toxins

For the third time this year it has happened. I eat totally healthy (or at least 98% healthy) for a day or two and then BAMM! - a migraine hits hard and heavy. Maybe I'm allergic to fruits or salads, even though I like them. Maybe I'm allergic to diet drinks or juice. I don't know. I suppose some critics would say all three migraines also happened when the atmosphere was in a severe flux, or my body was simply very tired. All these things may be true, but it does make a gal stop and ponder.
Man shall not live by bread alone, says the Word. But note it doesn't say we have to do without it, either. If only it said the same thing about chocolate.

ggGrrRRRR!

It's official. According to Facebook, that is. I'm a full-fledged Yankee.
The reality is, I'm a hermit red-neck from Central Alabama and I've never really cared what people in Louisiana, southern Florida, or southern Mississippi did. That had no bearing on my life whatsoever. Now, give me a quiz on "You know you're from Alabama if..." and I'll pass with decent colors. Maybe I should learn how to write my own quizzes.

tornado drills and talking

Last night I had the fabulous opportunity of talking to my nephew, who is 9, on the telephone. This is in itself is almost miraculous. I was thrilled he came to the phone (even if I asked so his mom could quickly take care of something she needed to do), and even more thrilled that I got a few sentences that were more than one word answers.
Wednesday morning my hometown of Cordova, AL was hit by a tornado. I peppered him with questions, and one of his answers reminded me of a part of my childhood I had forgotten: the hallway chatter. In the Walker County School system, schools have two types of drills that happen on a regular basis: fire and tornado. During a tornado drill, you grab a hard-back textbook, exit the room in single file, line up, crouching, with your back against the wall in the hall, tuck your head between your knees, and hold the opened textbook over your head. If a teacher knows it's a drill and not the real thing, sometimes you can take the book off your head once she realizes you know what to do. But when it is the real thing, some teachers go into drill sergeant mode. NO TALKING! Others want to soothe and assure so you're allowed to talk as long as it doesn't get too loud. Mason said the first thirty minutes there was absolutely no talking (the school lost power) from any class, and the last thirty minutes they could talk for a little bit. During the non-drill times, I always thought it was a waste when we had to sit out in the hallway with nothing to do but we weren't allowed to talk.
Cordova, in Mason's words, "is a mess." No one was injured, but downtown (i.e. buildings aligning one street) is missing roofs, awnings, and has warped mailboxes (the big ones). Personally, I think downtown should be dozed and rebuilt (or at least totally renovated), but I would never utter such words in public there or I might be tarred and feathered. I don't know if that makes me unappreciative or too concerned about outward appearances, but sometimes I think it would be cool to go back and redo downtown. But that moves from rejoicing to daydreaming, so I better sign off.

weather memories

When I was a little girl, Channel 11 News had a special commercial about weather preparedness. It showed an elementary school in Birmingham where the kids were going through a tornado drill (like the fire drills, they were supposed to be practiced monthly), and then it flipped to scenes of the same school after a tornado had hit it. But of course, these kids were prepared and they knew EXACTLY what to do when a tornado hit. I wanted my school to be in that commercial so bad I could hardly stand it.
Every time a tornado passed through the area, we all hoped we would be the ones to go to school the next day and talk about losing a porch or having a tree on Dad's truck or having our tornado wrapped around the pine trees out back. I was never one of the "lucky" kids who had such excitement.
The church I grew up in was also a gathering place during storms, because it had a basement. Every time the weather got bad Daddy (or all of us) would have to go to the church so people could come for safety, even if it was during the night. One particular time I remember we had to stay there for what seemed like hours. All the men went outside to watch the clouds, but of course it wasn't safe for little children. It made me so mad. I wanted to watch for funnel clouds, too, and I was certain I could run faster to get away than the fat old men outside. Thankfully I did have enough sense not to tell my Mom that last part.
I look back on those days now and laugh. As an adult when I hear bad weather reports, I think of safety, of medical bills, of heartache, the cost of destruction. But storms still excite me. I've always enjoyed thunderstorms (as long as the lightning doesn't get too close to the house), and I was disappointed that my first hurricane in North Carolina came through at night. (I think that made it a little creepier than it was.)
I no longer want to be in a tornado safety commercial, nor do I want my home to be the "news" or excitement of the day. But I still find the fury of nature an exciting example of God's awesome power.

never dull but always the same

One day when I showed my husband Sara's blog, he sat there and stared a minute, then said something like, "I wonder if she'd come to our house and think it's really plain, like an empty canvas." And I've thought about the "empty canvas" a few times.
For example, in our front entryway there are two places that are about the same size as a canvas in my artroom. Yet I would never think of painting something there, and it would have never ever crossed my mind had Sara not opened up that line of thought and possibility. We also have a tray ceiling in the living room, and my nephew informed me he thought it was the perfect place to line up pictures of him and our other nieces and nephews. I laughingly declined, but later it made me ponder how I could see a simple space but he saw a place in need of something.

I think our days in life are that way. The last two mornings have been those hard to get up and going days, and yet both days have been very full, if not productive. Today's been downright crazy (a dead chicken, punished dogs, errands with a test, cool spring rain and contemplations on many things), and yet today has really not been all that different from every other day on the calendar. (Other than the fact I kept thinking it was Wednesday all day at work). But maybe that's because I viewed today as simple space instead of a canvas waiting to be decorated. How would my days be different if I could renew my mind to immediately think "WHOhoooO!" upon awaking instead of "ohhhhhhhh" with a sigh? If I was so transformed that I saw this day's blank canvas as the gift that it is instead of a piece of paper with "To Do" at the top and many little dots or check boxes underneath it? If I saw the bright sun beckoning me when I got up instead of taunting me, just as I see rain as the refreshing welcome bath for the world that it is?

My days will always be the same in some ways: shoes will always make my feet hurt, my joints will ache and pop the first twenty minutes I move, and I'll always have to decide what to do for meals and wash clothes. I guess we could say those are our art supplies. But the rest, that blank canvas - what if I treated it a little bit differently every day instead of the same old colors and look? Life could be very interesting indeed.

April detours

Goals are nice. Projects are fun. Meeting and completing each of them is wonderful! But I have these little detours, diversions, unexpected events (fancy names of other projects) that always pop up. For example...
One of my goals for April was to clean out the freezer. BUT my big freezer is in the laundry room, and who would be crazy enough to empty a freezer amidst a pile of stuff to be ironed. SOooo, I'm happy to report that the laundry room is almost empty, and if everything goes according to plan (like it ever does), then I will be cleaning out the freezer on Wednesday afternoon.
Another goal was to cover the garden aisles. I am happy to report that the entire garden is now planted, 3/4 of a fence is up for the climbing snow peas (thanks Jeff and Tommy!), and 1/2 of the garden has pine straw on top of newspaper in its aisles in hopes of eliminating weeds. Perhaps within the next two weeks I will finish raking and placing pine straw. After I use the lawnmower on the growing grass in one of the rows, of course.
Dreamweaver lessons (computer software) one and two got postponed due to: chickens. Last Saturday morning became devoted to moving them out of the brooder box and into the dog's pen. That'll be a post for another day this week. Let's just say the education goal was replaced with chicken coop surfing on the internet. It'll also be put off a while as my potential coop on CraigsList disappeared and we are now in design mode before we recruit our friendly builders. I can cut boards and slap on paint, but my hammer skills leave a little bit to be desired.
The quilt for A&A's wedding might actually be finished by Christmas, though my realist husband says maybe by their third wedding anniversary. Let's just say progress is being made, but progress is slow indeed.
and the living room painting? It's still where I left it at the end of March.
I'm not making "goals" for May. I need to get my current projects finished, or at least somewhat attacked, in between getting my head screwed back on correctly. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying our weather and trying not to scratch my itchy eyelids.

the irony of life & beliefs

Crazy days with crazy mess

More than I can do myself

Protocol from my past

Demands that I must pass the test.

But Sarah had a maid.

Little kids in need of homes

In need of love, a place to roam

Wisdom says the man's too old

To start a family that will grow

But Abram had a child.

Pack of donuts on my desk

Powdered white as I like best

No one's here to ever know

Where that little pack will go

But gluttony's still a sin.

Use your talents and your brain;

Don't waste your life - the world's refrain

I have no kids but a semi-career

And struggle to keep it all in gear.

But is that cleaving to my spouse?

Big boxy shoes I hate to wear

Along with makeup and high-maintenance hair.

Yet I wonder what people think

And keep a style somewhat in sync.

But isn't that lilies in the field?

We talk the talk

Teach the truths

Dress up in our Sunday suits

But how does it live in today?