Who's on First....

My Dear Hubby deserves a medal in patience. Have you ever seen this classic clip with Abbott and Costello? This is what it's like to live with me.

I have a refrigerator magnet that says it all, at least for my long-suffering Dear Hubby who's been with me 36 years now. It says: "You can tell a Swede. You just can't tell them much." I don't know how many times I've caused that poor man to shake his head at me and say, "For someone so smart, how can you be so dense?!" Because I am. Dense.

A couple of days ago we went to a corporate center to a company where we had to sign some documents. I had the Mapquest directions in hand and navigated us to the building without any problem. As we walked into the huge main lobby I consulted the notes I'd taken and told Dear Hubby, "It's Suite 200 so we need to go to the second floor." So we found the elevator and got on and Dear Hubby pushed the "2" button. The doors stayed open so he pushed the button again. The doors slid shut. After what seemed an eternity the doors slid open again and I could see the number 2 etched in to each side of the door posts so I said, "We're on the 2nd floor now." "We are on the 2nd floor," Dear Hubby said back. I gave him kind of a weird look and said, "Yes, that's what I told you. We're on the 2nd floor." As I started to step off the elevator I said, "Boy, that was the quietest and smoothest elevator I've ever ridden on!" And he said, "That's because it didn't go anywhere." I stopped in my tracks and looked at him. "What do you mean?" I asked. "It went to the 2nd floor." "No," he rolled his eyes at me, "we're on the 2nd floor." "I know," I said, "because we just got there."

We each took an exasperated sigh and tried again.

"What I'm telling you," he explained ever-so-patiently, "is that we were on the 2nd floor to begin with. The reason you had such a smooth ride is because the elevator didn't go anywhere. There's another floor below us that's below ground."

The light bulb finally began to flicker.

Author Update: Linda brought it to my attention that "Aren't most floors underneath the ground the basement?" so I must explain that this is a building built into a hillside. The main doors to the lobby actually do open onto the 2nd floor. The floor underneath is the 1st floor, with huge windows looking out over the valley. Underneath that is the basement, haha!

Don't refuse to go on an occasional wild goose chase - that's what wild geese are for. ~ Author Unknown

A long week. Not a bad one, just a lot of stuff going on in the background here at home that hasn't made its way to the blog screen. Suffice it to say I've got an awful lot on my mind. Again, nothing bad...just some things that need a lot of careful thought and prayer. I am too tired, too fragmented, to think of anything original this evening so I've done a meme, for what it's worth:

1. Have you ever fired a gun or shot a bow and arrow? Yes, to both

2. Do you know where your childhood best friends are? Yes, amazingly, I do know where most of them are.

3. Do you usually arrive early, late, or on time? Maybe a few minutes early but basically on time. Having been a person who didn't learn to drive until Dear Hubby taught me at the age of 20 I either rode my 10-speed bike or walked. I had to depend on a lot of people for rides to work especially. Because people were invariably late, lateness is one of my worst pet peeves in others. A 4 o'clock appointment? It means 4 o'clock, not 4:25. If I tell you dinner will be served at 6 pm, dinner will be served at 6 pm. Argggghhhh. What's so hard about that?! One thing that cracks me up about several people in the congregation at our church is the fact that the same ones, over and over and over again fo years, show up 5 minutes late...they come wandering in to find their accustomed pews. Why not leave home 5 minutes earlier?!? It just drives. me. nuts.

4. Are you more of a New York or California type? Most definitely California. And I'm not talking LA-hip...I'm talking nature/beach/laid-back sun-loving California.

5. Do you have a special ring tone? Our cell was set by our daughter so what we have is her doing, mostly. As Plain Jane as we could get it. To this day I still prefer the old-fashioned 'bringggggg'.

6. What is your favorite type of chip? I like a rice chip made with sea salt I get in the Natural Food aisle. Couldn't tell you what they taste like but they're the crunchiest things I've ever had and that's why I love them. With no sense of taste, texture is just about everything in food. And sea salt is so much better for us.

7. Best comedy you've ever seen is .... "Harvey" with James Stewart. What a classic.

8. Have you ever cut your own hair? Yes, my bangs many times and I've even whacked at the sides of it. But Dear Hubby's been the one to trim up the rest of it for me.

9. If you were going to have an extreme makeover, would you rather it be about your house or your personal self? House. I'm pretty comfortable with how I look. I've never been a beauty, I never will be. But our house? It is 98 years old and as soon as we get one thing fixed something else falls to pieces. I'd like custom remodeling but I'd do the decorating. I like my eclectic way of throwing stuff together and having it come out as my own.

10. Are you allergic to anything? Yes, nuts and cottonwood trees.

11. Why is it so hard to change? I'd say 100% of the time it's caused by fear of the unknown.

12. One last question dedicated to February love: CS Lewis said, "To love is to be vulnerable." Please share one example of that assertion or share any thought you'd like to about this topic. Make sure you like who you fall in love with. Love mellows with time...lust and passion, too. If that's all you based your relationship on you're going to be mighty disappointed a few years down the line. But if you appreciate your mate as a person and a friend as well, therein lies the keys to building a rich life together.

God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say "thank you?" ~ William A. Ward

Dear Pillow Pals...

How can you be out-of-stock?! With only a little over two weeks until my grandson Dylan's 4th birthday, I was sure I could sit down and order one this morning and have it here with plenty of time to spare. Argghhh.

A survivor of the Cabbage Patch Doll frenzy of the 70s but not ready to shell out $74.99 on Ebay for a Squeaky Dolphin,
Disgruntled Grandma

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Dear Nessa,

I feel like a fraud. I have discovered your wonderful blog and I know who you are...in fact, I remember you in diapers. But you don't have even the remotest clue in the world who I am. I have left a couple of comments with my screen name but no link to here...even if you ever came here I'm not sure you'd figure out who I am! The reason I hesitate to let you know that I 'know' you is because I'm afraid it would inhibit you, and your 'writer's voice' is so wonderful in its un-paranoid state - I am, after all, of your 'parents' generation - I wouldn't want to do anything to ruin it. So...I will continue to read. And continue to comment. And leave you in blissful unawareness.

Your Anonymous Fan,
MissKris

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Dear John....

You are a quiet warehouseman at a plumbing supply store nearby who my grandboys and I have befriended over the past year. They love to watch you drive the forklift whenever we walk by. Your friendly smile, soft-spoken voice, and gentle demeanor have endeared you to them. Until the other day, I had never seen Dylan walk up to someone on his own and offer his hand to shake...but he did to you. And you so seriously and respectfully shook hands with him like he was another man, not just a little boy. You don't know this, but you are an angel to me.

So thankful there are still people like you in this world to be role models for little boys,
Double-stroller Grandma

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Dear Anonymous Person who dropped 8 cents on the ground and figured they were of no value to you...

Thank you for not caring, because the grandboys and I spotted them in the barkdust on the curbside yesterday during our walk. They were as excited as if they'd found buried treasure! They picked them up and deposited them in my jacket pocket and when we got home we put the coins in their piggy bank. Dylan told me, "Grandma, our piggy bank's getting FULL UP!" Well, if he thinks so...it's a discarded glass gallon wine jug my neighbor Sonny gave me in place of the little plastic pig one Dylan told him had split in two. The coins in there measure about an inch or so deep, but Dylan is a diehard optimist.

Gonna donate them to my grandboys' college educations, yes indeed.

So did you.

Getting closer to that $200,000 goal every day,
Grateful Grandma

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A Broken Heart -- Revisited!

(original artwork for this project by
Kathleen Snider)

How surreal. This afternoon I'd gone to my church's website to look something up and the first sentence of a story in the Youth section caught my eye. I thought, "Well, why does that look familiar?" So I clicked on it and lo and behold, it was one of my stories that I'd written around 25 years ago! Back in the early 80s two other writers and I spent 3 years writing Sunday School curriculum for primary aged children. The curriculum, to my knowledge, has been used by our English-speaking churches worldwide. Since it's been years since my own children have been in that age group I didn't know if our writing was still being used or not...but my random visit to the website showed me that indeed it is. I've mentioned several times in my blog about this writing so here's a sample of my child-level writing:

"A Broken Heart"

Julie and Tara had volunteered to stay after Sunday school to help Mrs. Evans, their teacher, decorate the classroom. First they took down the cutouts of snowflakes and other wintertime decorations, setting them neatly on the table. After Mrs. Evans rummaged around a bit in a cupboard, she came over to the table with a big box in her arms and put it down.
“It will sure be nice to put these winter things away and hang up some springtime decorations,” said Mrs. Evans, smiling at the girls. “I know spring doesn't really come until next month. But after all the ice and snow we've had, I'm really looking forward to seeing the trees budding and the sun shining!”
“What do you have in the box?” Tara asked.
“The Garden of Eden.” Mrs. Evans opened the box and very carefully eased the miniature garden onto the table.
“Oh, how neat!” Julie exclaimed in delight as she and Tara examined Mrs. Evans' creation. She had made tiny trees and flowers, little lambs out of cotton, and a pond with miniature ducks on it. There were even dolls representing Adam and Eve! And right in the center of the garden was a red heart.
“What is that heart doing there?” Tara wondered aloud, looking at it curiously.
Mrs. Evans smiled at her. “Touch it,” she said.
Tara gave a questioning look, but when her teacher nodded she reached out and touched the heart. To her amazement it fell apart!
“It broke!” Tara turned to her teacher. “Oh, Mrs. Evans, I'm sorry!”
“No, no, don't worry Tara .” Mrs. Evans hugged the girl. “It's supposed to break.”
“But, why?” Julie wanted to know.
“Because it represents God's heart,” Mrs. Evans said as she put the pieces together again. “You see, God loved Adam and Eve with all His heart. He made Adam in His own image. Then, when they sinned and went against the things God had taught them, it broke His heart.”
“That's so sad,” Tara sighed.
“Yes, it was sad for them. But our lives can have a happy ending,” Mrs. Evans told the girls as she set the rebuilt heart back into the garden. “It hurts Jesus when we sin. But, if we pray to Him and tell Him we're sorry for our sins, just as Tara told me she was sorry for breaking the heart, it makes Jesus happy. And our hearts are happy too!

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.
— Romans 3:23 --

And -- back to my 'adult' voice here -- isn't it wonderful to know it's just that simple? What a trip down memory lane!

Oh no.............

Please mourn with me.

Last nite when I plugged in my

vacuum cleaner,

I found much to dismay

it had passed away.

Not something I wanted to have discovered,

especially with carpets full of

cracker and Pop Tart

crumbs.

Oh, well.

Hey, babe...take a walk on the wild side....

I'm waiting for the day someone stops me on the street or in the aisle of the grocery store as I'm struggling to maneuver my double stroller around too-sharp corners and asks, "Hey, are you that MissKris the blogger who's always out walking her grandsons?" So far, that fame has eluded me. But today as I came in thru the doors at the library loaded down with my two grandsons and about $70 worth of stuff I'd bought at Walmart crammed in to the basket area underneath I heard a voice say, "Well, hi there!" and I looked over to see a smiling young man grinning at me from ear to ear. I didn't know him from Adam. But he sure seemed to know me so I smiled and said, "Hello!" back. "Boy, you sure do get around!" he told me, and then I realized it was Story Time this morning and he was obviously there with one -- two? three? - of the little ones for that. He was a dad. And where he's ever spotted me walking around the area I don't know but he sure seemed to feel like he knew me! This is not the only time I've had this happen. A while back I had a lady lean out of her van window and yell at me, "I see you walking everywhere!" And of course all the library and store workers know who we are. And of course the fire fighters at the local fire station call us their 'regulars' whenever they have any new guy on board.

Yup, it's that time of year again.

After being stuck inside since around Halloween, I would say, because of inclement weather, colds, flu...whatever...it is almost Spring!!!!!

Which means the grandboys and I are back with a vengeance.

Yessssssssssssss!

Can you tell me the name of that song again?

I went to visit my friend Dori's blog this morning and she had written a beautiful post about the significance of one song in her life. It was inspired by this post at her friend Beth's blog, which I also went to read. And it's been on my mind ever since. I left two different song titles in their comment boxes..."Play Me" by Neil Diamond for Dori and "Loneliness" by Annie Lennox in Beth's. I'd be awfully hard-pressed to come up with just one song for 56 years of life on this earth. Awfully hard-pressed. Because music has been my salvation thru some of the hardest times in my life. It has always been there for me, even when people haven't been. And so I think I'm going to sit here and do some thinking and write about some songs as they come to my mind. I'll start off with the two I've already mentioned:

Play Me by Neil Diamond: Oh, I hear that song and I dissolve in puddles of tears. Every time. They bubble up to the surface and spill over and I have no control over them. Why? Too personal to put in to words in some aspects but others I can tell you, hearing them from this vantage point of Life, are knowing that my parents were both alive, that I was fresh out of high school and finding out that life outside of school was what I'd been hoping it would be...a new start in finding the 'me' who'd been lost to myself for the past 6 years. The hopes of a young woman setting out with stars in her eyes and dreams in her pocket. And, even at the age of 18 or 19, the deep regrets of some of the things I'd already done that I couldn't go over and redo, relive. But now, in hindsight, those regrets have turned into thankfulness. Without those experiences I wouldn't be who I am now. They taught me not to be so harsh, so quick to judge and condemn. To have compassion. A tender heart. Hard earned but well learned.

Loneliness by Annie Lennox: Was this woman peering inside my head when she wrote this song? Are we kindred spirits? Is she the twin who shared my mother's womb and never made it to see the light of day? I have no clue why this song resonates in my heart and soul like it does because I have such a blessed and wonderful life now. But it's funny how our past haunts us, isn't it? The hours, the years, when I was so alone. When I really had no one to talk to, to listen to me. To help me. I'm sure a lot of it was my own fault. I had trust issues. I had a lot of emotional scars that were inches thick. I didn't know how to let anyone in. So I put myself in a box and tucked the lid down tight. It took the right person to come along...Dear Hubby...to start peeling back the layers of scotch tape I'd wrapped around that box and help me see that yes, there still is happiness to be had in this world.

Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin: As a mother, I thought I understood this song. As a grandmother, I know that in my young years I didn't even have a clue what it was all about.

Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce: This was one of 'our songs' when Dear Hubby and I were dating. It's timeless. It means more now to me 36 years later than it did when we were young lovers. Sooooooooooooooooooo much water under the bridge....so many hard times and good times.....sickness.....loss of loved ones.....babies born.....grandchildren. And, with finding the Lord in our young years -- I was a young mother of 22 with an infant daughter 33 years ago -- I'd say the odds of us doing this are pretty good:

"If I could save time in a bottle

The first thing that I'd like to do

Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away

Just to spend them with you"

Why I am a GOOD blogger...

There's so much negativity out there in the blogosphere at times. We bloggers are our own harshest critics, don't you think? Maybe you're like me...I fluctuate from feeling great about my writing abilities one day, only to be in the pit of despair the next. I dunno why. I've heard of menopausal mood swings -- something I really don't deal with much being post-menopausal in my own life now -- but I think bloggers suffer from mood swings that rival the dipsy-doodle ups and downs of the biggest roller coasters in the world. Creative angst mood swings is what I call them. I'm good. I'm bad. I'm mediocre. I once had a commenter say that it was ridiculous for me to blog because I led such a "boring and paltry life". You would've thought that comment would've stopped me in my tracks and caused me to take a shotgun to my computer, then hightail it to the nearest cave, never to show my face again. But oh well. One thing about me, it takes a lot to knock the wind out of my sails.

I read an interesting blog entry this morning about this very subject at "3 Bedroom Bungalow". I'm a fairly new reader at her site but I find her blog very honest, funny, insightful, and entertaining. When I read this around 4 o'clock this morning I think I left her a comment telling her that her post inspired me to write what I'm writing now...I think it's high time we put a positive spin on it. I put a Post-It note on my computer monitor after I left her blog that says, "Why I'm a GOOD Blogger!" just to keep me focused. I've thought a lot about it all day.

I am a good blogger because I love what I'm doing!!!!!!!

Isn't that what it all boils down to? I mean, let's be real here. Yeah, we love comments. We hate to have to reciprocate and feel guilty if we don't. Some days we're in the mood to write. Some days we're not. Some of my own favorite posts have been virtually ignored by my readers. Some of my least favorite have ignited all kinds of comments. Go figure.

But I love what I'm doing!!!!!!

And THAT is why I'm a good blogger.

Thank You Notes

I had so much fun with this the last time I think I'll do it again:

Dear Dear Hubby,

Thanks so much for warning me when the alarm went off at 3:15 am that you'd spilled orange juice all over the kitchen floor around midnite. You did try to clean it up, bless your flu-addled brain. I am thankful for that. Much better cleaning up that than vomit. Any day.

Love,
Your sympathetic Tutz

------------------------------------------

Dear Dylan,

Thank you so much for taking the time to 'sweep' the dining room carpet with one of the vacuum cleaner tools and gathering up all of Grandma's fallen-out hair. We had quite a collection to toss out in to the front flowerbed for the birds to use in their nests, didn't we?

Making life easier for God's little creatures (and thinking maybe I better buy a wig) ,
Grandma

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Dear makers of OraJel,

After this past weekend when an impacted wisdom tooth went ballistic on my daughter, we're informing you that we're going to buy stock in your company. Lots of stock!

Never been a gambler but thinking maybe this is the jackpot,
Lucky Seven MissKris

-------------------------------------

Dear Sunshine,

It's so nice to have you back! Please hang around until everyone's done with the flu so I can get out and enjoy you!

Seriously lacking in Vitamin D,
Your biggest fan

-------------------------------------

Dear Cooper,

Thank you for learning to say, "I love you". Can't tell you what it means to have both of my grandsons saying it to me now. They're words I'll savor the rest of my life.

Love you too, Coopy.

Grandma

Privacy: the state of being free from intrusion or disturbance in one's private life or affairs: the right to privacy.

When I was a teenager there wasn't anything I valued more and protected more than my privacy. And I was blessed to have a mother and father who respected not only mine but the privacy of my three brothers as well.

When do we parents overstep those bounds? When does 'concern' become 'invasion'? I had friends...my daughter had friends...whose mothers felt it was their right to snoop thru drawers and closets, between the mattress and box springs, under beds, in pockets and purses. My mother never did that to me and I never did that to my daughter -- or my son. Some aspects of our lives really do belong to us as individuals, even when we're 10 or 15 or 18. How do we teach them to trust when we don't respect their privacy?

I was not and still am not a perfect parent. My two children are both in their early 30's now. I've made mistakes and I've admitted to them and apologized for them. But I don't think either one of them will tell you that I've ever pried in to their personal business. As teenagers, when their bedrooms became impossibly messy, I always asked and was given permission to go in and straighten things up. I never looked at anything. Seriously. My mission was to clean and that's what I did. I practiced the same respect for privacy when I cleaned people's houses, too. You shuffle papers together in a neat stack, keep your eyes averted, and set them down when you're done. Whatever is private is private. When my son got married I had a talk with my daughter-in-law and told her I would never pry, that he was hers now and I was 'handing him over'. And I meant it. And I have. He is my son but he is her husband.

I reap what I've sown, too. Do they come and talk to me, seek my advice at times? Yes. Do they sometimes confide? Yes.

I guess what I'm trying to say to some of you younger mothers who are in the middle of mothering preteens and teens is: How you treat them now is going to be the foundation your adult relationship with them is based upon. They do grow up. And if you're really blessed and lucky, they evolve into some very special friends in your life, not just your kids. You have to trust them; they need to know they can trust you.

How I spent my day off...

I try really really hard never to get too excited when I find I have an unexpected day off. Yesterday was one of those. As Dear Hubby and I were driving home from The Dalles on Saturday he asked me, "What are you going to do on your day off Monday?" I told him, "I'll figure that out when it gets here. I take it one day at a time."

You see, rarely ever does one of those days end up being 'off'. It comes with the territory of once-a-mom-always-a-mom. I spent most of the day sitting in the waiting room of an oral surgeon's office while my daughter had an impacted wisdom tooth removed. It went ballistic on her over the weekend. Mind you, it wasn't a bad day. I brought along a small sack of books. I was in the process of finishing one and brought along some extras to look thru when I finished that one to figure out what I would read next. And that's exactly what I did. And I wasn't bothered by anyone. And it was peaceful with music from my favorite radio station playing unobtrusively in the background. The television was off. The sofa I sat on was very comfortable. So...all in all...it was a day off. It couldn't have happened on a better day, really, logistics-wise. I would've had to take her no matter what because she couldn't drive after being under anesthesia so it would've been a nightmare to try and figure out the grandboys' day care and for my son or daughter-in-law to take a day off.

Sure, it would've been nice to spend it here at home alone. But once-a-mom-always-a-mom. Your 'child' hurts, you take care of them. That's just the way it is.

My life in 6 words and counting....

I don't link to many of the bloggy Monday-Sunday thingies that show up on bazillions of blogs. Every now and then I come across one and get inspired if I'm in the right mood. And then I may never do it again. Don't ask me why. That's why when my friend Betty in Paraguay asks me why I don't link, that's the basic reason. Tho I am particularly fond of "Random Dozen" that I 'lift' from her blog just about every week. But I'm lazy and at 4 am when I usually do them, I'm not too clear-headed for doing anything 'techie'. That's the time of day I usually manage to delete all of my Favorite Coffee Stops. I do that with embarrassing regularity.

So...I saw this one on her blog and I actually linked to it so she knows I'm capable of it, haha! Now, to think of 6 words that describe my life:

"A Woman with an independent mind"

Or would that be 'curious' mind? 'Hungry' mind? Maybe I ought to change it to this:

"Woman with an endlessly searching mind"

Oooooooooooooh, yeah! I like that one. Because that's me in a nutshell. Forever searching, forever seeking. Always hungry for more. I cannot learn enough.

Have you ever met college graduates who are incredibly smug and pompous? Who ask you, "And what university/college did you graduate from?" and when you say, "I never went to college," you get this rather frozen smirky smile and they look at you like they wonder what rug you crawled out from under? Oh, I've graduated, all right. I've graduated from the School of Common Sense. The University of Making Ends Meet. The University of Finding Knowledge in Books. The College of Experience. I've gotten my degree in earned wisdom. In maturity. I haven't had to spend a dime in them, either. Just blood, sweat, and tears. I don't have a diploma to hang on my wall. I don't have a bunch of alphabet letters to stick after my name. But I have the contentment of knowing I've earned what I've learned by just living my life. I'm not compartmentalized. I'm not tenured. I'm a stay-at-home-Grandma, for crying out loud.

But I wouldn't change one second of my life for theirs.

You old so-and-so.....

Dear So and So...

I am not appreciating the spam comments you're leaving me in some kind of Asian language. I am challenged enough with English at times, especially when I sit down here at the end of a busy day.

Wishing you a nice day,
MissKris

-----------------------------------------

Dear Big Gray Garbage Guy...

I'm sorry the grandboys and I haven't been running out to meet you early on Friday mornings lately. Charley the Garbage Guy told us someone in the neighborhood called and complained about you stopping at our house and letting Dylan pull the levers and making the grinders work. It must've been the new neighbors who moved in across the street. Everyone else knows and accepts my grandsons' obsession with you wonderful garbage men. "Pfffffffftttttttt" on killjoys.

Thinking people ought to mind their own business,
MissKris

---------------------

Dear Dear Hubby...

Don't tell me at 4 am in the morning that you don't have clean work clothes. I know better. They were sitting right where they should've been. All you had to do was look.

With motherly affection,
Your Tutz

----------------------

Dear Portland weather forecasters...

I know our weather is unpredictable at best here in the Pacific Northwest at this time of year, but if it's going to rain, just SAY so! Don't tease me in to thinking the rain isn't going to come until some time in the afternoon so I take the grandboys out walking and end up in a cloudburst 30 blocks from home.

Still wringing out my hair,
MissKris

(P.S. Don't be surprised when you get my grandsons' doctor bills in the mail.)

--------------------------

Dear Cupid...

I think Valentines are stupid.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.

With the luck to be married to a man for almost 36 years who loves me everyday of the year,
MissKris

--------------------------
Dear Bank...

Thank you for approving our refinancing loan.

Feeling $20,000 richer because of lower interest rates,
MissKris

-----------------------

Dear Little Brother...

I'm sorry you had to put Buddy to sleep.

With a sad heart,
Big Sister

All you need is love...

Betty says I should link to the Random Dozen but I'm too lazy and time constricted to do so when I do these at 4 in the morning. So I just snitch them from her and let it go at that:

1. Are you pleasant when you're ill, or are you a grumpy, fussy patient? I am an excellent patient, I really am. Especially in hospitals. My Mom said something to me when I was a little girl about how nurses hate complainers and when I got around to having babies not to be a wimp and cry and moan. So when I went in to have my first baby, not even a whimper escaped me. One nurse came in and stood stroking my hair at one point and told me, "Honey, it's ok to make some noise if you feel like it, you know." Nope, not me. Once an obedient child, forever an obedient child.

2. When you find out that school is canceled (due to inclement weather) what is your gut reaction? When I had kids at home it was lovely! It meant we ALL got to stay in and sleep late, in the years I was a SAHM...which were quite a few of them.

3. What is one domestic skill you wish you could improve? I'm going to say ironing. Well, mending, too. I do neither. Honestly. Dear Hubby's gotten quite proficient at sewing on buttons and mending tears in his hunting clothes.

4. Do you decorate your home for Valentine's Day? Nada. I barely get anything up for Christmas.

5. What song is on your mind today? I just got up 45 minutes ago and spent the first half hour reading my Bible. I'm not awake enough for songs yet.

6. Do you prefer contemporary movies or classic? CLASSICS!! We just watched Gary Cooper in "Sergeant York" on Saturday and it was such an excellent movie!

7. How well do you "compartmentalize" your feelings? For example, how well can you put aside a really trying moment to deal with the immediate situation which is not related to the trying moment, e.g., putting aside a tiff with your spouse in order to finish wallpapering a room. I am very good at focusing on a lot of things at once. The only thing that overwhelms me is if 3 or 4 people are talking to me at once and needing me for 3 or 4 separate things...ie. Dear Hubby and the grandboys all needing something and clamoring at me from 3 different directions.

8. What is the first thing that attracted you to your spouse? (Or if you're single, to your best friend.) His deep, piercing, mysterious dark brown eyes.

9. When was the last time your heart raced? When I woke up from a disturbing dream.

10. What are your memories of Valentine's Day at school? The year I got a BIG beautiful, frilly obviously special card some boy picked out for me and gave to me anonymously. I think I was in 4th grade. To this day I haven't figured out who gave it to me.

11. If you were going to receive candy for Valentine's Day, which would you prefer?Chocolate...preferably with caramel or nougat filling.

12. Red or pink? Red.

Yesterday is today is forever...ain't that the way it goes.

Not too long ago I came in contact on Facebook with a childhood friend. We've been emailing back and forth and it's been very interesting getting to know the man the young boy I knew has become. There are so many loose ends in our lives...friendships we lose track of, career changes, moves to different communities or even different countries. I dunno about you, but in my case I get to wondering, "If I'd only made this choice..." or "I wonder what ever happened to so-and-so..." Well, in David's case I stumbled across him when I was browsing thru my old hometown's alumni page for the town's one and only high school. When I saw his picture I thought, "Could this actually be little Davey?"...one of 6 brothers who grew up across the street from me in my childhood? So I sent him a message and sure enough, it was.

Facebook is a funny phenomenon. I have developed sort of a Love/Hate relationship with it. I love it because it has brought me in to contact with people I'd always regretted losing contact with. I hate it because, when I have it activated, it cuts in to the little bit of computer time I have on any given day and distracts me too much from other things I enjoy doing...such as blogging and trying to keep up on email. Currently it's deactivated -- I know, I know -- but once I need some information about any of my friends/family, I'll go back to it again. I wouldn't say it's addictive for me by any means but I find myself 'needing' it every now and then and that bugs me. Why, I don't know.

We never know what we'll learn about someone when we 'find' them again after decades of being away from our hometowns. I learned from David that one of his brothers who was my age died in a car accident back in the mid-80's. That was a shock. In my mind's eye his brother will always be forever 14. I learned David pursued the ministry. I learned he's recorded around 20 gospel albums and has published over 90 songs he's written and is to have a book published in the near future. I've learned that he's grown into an amazingly nice man. That he has a beautiful wife and kids and grandkids. For some reason, who he is today just suits who he was so many years ago.

You can't go back and relive the past, that's for sure. But sometimes you can go back and revisit it. Sometimes doors open that let us in and allow us to peek back at who we used to be. And sometimes that just feels good.

Well, shut my mouth!

I've never been accused of being a big mouth. But I do have a tendency to tell the truth according to the way I see it. I don't sugar coat things. I'm blunt. If you ask for my "honest opinion" you'd better be ready to hear it because it's going to be what you get. I don't say things out of intentional cruelty. I don't say things to hurt people's feelings. But the gene of moderation doesn't seem to be one that I've inherited. Then, come to think of it...it wasn't one that either of my parents possessed, either. In the household I grew up in things were black and white. There wasn't really any gray area in between. Some people admire this quality in me. Others have had a dose of it and avoid me forevermore like the plague.

And so that brings me to what I've been pondering for a while. You see, I'm not very good at bridging gaps in my life. I'm not very good at mending fences. I'm good at forgiving, yes. And because I am, I expect others to be, too. I have a hard time understanding when they don't. I have an even harder time understanding people who hold incredibly long grudges. How you can go to ask someone for forgiveness and they won't give it to you, won't even reach out to meet you halfway...won't even give you the opportunity!

I do not understand the human race.

I especially don't understand family.

But that is a whole 'nother story.

Memories from the corner of my mind...

OK, troops...I'm back.

Let's just say this has been a rather...stressful, I guess...week. No, I haven't gotten my finger back in alignment yet. Can you believe that?! For one thing, it doesn't hurt in the least tho it looks mighty peculiar. And I can type, so as long as I can do that I don't really care. The grandboys have been sick. I've been sick. I spent all of last Saturday and Sunday morning over at their house, taking care of them so my son and daughter-in-law could go to a funeral in her hometown and then have a much-needed nite away. Alone. So these last two weeks have kind of blended into each other. And then we've been doing some financial stuff that's been hanging heavy until we got word today that a very important part of the paperwork has gone thru so...unless something unexpected crops up...it's full steam ahead. I didn't realize just how anxious I was about that until I read the email late this afternoon telling us things are looking good. I wrote back and said THANK YOU for letting us know now so we can actually take a deep breath and relax a bit this weekend. I dunno about you, but I hate stuff like that.

OK. Enough about that.

Back in November I wrote this blog entry about coming in contact with a pen pal I wrote to for several years. We began writing to each other in early 1969. She was 14 - or almost 14 - and I had just turned 15. We even met when I travelled back to Minneapolis to visit a friend in 1973...she lived in Minnesota, too, not far from the Twin Cities. We wrote faithfully to each other until after my son was born in 1978...maybe even a bit longer. In a packet she sent that I received in the mail today is a copy of his birth announcement so I know it was at least until then. He was my second child and she - around the same time - had 4 of her own. We became busy (BUSY!?!) and gradually lost contact. I always regretted that. A few months back I decided on a lark to see if I could locate her on Facebook. I remembered her married name which was rather unusual so I typed it in along with "Minnesota" and what shows up but a photo of a young woman with that last name who looked like Robin had 30 years ago! Different first name, tho, but I was pretty sure Robin had a daughter with that name. So I got brave and sent a message to the young woman on Facebook and, to make a long story short, it was Robin's daughter! She said her mom didn't use the computer much but she'd contact her and get us reconnected. Which, thanks to her, we are now! In Robin's last letter to me she'd written that she still had some of the things I'd sent to her when we were kids. How trippy is that?! So in the packet I got today she sent photos and photocopies of the original items...my high school graduation announcement, mine and Dear Hubby's wedding announcement, our son's birth announcement, AND a copy of the very first letter I wrote to her. February 7, 1969...almost 41 years ago to the day!! Reading that was...surreal. How much I've changed since then...and yet how much I haven't. But as I sat there and read it...oh my, what a lifetime has happened between the time I wrote that letter and now as I sit here writing this tonite. As my daughter read it she said, "This is so weird. I've heard these stories all my life and to read this like it's happening right now is so strange!" I was a Freshman. My parents were alive. My brothers were 21, almost 18, and almost 9...they're now 62, almost 59, and almost 50. Good grief.

So what songs were really popular in Portland/Vancouver back then? Would you like to know?

1. "Crimson and Clover" by Tommy James and the Shondells

2. "Witchi Ti To" by Everything is Everything

3. "River Deep, Mountain High" by Deep Purple

4. "Apricot Brandy" by Rhinoceros (I have to admit I don't have a clue about this one!)

5. "It's All Too Much" by the Beatles

6. "Heard It Thru the Grapevine" by Marvin Gaye

7. "I'm Livin' in Shame" by Diana Ross and the Supremes

8. "You Showed Me" by the Turtles

9. "Son of a Preacher Man" by Dusty Springfield

10."Worst That Could Happen" by Brooklyn Bridge

I had just started writing to a pen pal in Germany, a boy named Peter with "long brown hair and dreamy blue eyes". Some things never change...I said I wanted to be an "authoress". Well, I'm not an "authoress" (Is there such a word?!) but I sure can pour out the drivel on here.

And on the back of the envelope I'd written:

D-liver

D-letter

D-sooner

D-better

Oy.

I was going to write an entry this morning but it took me

45 minutes to pay two bills and to get my blog page

to load.

I hate the internet.

Can you hear me, Major Tom?

Just because this week has been a humdinger so far,

I could use some encouraging news.

If you're out there -- Major Tom or anyone else --

be brave and

speak up!

The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn. ~ David Russell

If I'm not around much this week, don't be concerned.
Just got a lot of stuff going on right now
I need to focus on.

Ouch

This is what I managed to do to my middle finger on my left hand Saturday.

I was trying to scrape gum out of the carpet.

It didn't give.

My finger did.

End of story.