.
I love being an aunt!

why I could never be a politician

Reasons why I could never be a politician:

1. My ads would offend people.
2. No one wants to hear about personal sacrifice and responsibility.  
3. Everyone wants to blame someone else and not admit we all have/had a role in the current place we're in.
4. I'm a pro.  (pro-life, pro-creator, pro-gun, pro-minimalist government, etc)
5. I'd probably tell some whining constituent to "build a bridge and get over it".
6. I'd tell the media if they really wanted to create news, then get active in their communities.
7. I'd offend my Christian base by adhering too closely to the "freedom to practice religion", including All religions, for Americans.
8. I'd offend my non-Christian voters by running my campaign/office the way I run my life...praying in the name of Jesus.
9. I'd actually have to small talk with people, which I hate.
10. Critics would drive me crazy commenting on my lack of "style" in hair and clothes.

In two weeks, all the nasty political ads will be over, my job for the year will be done, and life will move on.  But during these next two weeks, if you haven't voted, there's no better time like the present.

disappointment

I'm still sorting/tackling the last few piles in my art/sewing room, and came across my portfolio and photographs my design and photography class.  I decided to take some of my favorite pics, frame them, and hang them in the room.  I've got two of them ready to go, but the other two need to be printed. So I stopped at Target on the way home from the gym this morning, and the photo lab doesn't open until noon.  Bah humbug.  Maybe I"ll just take them to CVS when I head out for errands.

And frustration was mounting late Saturday night as I attempted to finalize the kids Christmas program and prepare parts and a letter for Sunday morning. How do you adequately present the Christmas story with 31 kids, five of whom may or may not show up when they are supposed to? So I'm cheating.  I'm doing something I've never done before.  I'm reusing an old play.  I've pulled up the re-enactment from two years ago, modifying parts, changing stage directions (the blessing/curse of being in a new location), and am throwing out almost all stage props. I'm thinking our overhead screen can present a pictoral backdrop.  We'll have to add 2 or 3 costumes to our stash, hem a few others, but that should be it. 

So I here I sit on Monday morning, and all the stress and frustration is GONE.  That is such a nice feeling. I know there will be another day when I feel as if everything is caving in again, but for this moment, I'm not worried about medical stuff, parties, packing, election day work, or other things that fill life. I'm content with my little checklist and the cloudy sky, and am rejoicing in the smiles and fellowship I've enjoyed this weekend.

"pockets"

My senior year of high school I was a part-time cashier at Son's Grocery Store in Cordova, Alabama.  Sadly, it no longer exists.  That was back in the day before the cool laser scanners, and we had conveyor belts operated by a switch or foot pedal that had to be cleaned every so many customers and we had to manually punch in each item, as well as weigh the produce.  Yeah, I'm that old. :)
There were many things on that first job that surprised my naive 18-year-old self. One of them was the various "pockets" women used.  I had always heard older women call purses "pocketbooks" and I never really thought a whole lot about it.  Until the day I had a lady in a dress tell me, "Hang on, hun'. I gotta get my stamps outta my pocket."  (Stamps here being food stamps. They were paper money in booklet form back in the day, as opposed to today's debit card format.) I'm thinking she has a purse in the buggy (how many dresses have pockets in them?), and imagine my surprise when she sticks her hand down her dress and pulls her pouch OUT OF HER BRA!!!) It was all I could do to keep from gasping out loud.
Later I learned to appreciate the ladies who actually used tiny wallets or money pouches to hold their money in their "pocket".  I had two customers, both well endowed, who simply stuck their stamps or bills, not covered, into their "pocket".  Now, you know how hot it gets in the south during the summer. All us southern gals know how sweaty undergarments can be (oh, excuse my impropriety...how much our undergarments can "glisten").  Do you know how absolutely disgusting it is to be handed a wad of bills or stamps WET with sweat from someone's bosom?!?  Makes a small shudder shimmy through my mind just typing that!
So yesterday I'm in downtown Raleigh finishing up some training for the upcoming election, and a fellow precinct coordinator needed to get her cell phone, and she pulls it out of her BRA!!! Thankfully everyone in the group was a woman, and we all laughed, to which she responded. "I gotta carry it somehow."  (And for the record, she did have it in pouch.)
Now, I know there are most likely historical reasons for the term "pocketbooks" that go back to the 1800s and the big dresses that I won't go into here.  But really, ladies, your underwear is NOT a pocket!!!

thou shalt not...

I think there must be a "recommendation" in the Bible that I've missed.  It probably reads something like this: "Thou shouldst not use thy time loosely.  Don't give your word or time to a cause until you know you can fulfill it."  That HAS to be the reason why so many Christians are averse to sign-up sheets, right?  It doesn't matter where I've been (AL, TN, SC, NC), which denomination, what church, it seems to be the general principle that people simply do not sign up for things.
There's even been an article about Christian singers/concerts at major venues.  If they sell out at all, it's always at the last minute.  Secular concerts?  Their tickets sell out quickly.
Now, I could argue that the reason for this is that Christians faithfully devote one of their two off-days to church and at least one night during the week to church, so therefore they don't have all the extra spare time that non-churchies have. But I think, sadly, closer to home, is that churches are so glad for people to come that we never say no.  Why bother to sign-up if you know you're going to be welcomed anyway?
From a signers stand-point, I get it.  Church time is busy and sometimes you just forget.  From a planner/organizer stand-point, it drives me crazy.  On a tight budget and need to figure out how much food?  Well, do you only plan for the ten who signed up, or the 15 extra you "heard" might be coming. The same thing with games. You schedule a rotation for 30 kids based on past experiences, but then only 15 sign-up.  Do you modify the schedule or come up with extra games, or proceed and plan game time for 30 kids (which is a totally different scenario).
It takes a little extra work, but I've learned over the years to cut the sign-up off early and then spend an evening/morning calling people.  It makes preparations go a whole lot smoother. But a small part of me wonders what will happen when our church grows in size and that is no longer feasible. And if you start telling people no, would they quit coming or learn to sign up?

distress and green bananas

I keep hearing people talk about the "distressed" look in painting.  Basically, it's where you don't prime something before you paint and only do a half-way job on the paint job, allowing the original color to "shine" through.  I'm 99% positive both my grandmother and my Mom would say "Somebody didn't know what they were doing!"  And it really makes me wonder how much of it is the whole "Emperor's New Clothes" story being told again.  You know, where some artist was in a hurry, liked the semi-finished look, others came over and instead of commenting on the person only doing a half-way job made a comment about the furniture being in distress, and voila - a new fad is born.  And all the while it's only a sorry paint job, but no one dared point that out.  No,  no, I'm really not being cynical this early in the morning. My brain actually ponders such random things.

And on a less cynical note, I received a forwarded e-mail from a relative who is dying with cancer. She's been in this battle for over four years, and while she knows she will ultimately lose (win?  lose to cancer but win with Christ), and as the tumors continuously spread and grow and the pain meds continue to increase, people always ask her how she's doing.  Her response?  I'm still buying green bananas.  I love that positive response!
And speaking of bananas, I have some that are very clearly not green and need to be transformed into banana bread.  And speaking of banana bread, I have a new poll for you!

technology updates

Okay, my apologies to Braun Enterprises.  According to my contact at Van Products, they (BE) have a contract with Chrysler.  Chrysler is the company saying adamantly NO WAY to modifications.  And the other modification manufacturer of choice, also cannot get an agreement with them.  Evidently, it's not just Chrysler, but all vehicles.  These "advanced" computer wired vehicles make it next to impossible (legally anyway) to modify.
And like I had been told, Braun was started by a man in a wheelchair, and he is still head of the company.  So there's no one I can call and petition, no one I can invite to come live our lives for a day or two, nowhere else to turn (humanly wise) in this saga.
And you no what?  That's okay. Like so many other things, we'll make this work. And there is a bright side...horse and buggies aren't accessible either, so I don't have to worry about caring for a horse. :)  That would be a nightmare indeed!

things that make me want to cartoon cuss

technology...

There's nothing more aggravating than upgrading your computer, only to find out that the new keyboard and mouse are absolutely not disability friendly. Our solution: keep using the old ones with the new hard-drive. Thank God for adaptors!

There's nothing more annoying than visiting FIVE different cell phone carriers and not A SINGLE ONE has a phone workable for moderately disabled fingers.  Sale clerks seem dumbfounded by the problem, and sympathetically shrug. Our solution: a cheap-o pay as you go phone from Wal-mart that we hot-glued an elastic strip to the back.

BUT, when "modern" technology on vehicles enters the scene, it's a whole new ballgame. Cell phones and mice are modified necessities.  A vehicle is an absolute necessity.  I really don't care that cars now have computer chip drives in them to make them safer.  I could care less that if the manufacturer grants permission to have things rewired they would be in major trouble with insurance companies, or attorneys or whomever else might have some freakish control thing going on. Just let us re-wire what needs to be done to make the vehicle safe for a disabled person to drive.  You think your stupid FOB is the way of the future?  All it does is make handicapped people struggle to enter buildings and vehicles.  Progress?  For WHOM?  And what companies consider "safe" more often than not means even more unnecessary work and produces potentially dangerous consequences for people who need every advantage they can get. And what REALLY gets my goat is when it's a medical adaptive equipment who is SUPPOSED to be HELPING people get around that makes some rule that actually HINDERS people from living as normal a life as possible. 

It's probably a very good thing that I don't have a phone number for Braun Enterprises tonight.  It's probably an even better thing that I don't know who the contact person is who has now twice denied a claim to modify "their" equipment. 

And Van Products of Raleigh...here's my shout out to you. THANK YOU for ALWAYS going the extra mile for us in trying to make things work IN OUR BEST INTEREST!!! I think it truly makes a difference when a company who sells disability products actually has people with disabilities working there.  They truly get it.  I'd be curious to know if Braun Enterprises has any disabled people working/selling their vehicles. I truly kind of doubt it.

quilt show

Last Thursday my mother-in-law and I attended a quilt show at JCC. There was quite a variety at quilts.  Some were at least 75 years old, and others were fairly new. Here were some of my favorites:

 This quilt was created by a church, and each quilter embroidered their name in the center blocks. I like how they filled the plain blocks with a simple quilt design. 

 Another quilt fundraiser from the same church, but this time each member paid 25cents to have their name embroidered on the quilt (I don't remember if it was made in the late '70s or early 80's).  Once finished, the quilt was auctioned.  The purchaser donated it back to the church. I loved simplicity.  I think this would make a great family tree quilt or church charter wall-hanging.

 I love the 3d block pattern, you can arrange it so many different ways and get a wide variety of styles.

The only bad thing is that seeing different styles and patterns always makes me want to head home and forget about everything else except sewing.  I suppose if I were able to do that, then sewing might cease being such a wonderful hobby.

What things do you enjoy seeing if you ever have spare time?

NaNoWriMo

It's October.
Just thought I'd throw that out in case you hadn't realized it.
Next month is November, which means Turkey Day, Iron Bowl, a trip to Alabama and goodness knows what else.
It also means National Novel Writing Month.  You start November 1st and write like crazy. No corrections, no editing, just simple, straight, out-right, rough-draft writing. They even have a website, as well as a Raleigh-Durham support group.
I started one year and quit about day four.
Dare I try again?
Do I tackle an outline and one of the two story lines that keep filtering in and out of the fuzzy section in my brain?
Should I buy and wear this sweatshirt?

Life is so full of choices.

obituaries...not for the faint hearted

The Little Red Hen Club was the scene of a brutal attack and multiple murders around 1am, October 12, 2010.  A small fox was caught in the spot light, but due to its ability to run and hide in the dark quickly  has yet to be captured. The door to the small red hen house was partially destroyed and is slated for repairs today. The Rhode Island hen named Red is the only walking survivor. Owners of the Little Red Hen Club are checking into the possibility of night gear to help apprehend the suspected criminal.

 Rooster, (also known by the names of Handsome, Ugly, and Sweetie Pie) was seriously injured during the battle and is not expected to make it through the night.

 Hilda, missing in action, presumed dead.

 Spot, missing in action. Presumed dead.

 Little buff. KIA

 Grey. Beheaded.

 Big Buff. Slaughtered.

Little Bit. Presumed dead on 10.11.10







Not shown: Black, Little Bit's Mom. KIA.

quilt challenge update

www.keepsakequilting.com

If you visit the above link, scroll to the bottom of the page.  Click on News&Events, then the words "New!  Challenge Gallery" It will take a few minutes for everything to load, but you can start looking at all the pictures by clicking on a picture of the first quilt.  I was impressed and amazed at all the different quilts submitted!

And speaking of quilts, I have reached the half-way point on Bobby's quilt! WHOOHOOO!!!

bow ties

When I think bow tie, I think of a tuxedo. For ordinary people, I only think of bow ties when I think of dress attire for philosophers, historians, some musicians, writers.  In other words, those who march to their own drumbeat. So imagine my surprise when Belk started advertising bow ties in their dress section. 

I've debated buying one for various family members, but the reality is, I just can't see any of the menfolk in my family wearing one. Of all the men I know, I can only think of two who could pull off wearing a bow tie. One is the music leader at our church, and the other is my brother-in-law Rex.
Ladies, what do you think? 
A) Would you want your husband to wear a bow tie?  and
B) Would he?

the dishwasher

Yesterday during our AM sermon on Colossians 3 and the importance of our attitude in jobs http://cbministry.net/sermons.shtml (it's the first one), I could help but think about my attitude toward housework.  Other than my mother, I can't think of anyone who enjoys washing dishes or sweeping floors. And yet, every time I do that job I should do it as if I were doing it for the Lord. Quite honestly, I don't think such a thought has ever crossed my mind when I scrubbed the toilet or fought the in-ground dirt in the kitchen floor. And while I really don't think God cares one iota about the cleanliness level of my house, He does care about my attitude. Do I moan and groan over these seemingly inconsequential never-ending tasks, or do I tackle them with joy and gladness?

So after giving myself the above luke-warm pep-rally, here's a list of my favorite cleaning products:

 This what my mother had us use on all furniture and kitchen cabinets growing up. And I love it, especially since I found it in a spray bottle!  We never used those growing up, though I don't know whether it was the financial factor or the economic factor.  But they both shine very well!

 This is great on hardwood floors, though I'm not crazy about the way it smells.

 My favorite absolute luxury item! It's great for ANYTHING: around the door handles of doors, the tomato stained kitchen counter tops, the bathroom, Bobby's wheelchair.  The only drawback is their price.  I ran out of my supply a few weeks ago and made do with my old sponge and bottle cleaner, and was so thankful to see a coupon in Sunday's paper.  For some reason cleaning the bathroom seems to take less time when I use these.

And one of my favorite kitchen floor cleaners.  Pine-sol does great as well, but this will somewhat tackle the in-grained dirt in the floor.  I don't recommend tile with marble indentions in it for the kitchen, even if it does match the rest of the house.  Within a few years you'll not love it quite so much.

What cleaning products make your housework zing?

random inner thoughts

For Kevan and Becky and Lydia and Sharon, and all my other friends who are hurting and struggling through these days:

Psalm 56:8

I can't bear your burden.
I can't carry your pain.
But my heart still hurts for you
and cries out just the same.

Feelings I may never know,
Fears I cannot see,
I learn to give a warm embrace
And give you some reprieve.


The Spirit brings your name to mind
Again I kneel in prayer.
I cannot find the words to say.
Lord, let them feel You there.

You have a record of my tears.
You know my sundry thoughts.
Is the sea your bottle?
The sand its stopper?
The wanderings my many thoughts?


Laughter is like medicine.
To you once again I cry.
Restore my broken spirit;
Help my soul to fly.


He is...
I am...
and the fillers list grows long.
When circumstances chill my soul
God's faithful to bring song.

cousins

Science projects...I don't remember having many of those as a child.  So I found it neat and fun that a friend of mine was collecting bugs for her son. Not just any bugs, mind you, but specifically, insects.  And I've learned a few cool things these last two weeks while looking and listening.
We had a yellow jacket nest outside the door which I sprayed and easily bagged up.  There were wasp nests on the front porch, but evidently they've abandoned the nest (or else heard the eldest J was coming to get 'em), for there's no wasps to be seen the last few weeks. We knocked down a few dirt dauber's nests and pulled two apart.  We didn't get a complete dauber, but we get enough broken parts in the nests that it should count. Since the Mom wasn't familiar with this crazy insect, and I was woefully ignorant, I googled it.  Turns out the dirt dauber has three different names throughout the US. The south calls it dirt dauber or mud dauber.  The west calls it mud wasps.  And essentially that's what it is.  A wasp that builds its nest out of mud.  Part of the nest is for food storage, and the other part is for nesting. The debate is still on as to whether or not they sting.  Most people claim they don't; others ferociously claim they do.
But I digress.  What's cool about the yellow jacket, the black wasp, and the dirt dauber, is that they are all in the same family... cousins, if you will.  All very different, all distinct stings, but still related.

the black wasp

the yellow jacket

the dirt dauber

So the next time I ponder families with cousins like mine (blond hair, blue eyes/ brown hair/brown eyes/ red hair, green eyes/ and all sorts of sundry mixtures of those deviants), I can point to nature and simply say, "God likes variety." 
Courtesy of a 4th grade science project.  :)

age 20

At the age of 20 two dramatic things happened in my life.  One, my Christian service assignment was a ladies Bible study at the Nashville Rescue Mission.  Two, as part of my Missions degree, I spent 6 weeks in Ivory Coast, West Africa learning to analyze cultures.

Experience number one made several impacts, the most memorable being a study where the ladies angrily and verbally attacked the group leader doing the study. Her lesson was on salvation, and they blew up when she started up about everyone being a sinner. Their questions and anger startled me. Our group leader, like me, grew up in nice Christian homes. Our clothes may not have been new and our food may not have been exquisite, but we always had clean clothes on our backs and food on our table at every meal. We had a loving environment.  The same could not be said for these ladies. I wish the person in charge of service assignments had given us the first two weeks of preparation time to learn about the mission, its people, and how best to reach them. Our message was correct; our way of delivering it wasn't. I struggled long and hard that year with where I fit on the social ladder.  By Bible College student standards, I was a poor church mouse.  By the street ladies standards, I was wealthy.

Then my first trip overseas came. I realized regardless of what anyone in my school had or earned, the simple fact of American resources and what I had made me one of the riches people on earth. I saw poverty that I never dreamed possible. The remainder of the year I struggled with the American mindset of success, but even more, the question of why God allowed me to be born in a rich country while others who are smarter and more creative were born into poverty with no opportunities.

I'd like to say that in the last 18 years I've reached some answers and conclusions.  I have a few small stones that I can stand on when such thoughts weigh me down.

• My purpose on earth is to glorify Almighty God.  That purpose does not change regardless of my position in life.
• Like Abraham, I'm blessed to be a blessing.  I'm to share what God has given me. How to do that wisely isn't so easily answered, but the principle is a certainty.
• There's a season and a time for everything (Ecclesiastes 3). Just because the situation is one thing today doesn't mean it has to be that way tomorrow.

So now I go about my day and ponder a few of the questions from my past.  But now I've added one I didn't have back then.  Have I made any progress in making my life count?

perspective

I finished reading a children's book "Boy in the Striped Pajamas" this morning, a middle-grade historical fiction that has a unique point of view on the holocaust. As always, the book and the movie have large differences, but the main plot sticks to the same premise.

Nothing like something as horrific as the Holocaust can help slap your priorities into place.  I am such a spoiled brat.  Here am I aggravated because this stupid cold makes it difficult to breathe and our phones and internet are out for day 6 of this month, when I am living in the land of the free.  I have a Christian brother about my age in prison in China who has been sentenced to 25-30 years, essentially a life sentence, and whose fifteen year old son and wife are struggling to get by without his income.  He is denied the opportunity to appeal, usually denied his monthly visits by his wife and attorney, and I complain because I have a cold.

I don't understand the horrors of war, of hate, and of ignorance, and probably never will fully grasp the hows and whys this side of heaven.  I sometimes question in my heart the Old Testament teachings that were comparable to the holocaust and other such modern genocides, and wonder what this God I serve truly thinks about such matters.  I cling to the promise from Psalm 116:15 that the death of the saints is precious in the sight of the Lord, but still ponder why death for His saints in most of the world must be so horrific.

So now I'm struggling to put my thoughts on things that are good and truth and just and lovely and of good report, and not on the depraved, unchangeable past.  May my heart be renewed and revived, may I willingly choose to stand for what is right and good, not matter the cost.  And the wimp inside whispers, "and may I never have to suffer for it."  Stoic, I'm not.

a quieter life

I enjoy blogging.  I like Facebook.
But I would have never considered myself an internet junkie.
Until now.

For the third time in two weeks, we are without internet and phone service.
I am at my mom-in-laws to satisfy my "needs."
And in all sincerity, I am expecting three e-mails about times/meetings for this weekend.
It would be bad to show up at the wrong time somewhere.

But those three e-mails aside, it's really not a necessity to update my blog, read all the blog feeds, check facebook, or visit a website or two.

And the scary thing?  I've gotten a whole lot more housework and projects done since our internet has been so skittish this last week.  As much as a I love the world wide web, I am astounded at how much of my life it has absconded.  Seriously.

Like chocolate and sweet tea, I'm not ready to give it  up, but I am starting to wonder if it's time to enforce the "moderation in all things" mantra to my life.

Excess, indulgence, gluttony...they're all the same thing, aren't they?

He must increase; I must decrease.

I'm taking a deep breath as I type this, but I'm imposing a time limit for the computer this next week.  Now if I can just figure out how to enforce it. :/