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Showing posts from November, 2013

a good kind of crazy

Wednesday night we took an internet sabbatical as I began sanding down the floors in the study (meaning we couldn't get to the computer), restaining the wood, and then putting on a sealer. (It was quite funny being in Lowe's on Black Friday purchasing polyerathaune and Liquid Plummer while everyone was buying gifts and Christmas decorations.) This morning we headed to Staples to see about getting a rubber mat to place under the plastic floor cover we had (the plastic allowed dirt to get underneath and simply ground it in the floor), but they only had door mat type things. The salesman suggested getting expensive shelf liner to try, but Bobby decided we'd go with the doormat instead. I'm pleased with the space it covers, and if we can get one end to finish uncurling, I think (hope) we're going to be very happy with it. My goal is to sweep/vaccumm there every night (or at least every other morning?) in hopes of keep the floor in a better condition. But judging by the

accounting

A few days ago one of my aunts posted something on Facebook about how holidays were very hard times for many people, and we didn't need to forget about those people. And as I thought about the struggles they were facing (she's out of work due to health issues and working on getting disability, Uncle Don lost his job at the mines, her daughter has been diagnosed with MS, four years ago at this time her mother was murdered by a nephew on drugs, etc) I couldn't help but think about the number of people who are grieving during this holiday season when everyone around them is rejoicing. I have so much to be thankful for. I have been blessed in so many ways. And yet I recognize there are those, while just as blessed and loved by God, are deeply hurting when everyone around them is festive and ecstatic. A friend of mine recently wrote a post on that subject: When Sorrow Begets Gratitude . A young girl left a comment, stating how she found nothing to be grateful for in the unex

telephones

Most Saturdays we get a 15-30 minute from two of our great-nephews. They're about 3 and 4. Today they "discovered" the telephone (yes, we still have a land line) that is in plain sight on the kitchen bar. They've walked by it multiple times, but maybe it was too close but yet still too high from their eye level. But for whatever reason, they saw it today, were greatly puzzled, and wanted to know "What is that?" Within five minutes of that conversation, the telephone rang, which it has never done in their presence before. Their eyes got very big, and widened even larger when I picked up the receiver and said "hello."  And then things got a little interesting. It was for Bobby, who had been playing in the toy room and was trapped there by all the toys scattered around his chair. I asked our pastor to wait a minute, told the four year old "Do NOT touch that" and left the room knowing he most likely would. Within the few seconds it took to

not quite an epic failure

I ventured out on a limb this afternoon and tried to make fudge for tomorrow's now-not coming company. I've never been very successful with fudge. Today's batch was one of the two I've made that solidified correctly (it didn't break the bowl and it's not too soft). But it's still not Aunt Pat's fudge. Every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas, Aunt Pat made fudge with walnuts. I love my Mom and Aunt Linda, but nothing held a candle to Aunt Pat's fudge. It was heavenly. She died during my second year overseas, and I miss her hugs and smile and...yes...her fudge. It seems so trivial, but it's always like there's a tiny something missing.  But I do have her recipe now, so hopefully in a few weeks I will bravely stand in front of the stove and attempt yet again one of the foods that my memory holds high on a pedestal. Meanwhile, I've still got a little cleaning left to do.

my cup overflows

Tuesday is election day for Wake County.  Even though two of my precincts will be closed tomorrow (only my Garner city residents are voting, what we'd call "Garner proper" back home), I'm still very thankful to work with a group of people who care about the voting process and are willing to put aside party differences and opinions for a day and a half to ensure who have a totally fair election.  While I'm not crazy about the long hours (we get up at 4am so I can head out the door 6am and I won't be home until around 9pm tomorrow night, provided we don't head to Waffle House for supper then), it is nice being able to work four times a year at something I think is important AND get paid for it. Monday marked the day that 15 years ago a certain someone asked me to marry him.  And I must say, Part III of this life has been quite wonderful. I love and appreciate him more now than I did then, and I would have never dreamed that was possible. And...I love my

cows

Not too long ago I learned about this thing called miniature cows.  I've teased Bobby that if he wants cows, then that's what we'll get. The reality is, the last thing I need or want is something else to take care of, and I do think he's right that the cost of the animal upkeep probably would cost more than you'd make in sale price. But we got to see some of the miniature Herefords during the competitions at the state fair.  The above photo is of a Momma cow. The girl was having a very hard time getting it to go where she needed it to be (the cow wanted its calf and OUT of the ring!) and the judge behind her had to give her a hand.  I have a hard enough time maneuvering Buster's 57 pounds. I can't imagine having to herd or corral an animal that weighed 250. (And if you've never been around real cows, this full grown miniature heifer is 1/2 of the size of what a normal cow would be.) I think miniature's grow to be about 36" tall.    Thi