Seriously? Nah.

One of the ways that I tend to get through what can sometimes be described as "monotony" (not to be confused with "monogamy" or "monopoly"...just stay with me ADD friends)...is to find the humor in it.  I was born a bit of a serious little thing...with deep thoughts and tiny little feelings that tended to fall down and get hurt a lot.  Rather than withdraw from the world or my Crayola 64 megabox and a coloring book...I tended to charge ahead like a bull in a china shop.  I did cartwheels in the living room, made necklaces out of clover or lanyard lace, and set up clubs, dog shows, variety shows, and whatever else I could dream up in my little mind.  This was either considered "precocious", "adorable" or a "major annoyance" depending on the parties involved...but it was what it was.

I later learned that life had its serious moments...but they weren't much fun.  Serious moments weren't the time for antics, attention drawing, or even speaking.  Serious moments were for sitting still and not drawing all over one's church bulletin.  Serious moments were for conforming and staying out of trouble and trying to find something interesting that the teachers were teaching me that I didn't already know.  Being an early reader...I don't think there was anything new to me until something like 4th grade when math started getting real and we had to start writing up science experiments and learned how to spell words like "hypothesis."  

On the other hand, I so admired those people who thought that life was one big party yet everyone thought that it was okay.  They would dress wacky and it was considered cute.  They'd laugh and glow and make people smile and shake their heads.  In a good way, of course. I never really experienced a whole lot of that.  Unfortunately. 

For years, though, it rarely dampened my enthusiasm.  I'd get my hopes up, get excited about something...and then it wouldn't work out the way I had planned.  I'd have a good cry, regroup, and then head down another path with gusto.  Somewhere along the line, I realized that this wouldn't work for me either.  So I just melted into the background and observed.  This was primarily during my last two years of college...where I studied pretty relentlessly and ended up with great grades.  I actually enjoyed that...and so I kept it up into graduate school and left there with grades high enough to bypass the comprehensive exam.  I had also started work in a "real job" and was married...and had responsibilities and trying to build a career to do.  Being serious was actually beginning to pay off.  

For a while...

Somewhere over my lifetime...I began to realize that those who had learned to lighten up sometimes were certainly a lot more fun and had a joy about them that I certainly didn't have.  So I started lightening up as well.  Not that life doesn't have its solemn moments...it does.  But there are times when I was trying to be all formal and "doing the right thing" and was completely and totally missing it.  The joy of life, that is.

Not anymore.  At least most of the time.

Take today, for instance.  I went to the office of the Internal Revenue Service voluntarily.  Yes.  We received a check from this leviathan of governmental (in)efficiency for a tax refund from 2011.  Never mind that we already went down there and proved to these people that someone had commandeered Brian's tax refund from 2011 and changed the address from wherever it was...which was "nowhere around here" and received 2012's using the helpful code that we thought would deal with this in the future.  However, a Mensa candidate (or more likely "summer help") thought it would be an excellent idea to reissue the checks that didn't clear from 2011.  Among those was the check that was attached to the fake return that the yahoo who stole Brian's social security number filed.  Except this time?  It came to OUR address instead.

Thus this big ol' check in my hot little hand that needed to go back to its rightful owner.  Not that we couldn't use an extra $2,500 dropped from that model of efficiency that will someday soon be in charge of America's healthcare management for no reason whatsoever.

But since we are Christians, conservatives, and obsessive list-makers....I will not rest until this check gets back into the apathetic hands of someone employed by the IRS.

Being a banker and all, I figured that the likelihood of me actually being able to give this check back without Brian present was a long shot.  But I figured I'd give it a whirl anyway...just in case.  I mean...I do not want this check in my possession.  I don't want to find out that it was some big ol' conspiracy to give a family of Conservatives a check and then see if they would do the right thing or not.  After all, it isn't like they aren't reading what I'm writing right now or flying overhead to read it over my shoulder if they so choose.  At least that's what I hear.

The right thing being passing through the door at the IRS that should say "All Ye Who Enter Here Abandon Hope" right after my purse check and being wanded and partially patted down by the very nice but very efficient security guard.  I proceeded to the table that was clearly labeled with poster board instructions and dubious spelling to press the button and receive number 906.  I found a chair in the tightly packed four rows allotted for that purpose that was probably the most uncomfortable chair ever constructed and joined the huddled masses that had been there for various eras and decades before I joined them.  The television on the wall...high enough where people couldn't mess with it...was turned to CNN and the sentencing in a high-profile kidnapping case being carried out.  Every so often, a little bell would ring and a random number would flash up like "574."  

Yes.  In order for you to not get your hopes up...they just put random numbers out there so you won't know who was next and how many more years you have to sit there until someone flashes your number and you get to skitter away to a cubicle like you are being called to a feast or for some absolution.

We sat there listening to the television, and I did smile a lot as there was a running commentary about the perpetrator of heinous acts who was trying to explain his actions to garner some sympathy from captive audiences like ours everywhere.  Except this group wasn't buying ANY of it.  Which gave me hope for the future of America, y'all.

Eventually, as I was sitting there deciding whether getting up and moving to another chair might end its reign of terror over my right thigh, one of the ladies behind me providing the interesting commentary said, "That's you."

And so it was.

I opened the door with another posterboard direction to "pull right" on the cubicle handle to find a lady totally enthralled with a package of cheese crackers, bless her heart.  I hated to break that up...but I hated even more actually staying there a moment longer than was absolutely necessary.  Because it is my humble opinion that time just stands still in that office.  What feels like an hour and three decades is in reality...fifteen minutes.  

So not kidding.  I was there for 30 minutes...which meant that I felt that I looked like Granny Clampett when I left.  With the lovely addition of a thigh bruise, of course.

Anyway, she informed me that I could do what I wanted with that check (other than cash it) but that she couldn't look up jack squat without Brian's permission.  My protestations including offering to show her my stretch marks and my empty bank account...which I clearly thought was sufficient evidence that I was his mother...but that mattered not to her.

Cheese cracker loving heifer.

Anyway, I still have the check.  And I only aged twenty years in thirty minutes apparently jumping ahead of others because I had a "simple question" on the list that I scrolled down when they assigned numbers.  Not bad....considering.

I left numerous people sitting there for reasons known only to them.  I cannot believe that there are that many people who received bogus checks or who needed help doing their taxes in August.  But then again, they may have been there from March for all I knew.

Now, I had two choices today...laugh about it...or be furious that I still have this check.  I opt for what's behind Door #1.  Because, honestly, it wasn't as bad as all that.  Except, of course, for this bruise on my leg from the chair.  And that will pass soon enough.

When you have husbands, dogs, children, or neighbors, it is always good to keep a sense of humor.  Because their job in life is apparently to keep you grounded.  And rolling with laughter, of course. Which really beats being all serious about everything like we first children are prone to do

I've also found that humor is helpful when you are dealing with disappointments of various kinds.  From coping with a trying situation to wanting to beat somebody about the face for whipping into the last conceivable parking spot on the AUM campus as I was there to try to sell back three of Brian's books that Amazon was not interested in.  At least I sold one of them and received $41.50 for my trouble.  Plus, I really needed that mile and a half walk anyway.

In a week, I'm going to need to really focus on lightening up as my little guy is leaving the nest for the wilds of Huntsville.  He will have his own address and Big Dave and I will again have the opportunity to walk around the house in our underwear and scare the dogs.  

Laugh, people, any chance you get.  Life is serious enough without devising ways to make it more stressful.  It is a series of appointments that are meant to teach us something or get us from point A to point B.  Even today, as I consider a day of housecleaning in beautiful weather (which really ought to be illegal...but since I'm tied up for the next three weekends...there is no choice in this matter) and braving some errands with every parent of school-age children out and about looking for a way to maximize their back-to-school dollars out there too.  I'll just wear my tennis shoes expecting to walk, and make sure my phone is charged so I can play "Words with Friends" while I stand in whatever line for whatever I feel I need...if it can't be avoided.

Might as well laugh about it.  It beats getting into a verbal altercation with some woman with some serious attitude and six kids over who was in line first.  Bless her heart.  After all, I'm about to send my last kid off in a week.  She probably hasn't been to the bathroom by herself since 2002.

Have a wonderful day...keep your head up...and just let it down today.  Don't stress and laugh as much as you can.  It sure beats the alternative.

Just a Summer Day in July

As I am writing this, I am sitting out in my backyard under a patio umbrella that has clearly seen better days if the lichens at the bottom and the scary remnants of wasp nests past are any indication.  It is in mid-July and the sun is beating down ferociously over our little corner of the world in the thriving metropolis of Pike Road, Alabama.  Yes, it is hot.  And yes, there's a pool within ten feet of where I am sitting at this point in time.  I'm watching my niece and nephew, ages 6 and 7, respectively, jump off of the diving board playing some game that they have concocted as kids that age are prone to do.  Both are swimming in their underwear...not because they don't have perfectly cute bathing suits...but because they CAN swim in their underwear and nobody cares.

I know I don't.

My folks are in the air conditioning that we pay Alabama Power excellent money for this time of year, and we are most grateful for it when we open the door to let one of the four shih tzus who are currently residing under this roof in or out.

Or in.  Or out.

Because heaven only knows why - if given the choice - any dog in his right mind would choose to be out here.  Other than the obvious reasons.  And in Riley's case...he doesn't always have a clue what obvious reason of which I speak.  Bless his heart.  Yet, here they are.  Panting, staring at me, and occasionally licking my leg on the way by just so I'll remember they are out here.

The niece and nephew are excellent swimmers...something that I completely credit my little sister for seeing to as well as the fact that my niece, Tara, is part fish.  She knows no fear...she just jumps right in.  They dive to the bottom of the pool - which I can imagine is cool and refreshing...but is probably in reality like a giant lukewarm bathtub...pulling up rings that they toss in there for what appears to be the billionth time.  I just have to remember to hose them down with sunscreen every hour.  Half the time, they request it without my prompting them.

Again, well done, little sister.

I remember the days when Linda and I would go to Florida in the summers on the way to St. Augustine for a family reunion or gathering, and we'd stop at Uncle Jimmy's and Aunt Lorraine's along the way in Lake City.  Uncle Jimmy ran the local Taste-E-Freeze...which later morphed into something else.  They had a pool that our cousins, Ann and Kay had long since "gotten over" but we enjoyed immensely.  We'd spend all day in there...only coming out to eat or to watch "Little House on the Prairie" in its first season on TV.

Yeah, it's been awhile.

I remember trying to do flips when I dared get my ears wet...something that I spent about half of my childhood trying to avoid.  I had so many ear infections that it was just easier to stay above the water.  But some years, I seemed to be fine...and so I just swam to my heart's content in that pool from early in the morning until they dragged us out all waterlogged.  It was probably because of those memories that I insisted that we put a pool in our backyard...although as is typical with people that own pools...nobody uses it as much as they should.  So, I enjoy sitting here watching these two paddle around chirping in high pitched voices and splashing Dixie whenever she comes by the pool.  They aren't being mean, by the way, Dixie loves water...unless she's about to get a bath.  Then?  Not so much.

The breeze out here is just enough to keep it tolerable, and the sky is a beautiful azure blue with white puffy clouds that have gray accents on the bottom.  The kind of clouds that tell you that it is going to rain at least for a little while sometime within the next 24 hours.  An airplane is going by and I can hear it crossing the sky, and instinctively I looked up as if it was going to have a banner behind it advertising 2 for 1 crab claws somewhere.

Which sounds really good, by the way, but whatever.

My two dogs are out here and are checking out the scene and then finding a cool spot somewhere to lie down in case I get all crazy and decide not to let them in.  If Dixie gets enough of the heat, she'll just hop in on the first step and lie down for a bit to cool off her belly and lap up some water.  Because if anyone is in the pool...Dixie is watching like a canine David Hasselhoff.

Without the tan and the abdominal muscles.

In a few minutes, I'll get my temperature up high enough where I'll need to cool my body more than just rolling up my pants legs and hiding under this umbrella can do.  In fact, I'm pretty close to that now.  I think I've lost about five pounds just sitting here "glistening" and drinking water furiously.  Which, honestly, isn't the worst thing that could happen to me today.

Or ever.

In a few minutes, I'll go inside and offer them some sweet tea and turn on the dreaded Disney Channel.  In fact, we'll be watching something called "Teen Beach Movie" tonight at 7:00 because that's all they've been talking about for weeks.  I have it DVR'd in case we accidentally get involved in a fierce game of Yatzhee or something.

Today has been a good day.  Just one where I've sat here and watched the world go by and had a few minutes to do some things that needed to be done...like paying the American Express bill online and finding out what Physics III covers so I can tell Brian.  By the way, the answer is "Quantum Physics" whatever that is.

He'll be taking Biology even though he's already survived Physics I and II.  I see the word "quantum" and automatically think of Scott Bakula.  I didn't know what it meant then...and I don't know what it means now.  Which is just as well, I suppose.

I hope that everyone reading this has a day when you are greeted by precious children and "Shih-Tzu-pallooza" like I have been today.  The folks have their two shih tzus here along with mine...and the kids spent an hour just taking pictures of them in various poses with my phone.  Yes, I have about 883 photos of dogs to sort through.

Yay me.

On to go back inside before I spontaneously combust.  Or is it comburst?  Whatever.  The A/C is calling me.  As is the watermelon that I know is in that refrigerator.

Simplicity and Discipline

Every once in awhile I find myself longing for simplicity.  Just living my life with everything in its place, things somewhat mapped out, and with time to be able to stop and smell the roses so to speak.  Lately, I have been all kinds of complicated...with almost area of my life in some kind of disarray.  I don't mean SERIOUS disarray like those who are dealing with life or death issues or where law enforcement is involved.  I mean...just when I think I get something figured out...I apparently press "2" for Spanish and I know not what in the world is going on.  Figuratively speaking, of course.

I don't talk about work much as a general rule...and I'm not going to break that rule now...other than to say that where I work was recently merged with another bank.  There's all sorts of wonderful things about this...such as continued employment...but it takes time to figure out exactly what your new reality is going to look like.  A task that would be far simpler if I could pull it together in at least a few other areas of my life.

I won't delve into a whine-a-thon over what isn't perfect because relatively speaking...it's all good.  I have (way more than) enough to eat, the bills are paid, and I get to do a lot of things that I want to do on top of having my needs met.  My children are great, my husband is wonderful, and my family is amazing.  I have my dog nearly housebroken (other than an unfortunate incident or three this past weekend which was - naturally - discovered by my mother, bless her heart) and the other one may or not be knocked up.  If she isn't...that's good...and if she is...well, that's fine too.  I'm sure I can find a great home for some shih tzu puppies...and it will give me something to do after Brian blows out of here in three weeks and leaves this nest empty.

Of course, the prospect of having an empty nest right now has its upside.  I mean, our living room has an extra couch and big chair sitting all up in there in addition to the furniture that normally is there.  It looks like the Island of Misfit Furniture, truth be told.  I also have extra furniture in my bedroom taking up space because prior to it we actually had space in there and thought we could bypass the whole storage facility thing.  Yeah, we managed that...but space?  No longer.

I won't even go into detail about the garage...other than to say that it is full of c-rap from various purgings of furniture and what-not from family, friends, and Big Dave's clients, plus what is normally in a garage that also serves as a storage facility for paint cans, brushes, extra pieces of sheetrock, and  the webs of a thousand spiders past and present.  Oh, and the cat.  Occasionally a wayward opossum or bird also joins the menagerie.

One of these days we're going to clear through that and convert that space to something useful like, I don't know...a GARAGE maybe?  Yeah, that would be nice.  But married to a handyman?  I'm not holding my breath.  There's no telling what he'll come home with that was given to him because he thought we might find a place for it and it was about to be hauled out to the curb.

In addition to the washer and dryer from a condo unit that don't work...we also have a fountain in our backyard that is beautiful and actually works, but it is just sitting out there about a foot deep of water (which has now turned a putrid shade of green) after the monsoon rain of the past two weeks.  Why it is out there where it is just hanging out by the pool out kind of in the middle of everything, I have no idea.  On the bright side...at least it isn't in the garage.

We have the driveway undone (and in desperate need of gravel)...but until it is impossible to reach our house because one of the ruts swallows up a car or something...it'll probably ride another six months.

Or six years.

On the money front...we are about as low on funds as we've been in about three years.  Not that Big Dave isn't working a lot...but that we've encountered some expenses and upgrades that were a wee bit unexpected.  That's on top of the expected expenses that Brian will be needing taken care of in three weeks.

Oy.

Then there's the whole I've gotten out of control with the eating again and I'm afraid I'm going to have to go back to rehab.  I mean, Weight Watchers isn't really that bad...but I just don't know if I can take another stint there.  Maybe I'll try online this time.

Or maybe I'll just try something that I've heard about called "discipline."

For the past several weeks, I've been noticing the kid across the street work in his driveway on footwork, or running around the neighborhood.  When other kids are whining that they are bored...he's outside playing music with some serious bass and doing something remotely productive with his time.  He's a good kid...wears shorts that fit...and I haven't heard any words like "ho" coming out over the music he's playing while he works out.  So, I'm afraid I spend time looking outside to see what he's up to (shades of Mrs. Kravitz not Mrs. Robinson...trust me) and being impressed that he's well acquainted with my long lost friend Mr. Discipline.

When you are disciplined, you have your eyes or sights on a goal and you work toward it.  You don't accept "no" for an answer and you certainly don't let anything lame get you down.  You laugh when you're told "it's impossible" and you live for the opportunity to get just a little bit better every day. The odd thing is...about three weeks into it...it becomes comfortable and encouraging and nice.  It gives you more incentive to be a better version of yourself...and so you are.  You move forward and others start to notice that little light in you that is shining called "self confidence."  You inspire others with that light and it ignites some of those who see it and want some of that for themselves.  When you are all lit up like that...you can do more for yourself, for others, for Jesus, for the general good, than you ever can while you are planning but not executing your plan...or eating the brownie bites instead of passing on them and just going to bed.  You'll make your financial goals because nothing is worth losing the feeling of control of your destiny, so to speak, in the ways that you can control...such as how much you spend and what you spend it on.

I need more discipline.

Way more.

I think that everything in my life that is out of control is because I've lost the joy of routine, of planning and executing, and of expecting the best of myself.  Every so often, it is okay to go through a season of serving others, or tuning out of responsibilities, or even of doing exactly what you want to do.  But as a long term strategy?  No.  Just no.

I don't know if I'll be as good as the neighbor kid and will get myself into the gym every day...but I will be trying to get through some of the other things in a more disciplined manner.  I'd like to try to add one thing each day and work through it and then move on to the next.  It may take a month to do some of this...or a year to do others...but if I just start somewhere...at least I'll be on the path.

Because I'm kind of at one of those points in the road of life where one direction takes you where you want to go, but it isn't going to be fun, easy, or even terribly scenic for awhile, but then it will eventually open up to a scene that is so breathtaking that you can hardly believe your good fortune.  The other is fun and laid-back and easy...but it never really gets any better.

I've been walking down the second road...I'm ready to walk the first.

Even if it means that discipline is involved.

Especially since my baby is flying the nest in three short weeks for the wilds of Huntsville.  It's time...but it still makes me realize that I need to be focused on something...and I'm not entirely sure that "something" is going to be a litter of shih tzus.  As awesome as that sounds.

And you never know...it might actually be fun.

Yeah, no.

But I do know this...life is more simple when you are disciplined.  You don't have to waste time thinking about what you'll have for dinner because the answer is "chicken and steamed vegetables" or "salad."  You don't have to wonder what you'll do after work because the answer is "the gym."  You don't have to entertain the thought of a shopping trip for fun because the answer to the budget-conscious is "no."  See?  Easier.

So, perhaps my desire for wanting simplicity is really a desire for a more disciplined life.  The two seem to go hand in hand.  And the God of order who created us left a whisper of that in each of us...even my son who would rather take paper plates off to college so he doesn't have to do dishes.

I'm so serious.

On Prancing

Yesterday, I spent about half an hour watching some new (but clearly not really new since it has been around since the 1990s) phenomenon known as "Prancercise."  The lady in the video is clearly in shape...but it almost appears that she is in shape because of other blessings of life...like the existence of a metabolism...and some other choices that she has made (vegetarian).  Watching her, though, sporting her ankle weights and moving in a manner that can only be described as "OMG" - as she was obviously in a public place (with a bad sidewalk...but I digress...) and it made me wonder about her mental stability more than a little bit.  I'm sure in person that she is a lovely person...but somehow that loveliness is drowned out by the more than a hefty dose of cray-cray that screams most urgently.

It made me think, though...who am I to judge?

I am sitting here horrendously overweight by the world's standards (as well as my own, the medical community, the weight loss industry, people that care about me and pretty much anyone drawing breath) but I prance through life acting like this is no big deal.  And from the perspective of who I am as a person...it isn't a big deal at all.  I tend not to notice the outside as much as I see the inside of a person...and then when I do...I can almost always find something about them that is far more attractive than weight.  Like a beautiful spirit.  Mischievous eyes.  The ability to cook, clean, craft, organize, sing, do something amazing, or minister. A hilarious slant on life.  A joyful heart.  A grateful outlook.  Loving service.  See?  None of that requires that you be anything other than what you are.

I realize that the rest of the world is numbed to see the glitz and glamour of celebrity and want to capture some of that for themselves.  But when you see that those who have survived killing themselves through excess at an early age begin to decline, or slip into obscurity...you realize that it really is an illusion.  We forget that we make them who they are by our attention, our attendance, and our dollars that purchase their products.  I have decided over the past year or so to quit supporting projects of people who are so clearly at odds with my beliefs.  I'll give them a little rope...but dang if I'm going to tolerate Jamie Foxx wearing a Trayvon Martin tee shirt at a recent awards show and then pay money to go see "White House Down."  Even if Channing Tatum is in it.  And that says a lot.

A whole lot.

I have given up on a lot of companies and actors for being ridiculous.  And since they found it necessary to drop Paula Deen and boycott Chick-fil-A...I'm continuing to not vote for these people with my dollars.  I think that some of them are starting to figure it out.  I have no problem with people disagreeing with me politically.  I have a huge problem with them using their celebrity to do so.  Want to use it to bring awareness to autism?  Fine.  But to a manufactured "War on Women?"  Heck to the no.

For years, I had more of a "live and let live" attitude toward those I disagree with...and we'd just avoid certain subjects so we could get along.  But now?  I'm real clear on what I believe.  I am not going to back down from telling the truth just so people will like me anymore.  And if they choose to be exasperated...then that's their choice.

For example, the recent legislation in Texas banning late term abortions makes perfect sense to me in my world view as a conservative Christian.  I have friends who are liberal and others who are somewhere in between.  But this is something that I am not going to just sit by and try to understand.  Because in my opinion, there's nothing TO understand.  You're either for late term abortions or you're not.  Obviously, I'm not.  And I think that there's something seriously wrong with anyone who is.  I really do.

About other things...gay marriage (in favor of civil unions, not in favor of calling it marriage), shacking up (not in favor but what you do in your bedroom is none of my business), drinking (moderation is fine...wrecking your family's life is not), drug use (No. Just no.) and immigration (enforce the laws we already have)...I'm not so vehemently opposed.  But late term abortions?  Sorry.  No room to tolerate any discussion on this subject whatsoever.

But enough about my political views on a vacation day in the middle of July.  I have a house to get together, a dog to get to the groomer, and boxes to get into the attic because Big Dave Houdini-ed out of that one.  Again.  And he forgot to take the trash to the street yesterday when we have company this weekend.  *sigh*  Love him anyway...but I seriously need to start pinning notes to his shirt.

Again.

Where I am going with all of this, I suppose, is that I think all of us have the capacity to judge something that we don't understand...but on some subjects we are willing to be challenged.  I mean...I don't understand the Prancercise lady's obsession with "prancing" and whatever she is doing with her arms...but I also haven't read her book.  People who see me as an overweight middle-aged woman probably think that I'm completely undisciplined or that I have some serious issues I need to work through...because who can get this big without a few hundred "Danger, Will Robinson!" signs in her life or people who tried to slow it down?  And I answer that by saying that this is a combination of two forces: a love of eating and food as a drug of choice.  Except when food is the drug of choice...there's really no rehab for it...as often as I've called Weight Watchers just that.    I mean...you still have to eat to live.  Even while you are trying not to live to eat.

As little as I like being judged...I am human and I make generalizations quickly.  I notice someone's age, hair color, gender, race, ethnic background, lifestyle choices, political and religious leanings and manner of speaking and I run that through my head as I try to figure out if I have anything in common with someone or not.  There are people that I give a lot of latitude to because I know their heart...and I respect their intelligence and accomplishments.  But there are others that I give a slim margin of error to dance around and as little time as possible because we're going to disagree almost all of the time over everything.

I've found that I learn the most from my response to those that I have very little in common with far more than I do from people who are almost exactly like me.  And yet, the older I get, the more I realize the wisdom of standing my ground and not being swayed or influenced by people with a different belief system than I have in matters of importance.  Like late-term abortions, for example.

I suppose today I'll be back roaming the aisles of Publix and Costco and people will look at me and wonder to themselves if I'm aware that I am overweight.  Wonder if I need what is in my cart or if I have nobody in my life who will tell me the truth about myself.  The answer to those questions is yes, no and yes.  But the people  who love me are hoarse from trying to change my mind...and have finally started seeing me for me and loving me in spite of it.   I'm very grateful for that.

In the coming weeks, I'm going to make another attempt to get back on track and quit making it so incredibly difficult on myself.  Who knows?  I might even take up Prancercise in earnest.  Okay...yeah...no.  But whatever I do...I know that there are those who see me for who I am and only want the best for me.  Who know that this weight is more than just a love of food...it is a conglomeration of baggage, bad choices, and a protective shell.  It is a spiritual battle as much as a physical or emotional one.  A battle that I've been way too tired to fight alone...and too proud to ask for help.  But one I know that can be won because Philippians 4:13 tells me so.  For me, I know that II Timothy 1:7 is also at work...but that in my case it is all in the timing.

And, of course, apparently the prancing.  But mostly the timing.  And that time is near.

Have a wonderful day and love yourself for who you are.  Might as well, right?

Wisdom from Greg the Miracle Worker

After work yesterday, I was sitting in the chair of Greg the Miracle Worker trying to explain to him that I needed my hair to look a little less Tommy Shaw in 1976 but not much shorter when he ran through the standard questions he asks me on my appointment..."How are the kids?  Did Jill get moved?  When are you moving your son?" which amazes me every time I go there since he is generally a man of few words.  He just somehow miraculously remembers certain details in between our visits every six or seven weeks...and I don't think it's because he writes them down.

He prompts me to get me to break the awkward silence that naturally occurs with me between 5:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. as I shift gears between work and home.  A silence that I'd grown accustomed to during the 25 minute commute home or the hour doing cardio at the gym.  A time when I quit thinking about what I didn't get done - or even what I did - and start thinking about everything else that needs to be done. I answered him and then asked about his own move...where he was downsizing from the equivalent of a large ranch home to a garden home by choice.  He's just tired of keeping up the yard and found the perfect home in the exact area he wanted and so he went ahead and bought it.  Makes sense to me.

He told me that he was downsizing things and that he'd had some success putting some things in estate sales because he tended not to hold on to things that he didn't use. He loves beautiful things, he said, but he draws the line at giving them a significance more than they deserve.  He looks for comfort and things that make him happy around him...and beyond that he couldn't care less where he got it or how long he's had it.   Even if they were things that he loved or had belonged to someone he loved.  He just believed that items were meant to be used.  Not saved for a rainy day.  Not hoarded.  But moved along if they didn't have a true purpose to employ.  That's Greg's rule #1 by the way.

Which, of course, got me to thinking about my wedding china, some items that are in the attic because I don't know what to do with them, and some family things that really have no significance to me, but were passed down to me when my grandmother's house was closed and sold.  I don't have a storage building...primarily because I live in "Hoarders-ville" right now as we await Brian's departure to Huntsville next month and are still not sure how we'll convert both his and Jill's old rooms once he leaves.  We're in a holding pattern that we're attempting to work around some big pieces that need to either stay or go and we are desperately trying to figure out what will make sense in our new reality.

But, on the other hand, I am very aware that our house tends to be the "Hotel California" of furniture.  Every piece that we have acquired generally ends up staying.  Occasionally, we will purge it by finding a purpose for it.  Sadly, of late, some of that furniture has come home to roost.  So, here's Greg's rule #2...if it is given away and comes back to you...sell it.

I'm looking around right now and I see something I purchased at Williams-Sonoma...a cake stand and a bell shaped glass cover that were sold together on the clearance table...but with further inspection totally do not belong together that has never been used.  I have a pewter dish and a galvanized steel bucket (from a storage building)as well as three cabinets full of items that I use - at most - once a year.  I have pillows from my old comforter set stacked up in a chair that is more in the way than it is anything else.  And I wonder why I can just keep walking by it without throwing it in a bag and driving it over to Goodwill.  It isn't like I don't know the way and like it is inconvenient.  Here in Montgomery, we have a Goodwill drive-thru.  I kid you not.

I think back to simpler times in my life when I had less stuff and more time.  I enjoyed and employed the things I had instead of dusting and rolling my eyes at some of the things that constantly require me to deal with them.  I'm not saying that I want it all to go away...because I know that would be devastating on many levels.  What I'm saying is...Greg's rule #3 makes far more sense to me than anything else.

And that rule is...once you sell it...put the proceeds in your retirement account.

Yes.

Having been a a part of "The Great House Purge of 2006"...I can tell you that there is something supremely sad about seeing what might have been as a great item is beyond repair or in such poor condition that there is only one option...the dumpster.  Of seeing books that have long outlived their usefulness sit on shelves unread and brittle.  Of wondering where this or that came from...when the answer was probably a dime store half a century ago.

Just saying.

So, this Fall, the project will be to go room by room and find those items that are not living up to the standards.  To give away or sell what I no longer need.  To do it not only for myself...but for my kids. Because there's nothing worse than cleaning out someone's house of minutiae when they are gone.  Except the regret that accompanies realizing that there were items there that you could have been using all along but went out and bought for yourself because you didn't know.

I am not suggesting that you give away things that matter to you or things that you use.  What I'm saying is that if you have items of value that are just taking up space...that maybe now is the time that you rethink that strategy.  Every second of our lives is important.  If you are spending a lot of your time dusting the brass dogs that sit on your bookshelf or moving the same items around in your garage...you are wasting time trying to maintain something that needs to move along.

If you aren't using it, why are you dusting it?  If you aren't driving it, why is it in your garage?  If you aren't wearing it, why is it hanging in your closet?  If you don't love it, why is it in your home?  (Teenagers excluded from this for obvious reasons.)

I hope that in eight weeks when I go back to be "reblonded"...I'll be able to tell Greg the Miracle Worker that I've made some progress.  That I've gotten some items cleaned out and moved along.  Granted, I probably will do that anyway...seeing as Brian moves before my next appointment.  But this is a deeper and very important realization to me.  Because I believe that the way I manage what I already have gives God a very good indication of how I'd handle any future blessings.  And in His infinite wisdom...if I am holding on, maintaining and treating what I already have as a burden...why in the world would he want to give me anything more?  Even something that I'd love a whole lot more than I treasure some of what I have.

That whole releasing the fake pearls to get a real string kind of thing.

Today I am trying to get my house ready for people to see it this weekend.  Riley is not helping me...in that he has suddenly decided to NOT be potty trained at the least convenient moment possible.  But I'll work through that and will keep him because he is worth the trouble.  The set of china that I have used exactly ten times since 1985?  Not so much.

I hope that you'll look at your situation and either get busy selling it, yard sale-ing it, or giving it away.  That you'll quit putting off the inevitable because you cannot deal with either letting it go or the effort you'll have to expend to get it out of your life.  I was reminded yesterday of the proper perspective for "things."  They are lovely and make our lives easier...and may even remind us of someone who owned it first...but they are things.  If you are going to spend a lot of time maintaining something...make it your relationships instead.

Just my thoughts.  And of course, Greg the Miracle Worker's.

Points of Reference

There comes a time in everyone's life when one looks around and goes "DANG! What do you mean you don't have a point of reference regarding this?"  Wait, no?  You don't know what I'm talking about with that whole "point of reference" business?  Let me try to be a little clearer.  What I'm talking about is that time in life when you look around you and begin to understand that the younger generation(s) has/have not a clue of which you speak.

In other words...you're an adult (gasp!).

I realized it several years ago when someone in the entertainment world that I grew up watching on television would pass on and I'd be sad...only to realize that my kids had no clue who I was talking about.  But in a world where things move quicker than a Kardashian changes "significant others"...this runs around a whole lot quicker than I had previously imagined.  And while I'm on that subject, will someone of the younger generation please explain to me exactly why anyone gives a Kardashian's IQ (the only thing I could think of smaller than a "rat's behind") about this particular group of people anyway.  Bruce Jenner and the Olympic thing?  Fine.  I get that.  I watched him win the medal.  But this generation knows him as the Kardashians' stepfather.  I mean...seriously.  I'm sure that the "Ks" are very nice - albeit extremely shallow and materialistic people - but what exactly do they do that is so amazing that everyone hangs on their every movement?  I honestly don't see it.

Plus Kanye's "baby Mama"?  No.  Just no.  And then name her "North"? North West (*sigh*).

But back to my topic...the other day, one of Jill's friends was lamenting that the younger generation has no idea about AOL "instant messenger" in a world of cell phones, texting, and Twitter.  Bless their hearts, they are starting to have point of reference issues at age 23.  I was in my 30's before that happened.  For reals.

Every year, some group with apparently nothing better to do but make me feel old puts out a list of the points of reference that the most recent graduating class knows not of.  Things that seem like they just happened a couple of years ago (like my graduation)...but now that I look back...totally happened a quarter of a century or more ago.  Sometimes I forget that I have a whole half century under my belt.

Last week, on our trek to Huntsville to find somewhere for him to live that is not under my roof (sad, sad day), Brian made me feel bad when I told him that I knew the route to Birmingham well because I had an old boss (aka "The Wicked Witch of the North" who had a mole that I imagined was a wart on her chin so it wasn't that much of a stretch) who made me drive up there (90 miles each way) every Monday for a staff meeting so she could have some "face time" or whatever we called it then.  I still haven't quite gotten over the fact that she took up 20% of my workweek so that I could tell her how I was planning to spend the other 80%.  I still made my goals in spite of her.  Not that we didn't have that miraculous invention called "the telephone" that could have handled that just as well.

But I digress...because, of course, I do...

That's when he told me that my recollections were almost twenty years old.

Brat.

Okay, FINE, he was right.  I wore that road out in 1994.  He was two at the time.  Whatever.  Funny thing, though, I can still remember how much I hated driving up there every Monday and spending the day with "the mole."  Surely, there should be a statute of limitations on this kind of thing.

Here's another one that happened within the past week..I heard that the movie "World War Z" was written by Max Brooks...son of Mel Brooks.  I thought it was cool...until I realized that the kids watching this movie have no idea who Mel Brooks was.  Or that Max Brooks' mother - Anne Bancroft - was Mrs. Robinson in "The Graduate."

See?  Exactly.

I suppose I benefited from living in a home where entertainers were watched and celebrated and it was multi-generational.  So, I learned who people were from my grandmother's generation, and my mother's, and of course...my own.  I also had an immense love of reading biographies...that started when I was a child and continues today.  I'm interested in the experiences that other people have had, the shenanigans that they have gotten into or been extricated from...and what fabulous or just ordinary things that set them apart.  Things like...J.P. Morgan (a banker from the early 20th century...) grew Easter lilies...or that a guy I used to work with was the Duncan yo-yo champion for the state of Texas one year.

Come on...that last one is pretty cool.

Sometimes I feel bad that I didn't do a better job of exposing my children to culture...and insisting that they know more about history than they do.  Part of it is...neither of them really have a curiosity about people that way...and so they've found their own areas of interest.  Things like the differences in cars and what is cool about each make and model (something she has picked up working at Enterprise) and physics (something that Brian finds comes naturally to him) that sounds more like aerobics than science to me, but whatever.

While I may not have taken them to every play within a 90 mile radius (something that my mother would have highly approved of because that's HER thing)...I did insist that they know what decent music sounds like by exposing them to the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd, AC/DC, Def Leppard, Creed, Collective Soul, and Talking Heads...just to name a few.  Not that it did a whole lot of good...Jill likes Country and Contemporary Christian...but every so often I'll hear her listening to 90s alternative...and I know some of it got through.  Brian is all over the map musically...but since he remembers songs if he's ever heard them once...I call him "human jukebox."  He turns on Foo Fighters while I'm in the car...and we have the best time just singing and riding around together.

Okay, I have fun.  Hopefully he does.  Maybe he is laughing at me rather than with me...hmmm.....

The older I get, the more I realize that some of what I know will become more and more useless as time goes by.  That I can remember the lyrics to songs by The Eagles or Elton John because I listened to them ad nauseum while I was in junior high when I was young and impressionable.  I probably could sing everything on the Grease soundtrack, too.  That ability has failed me when I started listening to music again in my 40's and was enjoying Linkin Park and Foo Fighters.  I know a lot of the words...but not all of them.

Sad, but true.  Doesn't mean I don't sing my heart out just the same.  Kind of like this...

My kids don't know who Johnny Carson was, don't remember much about 9/11, and weren't alive when Challenger went down.  They don't remember Clinton as President (so thankfully I didn't have to 'splain anything) and they don't remember when MTV played music.  They get annoyed when I call something by its previous name...because they don't understand why I find that strangely comforting.  The Dillard's Department store in town has been here for many years...but I still call it Gayfers because that's what it was when I moved here.  Big Dave and I had a friend who used to call Gayfers "Montgomery Fair" - what it was known as prior to that...so I know I'm not alone in this.

In a few years, I'll probably be even less in touch with what is going on than I am now.  That someday I'll abandon learning the latest technology and I'll quit wasting time doing things I'm not particularly good at or following that about which I care not.

It is already starting with the music.  I don't know the names of many of the new bands or singers.  I haven't gotten too into shows like American Idol or The Voice.  Frankly, I just don't have time.  But every once in awhile I'll glom onto something and get obsessive about it (like, um, Channing Tatum.  Because yes.  Just yes.)


Here he is with his WIFE (Jenna Dewan Tatum) and his baby girl before she got here.  (I wanted to put a picture of his family, because it grosses me out to read some of the comments that young girls write on his Facebook page whenever he posts anything.  He's married.  He's someone's Dad.  Get over it.)  But still.  He's pretty, yes?  Yes, he is.  And he's from Alabama.

Okay, FINE, here's another picture.


Better?  Yes.

Anyway, the whole point of reference thing is probably responsible for a lot of the angst of getting older.  My grandmother used to love Jerry Clower records.

Me?  Not so much.

But then again...kids like stuff that I honestly don't get...so I suppose we're kind of sort of even.

Like this...

Yeah.  "Thrift Store".  Yo.


Anyway, I love the fact that we all have some things in common that seem to never change...

Our religious traditions.

Flowers will normally make people smile.

Chocolates on your pillow make you feel special.

That a hug from your kids will melt your heart.

Channing Tatum (trust me...Mom, me, Jill...are all thumbs up).

Excitement during football season.

The beach...at almost any time.

Ice cream.  Particularly homemade peach.

Getting a handwritten note from someone.

Finding unexpected cash in your pocket.

Puppies.

The song "Sweet Home Alabama."


I'm sure that there are many more...but it gives me comfort to know that there are some things that I know haven't gone out of style or are obsolete.  That I can pass down my love of something like a golden thread to the next generation who will likely do the same.

And so on.

So, the next time that you hear a song on the radio and you don't know (or couldn't care less) who is singing...let that go.  It's really okay.  Our kids have no idea who Perry Como is...so we're even.

Pretty much, anyway.  Bless their Rihanna-loving little hearts.  Because watch this and answer for me what is going on in this video, why her nails look like they do, and why her hair looks like it does.  I have no point of reference...

But that's really, really okay.  I have enough to explain with ZZ Top.

Yeah, well, whatever.

Vacation Week Wrapup

Holy cow, another "up and at 'em" at 4:00 a.m.  This means that the streak of getting up before I should has remained perfect during my week of vacation.  Seriously, there should be a law against this.

Last night, I had the bright idea of taking a "water pill" before bed because I'd forgotten to take it earlier in the day and between the ridiculous amount of salt I consumed at the shower yesterday (Fritos, cucumber sandwiches, spinach dip, cheese straws and sausage balls) and the Coke Zero that I purchased in line at T.J. Maxx (yes, another return) because I thought I might perish in that line before I got another drop of liquid...made me feel a lot like Violet in "Willie Wonka" minus the purple.



Back to that "in the line" comment...I have to give a "well played" to T.J. Maxx for figuring out that herding people in a snaking line that looks like pre-teens lined up for a Justin Bieber concert, moving at the pace of a Friday afternoon at work, and then putting a refrigerator full of soft drinks at the point where you think that you might not make it to the register but you can't fight your way back out of the line because there are 2,000 people in various states of frustration...was pure marketing genius.  I only waited in line for eight minutes, but that little burst of liquid anything combined with a small jolt of caffeine kept me from wanting to be a tee-total whatever to the unfortunate soul clerking that day when I eventually made it to the counter.  Naturally, I was destined to be waited on by a lady who was obviously angry that she had to work at T.J. Maxx on a beautiful (albeit humid as all get-out) Saturday because her disdain for me was fairly apparent.  Of course, it may have been that she recognized me from my many trips in and out of there to purchase and return, purchase and return.  I may even have my photo in the breakroom as "Returner of the Month."  Who knows?

Yesterday, I actually had three items in the cart after I waited to return the rug (and purchase the Coke Zero) and looked at the python of a line and said "no, thank you" and put back the vase, throw and pillow that would have exhausted the store credit that I had burning a hole in my Dave Ramsey wallet from said return because part of it was paid for on a Visa Gift Card that was a rebate from purchasing tires the month before.


See those nice little slots where cash is supposed to go?  If only.

But the rug has been returned, and I have $28.75 to spend on something fabulous assuming that Jill doesn't read this and confiscate said card.  Which could totally happen.  She can sense that I am carrying around a card with a credit balance on it like I can sense that someone has cake in the breakroom at work.  It's a gift, really.

Anyway, I got up twice last night, tripped over the dogs who were stretched out by the bed who knew by the darkness that it wasn't time to get up to beg for food, and stumbled my way to the bathroom. Riley lifted his head and shot me a look that I could see from the Vizio was "Wench, why are you up again?"  Yes, I go to sleep with the TV on and the DirecTV box shuts off after four hours or so of non-activity that leaves a glow on the screen that is not quite as annoying as the bathroom light that Big Dave turns on every morning that shines enough light for me to wake up "naturally" at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. almost every morning of my life.  It is one of the few things that he does that truly annoys me, bless his early rising little heart.

But I digress...

When I came back from the second trip, I realized that my CPAP mask had come undone from the tubing and would require taping (I have a fabric mask.  And yes, it's pink.  My new one...that will be here this week...is blue.  The only available one they had was "camo" and NO.  Just no.)  So, I got up.  And I was none too happy about it.

Again.  Seriously, who doesn't sleep in at least one day of their vacation?  Answer?  Me.  Plus, if the temperature in the house is not on "Antarctica"...I can't sleep.  Poor Brecksyn has to use a heater in the bathroom when she visits because she'd freeze solid without it.  It is cold in the winter because we won't turn on the heat, and it's cold in the summer because I hate sweating more than I hate being Alabama Power's bit...whatever.

I don't know what it is about me and vacation days this year, but I am downright determined not to have fun on any of them.  The first two I took in May involved running errands and doing colonoscopy prep.  Yes.  The last five that I've just wrapped up in June have involved me running from one end of the earth to the other trying desperately to get through a to-do list that was not only optimistic...but downright ridiculous.  Here's a sample of some of what I've actually done:

• Returned a package that was sent here a week ago and needed to get back to its original owner along with the first slipcover I purchased for "Big Roy" (the chair in Casa Jill that I purchased for $10 at the Deer Creek yard sale earlier this month).  
• Found a bedside table after purchasing several that didn't work.
• Went to see something that I saw on a super-secret trading group that will work for us.
• Attended a baby shower in Greenville, a Fathers Day celebration in Mobile, found an apartment in Huntsville, and got peach ice cream (and a basket of not quite ready for eating peaches but we're eating them anyway) in Clanton at Peach Park.
• Returned everything under the sun to Lowe's, Home Depot, T.J. Maxx and Ross for Less.
• Attempted to make curtains with burlap and muslin.  Still a work in progress.
• Managed to eat at Hardees, Wendy's, Popeye's, Publix deli, Mimi's Cafe, Moe's, East China, Panera Bread, Street Cafe, McDonald's, Olive Garden and Arby's...many of them with coupons or gift cards. (This is not as much an accomplishment as a cry for help, just so you know.)
• Oversaw the security system upgrades here and at Casa Jill.  Okay, they still aren't completely finished, but whatever.
• Purchased a TV mount from a place that I had to find...which is difficult when you are only told the general direction, part of the name, and you are as directionally impaired as I apparently am.  (But to pay half of what I would at Costco?  Score!)
• Spent "quality time" with Jill for two days...and we both survived with our relationship intact. (I think so, anyway.)
• Did laundry, cleaned the laundry room and the kitchen, and got as far as the dining room table which is currently covered in all kinds of stuff that desperately needs a home, organizing, filing, or eradication.
• Got my CPAP machine tube replaced and ordered the new mask that I am apparently able to get once a year covered by insurance.  (Rock. On.)
• Floated in the pool for two hours, read two books, and wrote on the blog twice or maybe three times.  Can't remember.
• Schooled one of Jill's neighbors because she desperately asked for it. (Heifer.)

I'm actually looking forward to going back to work and the gym so that I can possibly sleep longer than six hours a night and can remember to take the "water pill" in the morning instead of 10:00 p.m. like a moron because I'm on some kind of schedule.  Plus, I need to get off of T.J. Maxx' list of "uncommitted shoppers."  You know...people who buy stuff and then return it.  I'm sure that they hate people like me.  But when you have no decorating taste whatsoever, and you are trying to be helpful, you can't read your 23 year old daughter's mind as to what constitutes "cute"...there's a whole lot of trial and error involved.

And returns are just an outgrowth of that.

I have learned a few things about shopping at T.J. Maxx, though.  I've learned that they are mighty proud of their furniture.  They have some really cute chairs and tables, benches and lamps, and other assorted decorating pieces...but they want about twice as much for them as I can see them being worth.  I can also tell you that on more than one occasion, a woman has purchased something that was in plain view that I just didn't see.  Yesterday, it was a shabby chic three paneled screen that would have looked precious in Jill's dining room.  Or so I think now that she has it in her cart assisted by one poor guy who is apparently the "carry it to your car" guy for them.  I walked by it all week.  It was also priced fairly...which, in my humble opinion, was a first.  Hopefully you are aware that you have to really inspect what you purchase because for some items, the reason that they are there in the first place is because there's a ding (like a missing beak on a bird) or some bizarre color that looks like it would match anything...but in reality has orange undertones that make whatever color you put with it bring out that orange (kind of like my skin does with most anything...which is why I can only wear a few things in the makeup world, sadly).  I've had both of these occur just this past week alone.

In case you care, judging by what was at the Maxx, birds are in right now.  As is burlap.  Or maybe that was what has come and gone in the other 49 states and we are just getting around to it.  That's normally the way the South rolls. We didn't get the memo on "big hair" until "Friends" came on in the 1990s and "The Rachel" became a popular hairstyle.  I understand that it was recently revealed that her stylist was high when he gave her that haircut.

I know I've been to some people that I've been convinced were high when they've cut my hair.  But I've digressed.  Again.

Where was I?  Oh...the Maxx.

Anyway, I've also learned that if it is something that would be "perfect in the house" that it will be ridiculously priced or the number you want will not be available.  So not kidding.

But that wasn't the only stop I made yesterday afternoon.  I also went to Plato's Closet because I have a bag of clothes in the car that Jill went through and won't wear anymore.  They took four items and paid me $25.  I'm keeping it for my trouble.  The rest is going on eBay.

I don't know if any of you have used eBay to sell things, but I have done so off and on since 2006.  I've only had one or two unfortunate incidents...one as a purchaser the first involving a Marlboro-laced box of scrapbooking supplies that were not what they stated to be (yes, I got my money back) and one as a seller (a cell phone I sold for someone didn't arrive...and they filed for reimbursement...and I didn't know because I don't go on there that often.  Fortunately, I had insured it with the U.S. Postal Service, and after jumping through their hoops...got my money back.)  But the last "unfortunate incident" means that I have a 0% positive rating now from the 100% that I had enjoyed from 2006 until this year.  Of course, the fact that other than that one item, I haven't sold anything in a year is supposedly responsible...but I'm pretty ticked that I'm a big, fat zero.

I'm probably going to spend a few hours putting some of the items Jill has on eBay because they are from Ann Taylor LOFT and in great condition.  Plato's Closet wouldn't take them because they are considered "missy" items.  Whatever.  Plato's got two great deals in what I dropped off there yesterday...but I also know that this was my final trip because she has completely purged her closet now of anything that might be considered "trendy."

Good for her.

I noticed that they didn't take the one-shoulder tops and dresses...so apparently those are "out of style."  I always thought that they looked a little bit Flintstones-ish anyway.


See?  Totally.

After the trip to Plato's Closet, I got in the pool in my ginormous bathing suit and floated around for what was supposed to be an hour...but was actually two.  I may just do that again today.

Last night, we had grilled tuna for supper, and I realized that I really do not like grilled tuna.  Like at all.  Give me that stuff in a can, and I'm all over it.  Put it in a one inch "steak" and I'm so not.  So, I ended up eating the vegetables (from Farmer Big Dave's garden) and sixty of the blue Jelly Belly jellybeans left over from the shower yesterday.  I still have about two thousand more.  Unfortunately.

Anyway, I'm up now after the second cup of coffee and am planning to get ready for church in a few minutes.  I'm fine for now...but about 5:30 tonight (when it is time to cook dinner, of course), I'll be exhausted and ready to turn in early.  At least that's been the pattern all week.

Have a wonderful day!  I will try to do the same.