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Showing posts from July, 2013

what I'm not doing this week

I think I've now read/skimmed/observed a hundred Facebook/blogger posts about getting ready for school. I'm not. I have family coming to visit next week. So what I am doing this week is scrubbing cobwebs and fungus off the back porch, laundry, mopping floors, cleaning out the garage, and sewing.  Other than the back porch and the garage, it's just life as usual. Well, not totally. Tomorrow is an exception. And I'm starting a new project today (as opposed to the uncountable unfinished projects I alread have going).  Three years ago several friends and an out-of-state quilt show (I'll tell more details later) prompted the crazy idea to enter a quilt at the state fair. I did start a quilt that year, and decided there was no way, no how that quilt would either be finished or acceptable for the state fair that year. And I was write. (I did finally finish it last month, though.)  Saturday night I sketched out a few things, and Bobby helped me measure stuff and fig

#2

This past Saturday Cordova High School Class of 1991 lost its second member. Jermaine Cook was 40 years old, has two children, and served our country in the US Army for 15 years.We knew him as "Wormy".  I don't know how he got that name, whether it was because he was short and wiry, or from his football skills, or from constantly moving, but it stuck.I remember him laughing, the group of guys he hung out with, and his rap performance in the school talent show (he did quite well).And those days still seem like yesterday.So this Saturday while I'm at a family reunion in North Carolina, my heart and thoughts will be in Alabama with my classmates as they cross the tracks to Mt. Zion church and weep and reminisce. I wish I could be there with them, to chat, to hug, to speak to his Mom. The night of our graduation, our principal challenged us to look around the room at everyone before we marched out, for that night would most likely be the last time we saw some of our clas

creeeepy

I was going to blog about gardening and time and whether or not it's worth it today, but about every three minutes I hear a noise here in the study. I don't know if it's paper's settling, a bird outside the window trying to build a nest, or a mouse, but it's really starting to creep me out. I think Bobby might get the computer early today. And having said that, it's on to housework and errands! No more creepy noises for me!

the little things

In all of the media (both news and social) hoopla surrounding the Zimmerman/Martin case, my mind keeps going back to the simple truths my parents instilled in me as a child.  As adults, we tend to focus a lot on theological doctrines, but I'm finding it's those small, simple truths that truly alter how society functions.  Truth #1: the Golden Rule Do unto others as you would have them to do unto you.  Or the modern paraphrase of that, "Treat others the way you want to be treated."  As Mom loved to remind me, it's not "treat you sister the way she treats you" or "treat her in a way that protects your interests"  but the way you'd like for her to treat you.  And when we apply that to our neighbors, a waitress, a sales clerk, DMV workers, the teenager messing up our house, it radically alters a situation. Truth #2: Be KIND, Tenderhearted, Forgiving one another LIKE CHRIST FORGAVE YOU! The being kind part is probably the easiest of that s

the little things

It's funny how little things can remind you of a loved one. Being in the kitchen, sewing, laundry, fishing...those things always remind me of my Mom and Granny Rea. Working in the garden or listening to someone talk about their family...Ma White. This past week it was the oddest thing that took me back.. a simple scrambled egg sandwich. The first one I ever had was from Granny Rea's lunch bag.  We were helping Dad clean and start closing out the Home & Auto store he managed for several years, and Dad was busy with a customer when it came time for lunch. We normally went next door to the Handy Dandy and bought a hot ham and cheese sandwich, but as the customers kept streaming in and the phone kept ringing, Granny offered me half of her sandwich. I had never heard of an egg sandwich. She opened it up to show me what it looked like. It had pepper on it.  To my four year old mind, that was an instant no.  But as time passed and Dad still wasn't free, and Granny kept ins

matters of the heart

A few months ago, a girl who sat beside me in high school band and is my sister's age (they were actually born on the same day!), had a massive heart attack. I haven't seen her in years, but I remember her as very petite. I don't think heart problems ran in her family, so I was quite surprised. I was even more surprised to read that she had another attack requiring three more stints this past week. She's only 38, and yet she's had two serious heart attacks. She's the second person from home to have a heart attack while in their late 30s. And that scares me more than a little. I had to do my labwork this morning. I know next week my Dr. will be most unhappy that I've gained all my weight back from six months ago. Changes are ahead for me. I know that. But for some reason starting this fight AGAIN seems even harder. It's more frustrating this round, more discouraging. I'm hoping for good numbers when I see the doctor next week, but I'm not

say WHAT?

Because Bobby graduated from NC State, we're always getting stuff in the mail about trips you can take with the alumni association. (About the only thing we get from Wake Forrest or my alma maters are solicitations.)  Usually I just toss them, but the one this week actually looked interesting, so I was reading through the details (aka the fine print) in hopes of finding accessibility information (for which there was zilch).  But I did find this under the Advance Travel Information: "Homeland Security laws require that all guests travel with government-issued photo identification (ID) (such as a driver's license) at all times. ID must be presented at the time of boarding. Guests without proper ID will be denied boarding. AQSC is required to provide all guests' ID information including ID number, expiration date, and place of issue to the Coast Guard and/or other government entities prior to the vessel's departure. Guests must provide this information to AQSC in ad

fashion questions

We've been reading this week in Exodus, where God has given Moses, Joshua and the 70 elders directions for making the temple. These passages always both excite and frustrate me. It's exciting because I realize something new every time I read them. It's frustrating because I WANT PICTURES! I have a tendancy to start mentally chasing rabbits while Bobby reads, and some mornings he can tell that my mind is a million miles away when he finishes. I shocked him the other day by not only answering his questions, but drawing an example on the napkin of what I thought the candelabra might look like. I WAS daydreaming, but it was possible designs of what he was reading. :) And (in addition to the realization there were 70 people on the mountain with Joshua and Moses), I never realized God gave DESIGNS (aka PICTURES) to them while he was giving them instructions. We have our first Biblical recording of a design/trade school. How awesome is that? Which leads me to today's r

it shouldn't but it does

Many years ago I was sitting in fast-food kid's play place with a child whose older sister was up in a crawl space with some other children. We could hear two other children talking with her, and as they began to ask questions about her disability, I could feel her brother bristling beside me. Had he been one of my chickens, every single one of his feathers would have been fluffed out in anger.  Granted, the children weren't asking anything inappropriate nor were they being rude, but it still greatly bothered their sibling. At the time I thought it was precious, and it reminded me of the old saying, "No one but me is allowed to say things about my sister!" I was reminded of that scenario today. While visiting a friend in the hospital, we passed a woman with her elderly mother. The mother was using a cane and barely moving, and as we passed on our side of the hallway, the daughter turned and said, "Oh, Mom! Wouldn't it be nice if you could have one of those!

What's in a name?

Thirty plus years ago, something happened to Mom. She came to the breakfast table and couldn't sit down for the pain. She couldn't turn, she couldn't bend, she couldn't move. I think it's an understatement to say we kids were concerned and scared. And our family slowly morphed into a new normal. Mom would have "flair-ups" periodically after that. Sometimes they would last 2 days; sometimes a month. We learned that extensive housework (washing windows, mopping all the floors) made them worse, though we never quite seemed to convince Mom of that. Sometimes we were awesome children and would try to beat her to some of the chores to spare her back. Sometimes we didn't. The doctor's treated for rheumatoid arthritis, though the bloodwork consistently showed she did not have it, and their treatments often helped. But not always. With no proper diagnosis and Mom's low tolerance for medicine, we had more than our share of interesting experiences