Some Christmas Pictures and thoughts

When I read a blog, I feel like I am reading someone's journal and it always seems like it is a record of that very day.  Well, as I am trying to do this, I am realizing that (at least for myself) I am going to have to give myself grace and time to let things "develop."  Just like we once had to wait for film to be developed?  Well, downloading and editing and now in my case, decreasing the resolution so the computer will upload the pictures ALL takes time.  Also, writing and editing the words takes time.  So, in that mode, here are a few moments caught on "film" from our last month.



Me and my Honey in front of our 2010 Christmas tree.  The weather was a nippy 23 degrees with wind that dropped it to not much above bearable.  I was out of the car MAYBE five minutes before my fingers and toes were ice.



Here is my burley man looking cool in his down vest I bought him a few birthday's ago.  He is looking Fine.



All four of my boys dry and snug in their coats posing in front of our uncut Christmas tree.



Rex, my fourth boy after he jumped in the pond and soaked his nice fur coat and then did that three more times!!!  He has icicles all over and even on his whiskers.  I guess he really is a water hunting dog.  Turns out Middle son threw an apple in the little pond AND there was a duck decoy floating in the middle of the little icy pond.  It was inevitable.  But I was aghast sitting in the warm truck frozen merely from my five minute romp up the hill to take a quick look at the trees.

 

The decorated Christmas tree along with my new garland. 
Took me a while to find what I was looking for - garland, that is.  Something that would be simple to restring lights to, something that would not need a lot of attention each year when putting it up.  Something simple and yet festive.  And it didn't cost that much either!

  

Ah, the night before Christmas shot. 
Mom's elf work is finally done (at 1:30am). 
The last presents are jammed in Christmas bags with a little big of tissue on top and the basketballs that I didn't want to wrestle with were simply placed in front. 
Ahhhh, 366 more days before Christmas. 
And as I snap these photos before falling exhausted into bed I am making the same resolutions I did last year and many years before too:  Next year I am NOT going to buy so much.  Next year I will have the wrapping done EARLY.  Next year I will start all this in July. . . and probably next year I'll be saying all this all over again.

  

MY/OUR FIRST WHITE CHRISTMAS EVER!!  Yeah!!  I don't think any of us in Anderson really expected it to snow all week, but low and behold it did!!  This is Christmas evening 2010.

 

Took this picture same time and place as the one above, but I used my flash on this one. 
How about that - it was really snowing!!  Fun, Fun, Fun!!



Appreciating my "new" front door. 
(and photoshop that helped me take the pumpkin off the steps) 
I painted all our outside doors and door frames a few months ago.  This one really needed it.  It was looking AWFUL.  And I didn't know how expensive a new door handle and lock could be - over 100 dollars!!  After going to Lowe's 3 times, I found a brand that was really nice, but also 75 % off!  Got our new door handle for 30 bucks!

  

Love this.  Boys being boys.  The real snow pictures are from the day after Christmas.  This is enough for now.



Southern Snow



Add caption

The following is a post that I started but didn't complete after February 2010's snow.  Though a bit late, it still seems a little appropriate since we just had a WHITE CHRISTMAS!!!  I will work on a post about that soon, but until then, you can enjoy this one.  And I may post some on how to fix your pictures if your pictures turn out as these did.  Thanks to my photography teacher, I have corrected these pictures in Photoshop Elements.


This afternoon I thought about how special Southern Snow is.  We don't get it very often, and when we do it doesn't last very long.  A few years ago it started snowing in the evening and I finally lost the battle of trying to keep our three guys inside.  I kept thinking they could play the next morning, (but by the next morning it was gone - the snow had turned to rain.)  When they went out at 9pm we found that many of our neighbors were out building snowmen and sledding.  Then the next morning they had to go to school. 

Another interesting thing about Southern Snow is that the whole world stops.  We don't have all the equipment to clear the roads, and besides that, no one knows how to drive in snow anyway, so it is very dangerous to drive - even if you do know how to drive in snow - because no one else knows what they are doing. 

Today, though, I was thinking that if we had snow all the time it would get old fast and we wouldn't enjoy it as much as we do.  Let me set the scene for the next picture.  I have a rather large zoom lens on my camera, so I am not as close to these guys as it appears.  I really didn't think I was at risk.  I TOLD them to throw snowballs at me . . . and being obedient sons and neighbors . . . they did . . .

See that one on the right side of the picture.  With the blond hair.  The one that looks like he just pitched a baseball at his mom?  Yes, that's my middle son.

and it appears he has a future in baseball.  Possibly pitching.

  Yes, that is a close up of a snowball.  From the inside of the snowball.  I'm surprised it took at all.

Here he is very relieved that mom has a sense of humor and didn't get hurt by the camera smashing into her face.

This picture, though adorable, show cases what happens when you are still learning or not learning to adjust white balance.  Everything appears blueish.

And here is how we entertain on snow days.

Sneezing and Bless yous

I have been wanting to blog more, and just now went to a blog that has always inspired me.  She said to do it.  Blog.  A lot.  Regularly.  About what is happening in your life.  In your words.  

Then I sneezed. 

Nobody is here but me and the dog, so I sneezed like nobody was here.  No holding back.

Will, my little guy, sneezes big.  And he always sneezes twice.  Always. 

My man sneezes when he looks into a light, and so do my other two boys.

I, on the other hand, sneeze when I breathe in cold air.

When I was a Senior in college I lived in the upstairs of a lady professor's house.  There were three of us that lived up there.  One was a friend that told me about the place, Tami.  The other was a girl I never saw.  Seriously.  I lived there for a full semester.  I know what her car looked like, but I never saw her.  We shared a bathroom and a kitchen but somehow she avoided us all together.  Very strange.

Tami and I started realizing that not only did we have a strange up-stairs house mate, we also had an odd down-stairs house mate - the professor.  She sneezed at night.  Big sneezes.  Now realize, we lived upstairs.  She lived downstairs.  It was an old house with very tall ceilings.  Tami and I would here the sneezes begin, and we would have to stifle our laughter.  In my mind I pictured the roof coming off the house when she sneezed.  WAAAAACCHHHOOOOO!!!!  

Turns out we had to ask the professor something one evening, and we found out the answer to the huge sneezes.  When we signed the rental contract she specified that she wanted her privacy in the evenings and we weren't to disturb her after a certain time.  Accidentally we found out why.  The poor lady was tipsy.  I guess she was drowning her loneliness.  Kinda sad, but we appreciated the break from our studies to have a little chuckle.

In high school one of the cool dudes in school thought it was funny to say "Curse you" if someone sneezed twice and would then say "Bless you" if they sneezed the third time.  It was silly, but it also made me think about this cultural nicety that we pass on to complete strangers on a daily basis really without thinking about why we do it.

Here is wikipedia's explanation of the origin of the "Bless you.":

Several possible origins are commonly given. The practice of blessing a sneeze, dating as far back as at least AD 77, however, is far older than most specific explanations can account for.[1]



One explanation holds that the custom originally began as an actual blessing. Gregory I became Pope in AD 590 as an outbreak of the bubonic plague was reaching Rome. In hopes of fighting off the disease, he ordered unending prayer and parades of chanters through the streets. At the time, sneezing was thought to be an early symptom of the plague. The blessing ("God bless you!") became a common effort to halt the disease.[2]


A variant of the Pope Gregory I story places it with Pope Gregory VII, then tells the common story of "Ring Around the Rosey" being connected to the same plague.[3]

A legend holds that it was believed that the heart stops beating and the phrase "bless you" is meant to ensure the return of life or to encourage your heart to continue beating.[1][2][4]


Another version says that people used to believe that your soul can be thrown from your body when you sneeze,[1] that sneezing otherwise opened your body to invasion by the Devil[2] or evil spirits,[4] or that sneezing was your body's effort to force out an invading evil spirit.[1] Thus, "bless you" or "God bless you" is used as a sort of shield against evil.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bless_you


So, for 1500 or more years, we have been able to bless other people we don't know just because they sneezed.  What a neat opportunity to regularly pray for the strangers around us.  Don't just say, "God bless you."  Mean it.  Pray for their soul, their heart, their life.  And when it's not a stranger, even better.  Pray for their soul, their heart, their life. 

"God bless you."  Meant it.

Back on Target

When I started this blog, my goal was for it to be a ministry to others who either suffer with depression or know someone who does.  Actually, even if you think you don't know someone who suffers with it, you probably do.  So, as I semi-ly change my target audience, you are all still welcome.  I am more reminding myself of my calling.  If you want to, feel free to read back to the first entry from several years ago. 

For now, I have perused through my journals for the last few years and will be trying to post a little more frequently by re-writing some of my thoughts from my previous struggles over the years.  I would love for others to be encouraged by these as well as encourage one another.  My goal is not to pull anyone down, but rather to relate to those that are or have also been there.  Praise God, I am having a fantastic year - in comparison to where I have been.  May these bless your soul.

Hope is
a spark of what could be
a twinkle
a quick breath
a seed buried in dirt and rot
yet alive
the first hint of spring
the first light of dawn
the first bit of good news

Hope
doesn't happen on good days
isn't surrounded by joy
instead is flanked by sorrow,
fear, darkness and pain.

Hope is a simple small
most beautiful treasure to those
in sorrow, fear, darkness and pain -
to them, joy would be
scoffable because of their wounds
disrespectful to their pain and
unbelievable in their darkness.

Hope
is strong enough to endure
is weak enough to cry
is humble
brings broth to the weary,
not a feast
holds a hand without words
prays instead of singing
is a candle that can
spark life into a soul

Hope is
a believable dream.

01-01-2009 ach

My Done List for the last week and a bit.

Since there is so much that I need to add to my To Do list, I thought I'd take a minute and celebrate some done things.  I am not good at doing this.  Instead, I continue to look at all that hasn't been done.  So here goes.
Done:

• Changed "dining room" into piano room/sitting room.  Moved around Family room a bit. 
• Painted Front Door and Trim - Blue door, white trim.
• Found a great deal on a new door knob - reg. 120.00 on sale for 30.00!!
• Painted back door into garage - same as front.
• Painted back door onto deck - Fire engine red to match the red screen door (not quite done with this one.)
• Finally bought pansies, ornamental cabbages, and other winter plants for Dale's office.
• Had one throwing up boy in the middle of the night. (Very clean bathroom floor and walls and doors, etc. - you get the picture.)
• Had one boy with a bad cold all week.
• Thanksgiving program for two boys.
• Great visit/errands/shopping time with a friend.
• Walked/ran 7 miles one day; 4 miles another.
• Lots of driving to school for drop-off and pick up.
• Trimmed back all the about to die plants at Dale's office - very itchy.
• Planted gobs and gobs of happy violas and pansies and other interesting stuff at the office.
• One melt down. 
• Went to Harry Potter with oldest boy - then to buy birthday presents for friends (and slipped in a little bit of Christmas shopping - shhhh!)
• Finished planting at the office.
• Started planting at home to add some happy little bursts of violas at my windows, doors and mailbox.
• Delivered boys to birthday parties after wrapping presents for their friends. (I delivered one, Dale the other and the third got to stay home and ride the 4 wheeler with Daddy.)
• Sat and stared for a bit.  Mini meltdown.
• Favorite In-laws arrived to celebrate our youngest becoming a Christian and joining the church.
• Church and both sets of Grandparents to set out an "Ebenezar" stone of remembrance for Will.
• Very fun Home ministry group.
• Finished planting pansies that will hopefully add cheeriness to cold and bleary days.
• Wrote another blog.  :)

Am I one of those?

If you really are, you would never ask yourself this question,
because -
you would be convinced that you aren't. 

I grew up into one without even realizing that that is what I had become.  I am so relieved that God in His great mercy and grace opened my eyes to who I was in His sight.  I will keep you in the dark just a little longer.

Today in our Bible study we were discussing the second half of John chapter one where Jesus begins to collect His disciples.  One of the ladies in our study read verse 42
". . . Jesus looked at him and said, 'Oh, You are Simon son of John.  You will be called Cephas'." 
The way she read it gave it more depth than I had ever heard.  I tried to illustrate how she said it by emphasizing the You.  How it sounded to my ears was as if Jesus already knew him and had been wondering what he would look like or when he was going to show up.  He continues by telling Peter who he would one day be.  I loved the idea that Jesus couldn't wait to meet the men that would become his best friends while He was on earth.

Then Jesus meets Nathanael -(important note) after Nathanael makes a snide comment to Philip vs. 46 "Nazareth!  Can anything good come from there?"  I don't want to write out the whole passage.  It is the end part of John 1.  I have always thought that Jesus was being facetious when He said, "Here is a true Israelite, in whom there is nothing false."  Then Jesus goes on to tell Nathanael that He saw him under the fig tree before Philip called you.  Some in our group thought that Nathanael was having his quiet time there, but leave it to me to see the possibility of something completely opposite.  I thought Jesus was revealing Nathanael's sin - that whatever Nate was doing under that fig tree wasn't something "Kosher" - if you get my drift.  Now, don't get me wrong, John leaves the truth here unstated - vague.  This little secret is between Jesus and Nathanael, but his immediate response is "Rabbi, you are the Son of God;  You are the King of Israel." 

His response reminds me of another response given to Jesus by the woman at the well.  When Jesus tells her, "You are right when you say you have no husband.  The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.  What you have just said is quite true."  (I had never noticed that last sentence, do you see the humor of Jesus, can't you see the twinkle in His eye as he makes that last statement?  He has just made quite an accusation, but He softens it by agreeing that she has not told a lie.)

She hides her shock quite well, and replies, "Sir, I can see that you are a prophet," and then she proceeds to attempt to change the subject, but instead she has played right into His plan where He reveals Himself as the Messiah to not just a Samaratin, but to a woman, and not just any woman, but one who is clearly a sinner.  She is so shaken, she leaves water jar behind, and here is what she tells the town, "Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did.  Could this be the Christ?" 

And then another interaction comes to mind.  The rich young ruler came to Jesus to proclaim his own holiness and that he does, but Jesus knows his heart and points directly to his sin - his money.  He loves his money more than he loves God.  Help me out here.  Is there any place in scripture where Jesus or God points to a person's righteousness rather than to their sin? 

OK, I've got one already, Job. 

God presents Job to Satan with this discription, "There is no one like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil."  Wow!  How's that for a character reference. . . then God proceeds to allow Satan to tear up everything that Job holds dear and creates a true story that many years later continues to baffle us as readers and believers.  But in the very last chapter, what do we find?  42:1-6, Job confesses, repents to God that he really had no idea of how wonderful God is.  He repented of his own pride.  And God was pleased.  God turns around and blasts Jobs friends for all their rantings, and then tells them He will accept Job's prayers for his friends.  Repentance is what leads to Righteousness.  Irony is beautiful.  The only way I can be Righteous is by admitting I am Not. 

I contemplated other OT "saints" like Noah, Abraham, David, were any of them praised for their Righteousness.  Hmmm, maybe. . .  That train of thought led me to Hebrews and the "Hall of . . . Righteousness? . . . no, the hall of Faith which was counted as Righteousness.  Faith in their own Righteousness?  NO, Faith in God's perfect sacrifice that was yet to come, Faith in Jesus, whose Name was yet to be revealed.  Though there is a chapter break between 11 and 12, it was not written that way.  Hebrews 12:2 says, "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our Faith. . ."

So, my question is really, "Am I one of those?  Am I a legalist, a pharisee, a saved by works believer? or possibly "Am I a Nathanael?"  Like I said, if you are, you would be hard to convince that you aren't - Like Nicodemus who could hardly believe that Jesus was telling him that he needed to be saved.  Him - a Pharisee, a godly man, a follower of the law - needed to be saved - needed to believe in Jesus to get to heaven.  He needed to start all over from scratch. 

Nicodemus had built his own temple of good works.  Could he now abandon them and turn to Christ Alone for his salvation?  Could you turn from your weekly tithe, your Bible study time, your submissive role as a wife, your helping the fatherless and the widows, your contributions to missions or your own mission trips or even your life as a missionary.  Could you let all that "burn up" and not be "counted"?  Is Christ's righteousness enough for you?  Could you not do another "good work" for the rest of your life and be content to rest in Christ's goodness for you? 

I was accosted again by legalism last night and I literally burst into tears at the deceiptfulness that legalism is to be hiding itself right smack in the assumption of Salvation.  I long to reveal the lies that are so artfully crafted around seemingly Godly beliefs.  I agonize over people, friends that don't see it and fall head long into "another gospel" as Paul calls it. 

A little more than twenty years ago, I got on a plane to cross the country on my way to college.  I vividly remember at some point in the trip realizing that I had left all I knew and loved behind and that I was on that plane with only God.  I am ashamed to say, I was uncomfortable with even that idea.  Within the next month, that God, who was on that plane with me, revealed Himself to me through sermons from I John, and Matthew 7:21-23, "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven. . . Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you.  Away from me, you evil-doers!'"

Up until that time, I had been a "Doer" - Jesus called it what it really was/is an "Evil - Doer."  It was sobering at the time and still sobers me today that but for the grace of God, I would have continued in my Doing.  Instead I had to humble myself, admit my sin and ask for His righteousness.  I then had to tell those around me, but even harder, I had to tell those at home that I had just been saved.  That all that they had seen and watched had not been because of my love for Christ, but rather my own working my way to heaven.  So, I ask you, I ask myself, "Could you walk away from it all, could you let it burn, could you never Do another thing to please God and be okay with it?" 

(As an aside, an argument with myself, if you will.  I am not talking about the "easy-believism" version of salvation at all.  That once you say the words and walk the aisle, you are a "Christian."  This would be the opposite type of "believer" to which I am referring.  I think I am starting to understand why James is sometimes so confusing.  "Show me your faith without your works and I will show you my faith by my works. . . . " James 2:14-26 speaks to this opposite type of "believer."  So, there are both extremes - those that lean on their works and have no faith and those that lean on their supposed faith, but their lack of works prove them false.)

So, with that being said, I give you one last Biblical illustration.  Solomon wisely determined the mother of the baby by offering to cut the baby in half and give part to each woman who claimed the baby.  The true mother could not bear the idea and gave up her claim to save the baby's life. 

So too, my question is a twist of reality. 

When I thought of it today - "Could I give up my works?"  My immediate thought was not of the loss of the works, but of the loss of the things that build my relationship with God.  Could I not go to church for the rest of my life?  That would be painful to not fellowship with my brothers and sisters in Christ.  It would be painful to not hear the Word preached or to sing and worship Him.  It would be painful to not have a Bible to read.  It would be painful to not speak of Him to others.  Indeed it would become a fire in my bones.  I could not hold it in.  (Jeremiah 20:9 But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in His name," His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones.  I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.) 

Wow, it would be as if we were locked in a cell to live out our life holding onto only the Righteousness of Jesus - without the evidence of it - here comes the wow part.  That is what happened to John the Baptist. 

John himself said, "He must increase; I must decrease." But not long after "²When John heard in prison what Christ was doing, he sent his disciples ³to ask him, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"  Matthew 11. 

John, in prison, sends a message to Jesus, "Are you really the Christ?" 

Can you fathom? 
The one who was sent to "prepare the way,"
the one who so boldly proclaimed "I have seen and I testify that this is the Son of God." 
The one who was linked with God the Father and God the Holy Spirit as testifiers that Jesus, the Man, was also Jesus, the Son of God, the Lamb of God.

⁴Jesus replied, "Go back and report to John what you hear and see: ⁵The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor."  Matthew 11 
Oh, my, I have just gone back to the cross reference of where those words were in the Old Testament, and I am almost crushed with the beautiful words that surround the message that Jesus sent to John.  Isaiah 35:5  Jesus was telling John with words from Isaiah that He was fulfilling those words while John was locked in a dark dungeon.  Want to guess that maybe John also knew the words surrounding that verse?  Listen to the comfort of the words around Isaiah 35:5

1 The desert and the parched land will be glad;
   the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
   Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
   it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
   The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
   the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
   they will see the glory of the LORD,
   the splendor of our God.

3 Strengthen the feeble hands,
   steady the knees that give way;

4 say to those with fearful hearts,
   "Be strong, do not fear;            
   your God will come,
   he will come with vengeance;
   with divine retribution
   he will come to save you."        
5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened  
    and the ears of the deaf unstopped.          

6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,             
   and the mute tongue shout for joy.              
   Water will gush forth in the wilderness
   and streams in the desert.

7 The burning sand will become a pool,
   the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
   In the haunts where jackals once lay,
   grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.

8 And a highway will be there;
   it will be called the Way of Holiness.
   The unclean will not journey on it;
   it will be for those who walk in that Way;
  wicked fools will not go about on it.

9 No lion will be there,
   nor will any ferocious beast get up on it;
   they will not be found there.
   But only the redeemed will walk there,

10 and the ransomed of the LORD will return.
    They will enter Zion with singing;
    everlasting joy will crown their heads.
    Gladness and joy will overtake them,
    and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

Would those words not comfort you.  It makes me wonder if this were a passage that the young Jewish children learned.  Or if John and his second cousin Jesus learned it together as teen boys and if John was at the temple when the boy Jesus was teaching the Teachers.  Somehow John knew that Jesus was greater than he before it was revealed to him that Jesus was the Son of God, for he argued with Jesus that he shouldn't be baptizing Jesus but rather the other way around. 

Now, what do you think, seriously, I'd like to hear some feedback, do you think when Jesus greeted Nathanael with, "Here is a true Israelite, in whom there is nothing false."  Was Jesus refering to Nathanael's righteousness or his sin?  I have given my contemplations behind my thoughts, but I know I could be wrong.  I would love to hear your thoughts.

The Best Lasagna Ever - Easily

Ugh!  Recipes!  Mine are tattered and torn, falling out of my recipe book.  There are torn out magazine pages stuffed in between pages and several stacks of print outs from my searches of All Recipes trying to find the best version of whatever it was at the moment I had a craving to make.  That doesn't happen often around this house.  I am not crazy about cooking.  There are so many steps.

• Make a menu
• Make a grocery list
• Get to the grocery store - with or without children (which is a HUGE difference)
• Find the grocery list in my purse - hopefully or run back to the car and hopefully find it there or worse come to worse, try to remember all that was written on that list that I left on the table.
• Accumulate all the groceries for said menu (as well as the snacks, milk, OJ, cat food {see previous entry} and toilet paper)
• Unload all that stuff at the register (or go to Ingles where you just wheel up the cart and they take it out.  Why haven't other grocery stores gone this route, pray tell?  It eliminates one step in the long process.)
• Pay the exorbitant amount that the young girl asks for.
• Unload the exorbitantly expensive food into the back of your car without crushing the bananas, eggs or bread.
• Again unload the exorbitantly expensive food from the back of your car into your kitchen.
• Again unload the said groceries from all the individual bags onto the counter.
• Put them all away.
• Get them all out again to cook something for dinner - which takes a whoppin 15 minutes when 5 people miraculously appear, gobble down dinner and then disappear again.  Leaving behind plates, utensils, pots and pans, glasses and crumbs to be cleared, cleaned and put away.

Alas, I am sure most of you can relate, but what I am about to share is quite a treasure.  It was discovered by my family when I was a kid in Alabama:  The Best Lasagna Ever!  It didn't have that name originally, but we knew it was good.  Marsha Odom from our church made it and brought it to every covered dish supper we had (because if she didn't. . . ).  When we moved from Alabama to South Carolina, my mother decided to try to make lasagna.  Unfortunately, we had had the best lasagna ever, and nothing compared.  So that became the goal - to find one as good as Marsha Odom's.  And we started rating the lasagnas, but none were close to "the best ever."  After about a year of trying.  Mom hunted down Marsha's address and requested the recipe that we so coveted. 

It was perfect.  It was and still is the ultimate lasagna.  It won over my husband (made him think I could cook).  To this day, he refuses to order lasagna anywhere because he says, "Nothing compares - not even worth trying it."  I recently ordered a sampler at an Italian restaurant in Greenville, and he shook his head at my silliness.  He was right.  What was I thinking???

So, here is the famous recipe - not my fault if you don't write it down:
The Best Lasagna Ever - Easily

Lasagna - Original recipe from Marsha Odom -
(alterations by Annette Hardy)
1lb ground beef (or a little more)
1 lg onion, chopped (vidalia)
2 cloves garlic, minced (hmm, have forgotten about this ingredient)
1 lrg jar Ragu Spaghetti Sauce - with Mushrooms
(I usually have to use 1/2 a jar more)
salt to taste (nope, leave this out too, figure I add enough to noodles)
(I have added chopped spinach to my sauce too, and that is yummy.)
1/2 cup red wine
(don't usually use this, but thinking it might add a nice zing)
12 Lasagna noodles
(a few more for those that break - just regular ones)
12 oz carton small curd cottage cheese (yes, I have tried all the low fat and no fat and all that, but for the few times a year that I make this, I think I'm stickin to the real thing and I use about 16 oz.)
1 Tbsp parsley (I just dump some in, probably more than 1 Tbsp)
2 eggs beaten
16 oz shredded Mozzarella cheese
(yes, I probably use twice that amount too)
1/2 cup parmesan cheese (again I use the whole container - Marsha must have had a smaller 9 X 13 pan than I have.)

1. Saute onions and garlic in small amt of oil.  Add hamburger and scramble until done (or throw it all in together - no oil, drain off extra oil at the end.)
2. Add spaghetti sauce, salt and wine - bring to boil - simmer 1/2 hour (or however long the next steps take you)
3. Cook noodles according to pkg directions, drain and rinse in collander.
4. Combine cottage cheese, eggs and parsley in a separate bowl.
5. Assemble in the following order:
1. Little sauce on the bottom (inside) (yes, this was in my mother's handwriting and she would write that because my brother would be the one to kiddingly put it on the bottom of the pan or worse) of a 9 X 13 pan
2. Place 4 noodles on bottom (of pan) (see?) overlapping
3. Spoon 1/3 meat sauce over noodles
4. Spread 1/2 cottage cheese mixture over sauce.
5. Sprinkle not quite 1/2 mozzarella cheese
6. And 1/3 Parmesan cheese over top of that.
7. Repeat with 4 noodles, 1/3 meat sauce, 1/2 cottage cheese, 1/2 mozzarella and 1/3 Parmesan
8. Last 4 noodles, remaining sauce and parmesan - (then finish with about 1 cup of mozzarella.)
9. (Best if made the morning of or the night before baking.)
10. Bake at 350 for 45 minutes - let stand 15 minutes before cutting.  (Wonderful as leftovers.)

Well, talk about steps - that's a Lot of steps!  I guess this is the one recipe that I truly have memorized.  You'd think that by 41 I'd know others by memory, but alas, my brain fails me, but has been faithful to remember this one - this very important ONE. 

Now I'm hungry, but wasn't planning on making lasagna tonight. 

Murder Mystery in the Hardy Household

We woke this Saturday morning to feathers strewn across the house.  The suspects aren't talking.  They aren't even acting strange, but something is askew.  The body or the bones have yet to be found.  I am not looking forward to that discovery. 

Suspect Number 1:  Number 1 only because he has been here the longest, and he is the biggest.  Rex has been with us for almost 4 years now.  He is our adorable - and sometimes ferocious (when the UPS man comes with a package, or when the doorbell rings) Boykin Spaniel.  Our mailman has the perfect reaction to Rex.  He laughs at his "ferociousness" and walks right past him and tells him he is doing such a good job.  Boykin's are bred to be bird dogs.  That's a big strike against him, but in my observation, the birds have teased him more than he has bothered the birds.

Suspect Number 2:  Suspect Number 2 has been with us almost 2 years now.  Mollie was a teeny tiny feral kitten found near our neighborhood pool.  She was a wild thing - all claws and hisses.  (as opposed too hugs and kisses)  To hold her we had to wrap her carefully in a towel.  Our justification to keeping her was that the previous winter a family of mice that had taken up residence in our cozy garage . . .  Well, at 6 months, puberty hit and our kitten was on her way to being a mama.  Resulting in:

Suspect Number 3:  Ollie was one of three kittens that were born a year ago.  (Yes, I know Mollie and Ollie - very confusing and for me almost embarrassing, but I let the boys each name one kitten and Will named this one saying:  "This way if it is a boy or a girl, it can keep its name.")  Ollie is our most probable suspect.  Last fall she discovered grasshoppers - those big ones.  They fascinated her, so she brought them inside - alive - and played with them for hours until one of us found it (usually me) and I would holler for a boy to come toss the nasty bugger outside.  This spring we have found presents of baby birds, baby bunnies, moles and most famously - a few snakes - yes, she brought them inside to play with again.  Somehow this wasn't what I was thinking of when I thought it would be a good idea to get a cat to take care of the rodent problem.  Mouse traps would have been much easier.

Now for the events of the day before the distressing discovery:

It was Friday.  I knew they were running low on food, but it was late that night that they officially ran out.  It should be noted that Suspect Number 1 has a pesky habit of sneaking the cat food as if it is a treat.  Not wanting to run to the grocery store just for cat food/dog snack at 11:00 at night, I gave them the next best thing - Cheerios!  As I am sure you would have suspected, they turned up their noses.  But Rex didn't - he thought it was a great idea.  Well, they are in no way starving - a little fast wouldn't hurt either of them, so we hoped for the best and went to bed.

I vaguely remember hearing something going on in the living room, but none of it sounded alarming enough to come check it out.  And now that is all I can remember - that maybe something was happening.  Before breakfast I made my way to the store and bought 4 (count them) 4 bags of cat/dog food. 
That was Saturday.  It is now Monday and no more evidence has been found.

Intermittent Windshield Wipers!

What a great invention!! 
           If you can make yours work easily,
                          unlike mine. 
I can never remember which way to turn the knob to make it go faster or slower and then have to wait to find out which way I turned it.  In the mean time I have fielded 2 questions from the back seat, avoided a car turning into my lane, missed my turn, and then forgot what I was doing in the first place - until the rain comes down harder, and I can't see where I'm going.  Then I switch it over to regular until the rain lets up, and the wipers are squeeking, and then I go back to fiddling with the Intermittent Windshield Wipers again.

My first two cars were quite the ancient relics, so when I finally ended up with a cool Toyota Corolla that was "new" enough to have some gadgets on it, I was stoked!  I remember showing off my intermittent windshield wipers to those that came to look at my "new" car.  I got many laughs at my excitement over that feature, but I truly was excited.  I even liked saying the words, "intermittent windshield wipers."  I got some strange looks from those who had not endured my first two cars.

Rabbit Trail: 
I now drive a Honda Odyssey van - this is my third.  Many of us moms drive them, but have you noticed that it seems like they introduced it in the late 90's with the bare bones (when the other Honda's were bursting at the seems with extravagances) only to add them on one year at a time.  Come on, Honda, don't play silly games, we are big girls now.  Give us the gadgets!  I want the cup holders, the temperature inside and out, the door locks (from the front seat), the back-seats to go down easily so I can convert my van into a truck, how about self cleaning carpets or automatic trash dumper?  and front seat noise elimination?  Ooooooh!How about a stewardess to deliver snacks and a potty!!  Got anything to get the gum off the side door where my boys tossed their gum out like Mommy does, but they didn't make it?  And I love that commercial where you run water over the car and all the dents come out!!  That would be nice for covering up the dent in the bumper that happened the day I was amourall-ing my dash while turning a corner and misjudged the side of the road and ran into a drainage cover.  (Embarrassing - to say the least - especially when my oldest says with great delight, "My classmates are gonna get a kick out of that!")  Who armour-alls their car while driving????

Back to the topic - sort of - what was I talking about?:

My first car was truly a relic - and not the good kind.  Closer to the Pinto or Gremlin kind of relic but a little less notorious.  My dad teased me about getting me an army tank and my brother would point out all the cars he thought would be suitable to drive - ugh. 

Well, unfortunately for my fragile teenage status, what I ended up with was not far from their teasing jests.  My dad lucked out and found a mustard brown 1970 something Ford Valiant.  Not exactly your/my dream car, but then again, it did get me from home to school and to my friend's houses and wherever else I could go at that age.  It gave me freedom . . . and I could also drive my sisters to and from school (aha, now I know why my parents let me drive!). 

As long as I remembered them - Suz and I often got home from high school, took one look at mom and were stopped in our tracks - the deer in the headlights look and remembered that we had left our little sister languishing in junior high late stay.  With many giggles, we'd race back out to face the wrath of steaming little sister that we had left at school - again and we would have to endure another trip home trying not to laugh. Oops!

Two and a half years later when Suzanne was old enough to drive, would you believe, my dad found a Second 1970's Ford . . . Valiant.  Gotta be fair, ya know.  Thankfully he couldn't find a third!  To Amy's credit, he found a small yellow station wagon that Amy drove with her head held high - she named it, "The Banana."  Kept it spick and span as if it were a mustang and toted her friends all around town - because they would fit in her car rather than in their two and four seaters.  She learned character from that car.

Several years into my driving adventures, I went to my best friend's house.  One of her brother's friends was there visiting from out of town.  (We had both had secret crushes on him, so that makes this all the worse.)  He said "Hey," and then glanced out the window and named my car by asking, "do you still drive that little brown turd car?"

http://www.valiant.org/chron.html  I tried to find a picture and add it here, but couldn't figure out how to do it.  Here is the Valiant site.  If you really want to, scan through some of the cool older ones, and then, when you get to the mid 70's, you will see they get quite a bit less desireable (and the sales went down) - there is a nice light blue version (probably NOT the original paint version) that is pretty much what I drove, but in a mustardy light brown color.  OK, I've gone back and found a picture I took of one last September when we were vacationing with my Best Friend and her family:  Here it is in white:

And here we are, not quite as svelte as we were in high school,

but 2 husbands (1 each) and 6 kids (three each) richer. . .

and we both now drive Honda Odysseys - with stewardesses

(namely ourselves - heaven keep our guardian angels on high alert when we are driving!)

As my boys discuss what cars they want to drive when they get old enough, I tell them stories about the "little brown turd car," and very rarely I see one putting around town and point it out to them.  They laugh a little and then say, "Mommy, that's a cool car - if you painted it."  Yeah, it's cool now 'cause it is so old - then it was just cheesy and obviously not impressive to those I wanted to impress.  But it has given me many laughs and every car since then has been very exciting!  My next one was a dream - a blue 1982 Datsun B210 - I just looked it up on the web to see what year it was and someone had labled the picture, "my putrid Datsun b210."  Well, I have fonder memories of my second car than that, but unfortunately, because of it's shape, it got named, "The Flea."  The Flea has it's own set of stories.

Taxi Momma.

Told you I was gonna paint my van yellow!  It is official.  I am now a taxi van driver.  Just don't try calling for rides, because I am booked.  Tomorrow I have two trips to school and three baseball games in the evening.  And I have to go find ink for the printer and some stuff for a project too.

Seriously, I had been kidding about painting my van yellow just days before, and I pulled into Dale's office and there it was.  A YELLOW TAXI VAN!!

Anderson is a not so big town.  We don't see taxi cabs much - I've never seen a taxi Van in Anderson - and there it was.  In our parking lot.  Daring me to take its picture.  I dared alright.  Maybe I should call it and see how much he would charge to taxi my boys back and forth to school and to all their games and practices.  At least then I'd know what all my driving was worth.

Gardening Tips:

• Perennials are worth their investment - as long as you like them.
• Get the good hose.  And the long one.
• Don't plant further than your hose.
• Miracle Grow works.  Use the old fashioned type.
• Don't plant mint.
• Take time to teach your husband what your perennials look like.
• Round up kills weeds - and perennials.
• Round up does not kill mint.
• Wave petunias are great!
• New Gold Lantana is Great!
• Find a cool nursery - that is not Lowes or Home Depot - for real advise. 
• Believe them when they say, "this will grow pretty big."
• Zinnias grow easily from seed - not much else does.
• Atlas Gloves are wonderful! (amazon)
• Slugs are not.
• Worms are good.  Grubs are not.
• DON'T BUY THE JAPANESE BEETLE BAGS AND BAIT!!!  (They lure all the Japanese beetles in the neighborhood to your yard)
• If you do buy the Japanese Beetle bags, they will come to the bag, but also to your roses and your trees and your flowers - before they get to the bag.  They will eat your roses, your Crete Myrtles and Cherry Trees, more - and worse, they lay eggs in the ground that become grubs and will be back next year many more times than the first year.
• If you have done this, get the stuff to kill the grubs that are in the ground and Do Not fall for the Japanese Beetle Bags - again!! 
• Plants I can't kill - easily:  zinnias, daisies, purple coneflowers, lantana, salvia, blue daze, black eyed susans, and of course, mint.
• Don't fall for even Chocolate Mint.
• Don't step on bees.
• Plants need water.
• Mulch is good.
• Dogs, not so good.
• Can I say it just one more time?  Don't plant mint.

Don't stir the tea with the phone!

Yesterday I drove for my son's first grade class to Greenville Children's Museum for a field trip.  I have heard great things about this place, and they were all true.  This place was fabulous.  I'm gonna drag all three of my boys there - maybe as soon as next week.

Well, back to driving.  My friend, Elizabeth got to ride with me and her daughter and another little girl from the class as well as my son and another little boy from their class.  We were all talking at once, so the volume often rose to decibels a few to0 high for highway driving.  Elizabeth and I were able to tune most of it out and enjoy our time, but I almost fell out of the van laughing when Elizabeth jumped from our conversation to a little girl conversation going on behind us and she sweetly said, "No, let's not lick our feet.  Put your shoes back on.  Now what were you saying, Annette?" 

Oh the things we have said as mothers we never dreamed we would say.  I wish I had thought to write them all down.  I'm hoping God did that for me - I'm sure he's had a good chuckle over things He has overheard in my home.  But of course, I can't remember them.  The title of this is from a friend of mine in Charleston who said this to her own astonishment to her children one day 11 or so years ago.  Anyone have ones to add?

Coffee Table Art

In the aftermath of a family ski trip, a few extra days with the boys at home, a birthday party in the works and all the other normal stuff that goes on around here, I am trying to find my floor, my kitchen, my papers for a doctor's visit and the coffee table.  I found a few Southern Living magazines and thought, "That would be nice to have on the coffee table .  .  .  "

By my coffee table, you can tell who lives here, I have on my coffee table 3 remote control cars, 2 TV remotes, a 750 piece puzzle barely started (and two cookie sheets to divide up the edges), a baseball glove (don't know why - haven't started baseball season yet), 3 mismatched dirty socks (not mine), a lego R2D2  - minus his head, super glue, smiley face pajamas, a much read Harry Potter book, batteries, ear phones for an ipod - no ipod, another set of ear phones without ipod, a notebook with DVD's in it, a dog-chewed knife case (no knife), a torn open empty box for a Micro RC remote control car, and a big notebook on discipleship, and under the coffee table, dirty cleats.  That sums us up pretty well - (now if I could just get those Southern Living magazines to look good on this table, we'd be all well represented.  OK, so the coffee table itself can represent me.  It is good for looks alone - doesn't have any drawers or bins to toss stuff into, has a glass top and it is painted/stained white and distressed.)

That's just on the coffee table!  As I glance around the room, there are more legos, a toy bow and arrow set, a real bow and arrow set, a few dog bones, another remote control car, more socks on counters, and a football on the couch beside me, and that's just what I can see from where I am sitting.  I write all this with much joy.  I am appreciating the boy clutter (believe me, I make plenty and possibly more of my own clutter). 

Southern Living magazines??? What was I thinking?  I think I need to start a Boy Living magazine.  Life with boys doesn't fit into the "Southern Living" mold, but then again, life with me doesn't either.

Pictures from flying.

Got camera, battery, memory card. . . good friend and an

AIRPLANE - - - Ready for an adventure!!

What a sweet friend to make me go for the adventure . . .

we will never forget it, will we? 

Check out the cool accessories!

 

Amazing how our lives suddenly seem so small in perspective.

Those three squares on the right are for sale. . .  if you are interested.

That's why we are in the air - to take pictures of those 3 "small" squares. :)

This one turned out to be my favorite.  I like the horizon in it.

It shows how close the office sites are to Hwy 81 and the hospital.

The Forgetful Tooth Fairy

The Tooth Fairy visited our house again.  My youngest is trying to catch up.  He lost his first tooth on the first day of January - 2010 and now his second tooth on the first day of February. 

Unfortunately, the Tooth Fairy must have had an important hockey game or something, because he didn't make it to our house Monday night.  I tried to make amends by taking him to see the new movie that is out called . . . The Tooth Fairy.  Seemed a bit appropriate.

Tuesday night as he was headed to bed, he came up and said to me, "Mommy, I sure hope the Tooth Fairy comes tonight."  I quickly texted a reminder to TF to remember our house. 

I'm quite sure he doesn't really believe, but we are both having fun playing along.  At Christmas we haven't played the Santa game.  Last year we talked about the real St. Nicholas.  This year when I started kidding about all the work Santa (ie: me) had to do, my youngest piped up, "Maha-Meee, Santa's Dead!!"  Well, that's a little harsh, but I had to admit, it was true.  We had a little chat about not saying that to his classmates, but I don't know how well he listened.

Well, Santa may be dead at our house, but the Tooth Fairy (though not always on time) lives.  One night I got home from some errands to find a note written out across several sheets of notebook paper and taped to the back door.  It said in pencil with many misspellings, "Mommy, please remind the Tooth Fairy that I lost a tooth today." 

One of my favorite "Mommy tidbits" is:  go to the bank and get silver dollars, gold dollars and two dollar bills (for front teeth or especially brave extractions).  I usually tell my boys to keep their special coins and dollars and I will give them "regular" money to spend.

Anyone want to go Flying??

January 28, 2010  Part II

I am not big on flying for several reasons, but the main one being . . . that I have a tendency to "hurl" when the "ground" underneath me moves too much.  I once flew in a little plane when I was 5 as a reward for learning the most verses in VBS, and then, didn't get into a plane again until I was a freshman in college. 

I went to college in California, so it was usually a little bumpy flight from Greenville airport to Atlanta, then a very long 5 hour flight to Los Angeles.  Dramamine was my friend, unless my flight got canceled, (which it did several times), and then I would have to place myself in as safe a cubby as I could find, drape my legs over my luggage, prop my head up on whatever else I had, sleep off the effects of the Dramamine and pray that I woke up in time for the next flight. 

And, by the way, have you seen those upchuck bags they so kindly tuck behind the seats?  WHAT are those for - - mini breadsticks??  My advice, if you start to sweat on a flight - - start gathering those breadstick bags from everyone around you - 'cause they're not gonna hold much. 

Memorable flights (ie flights I'd rather forget):  Getting off the "little puddle jumper" from Atlanta to Greenville and greeting my mom who said, "You look a little green."  And I felt green. 

Another time (flying in a small plane) from Greenville to Atlanta, I did okay until I got off the plane and went by a store that had a small plane on a string flying in small circles at the front of a store - what were they thinking?? 

And of course, the lovely time when I was a young college student flying alone with my Elle magazine (I only bought them when I flew), I was surrounded by several men - a young dude, a business dude and some other dude.  We didn't talk or anything, but gave some glances to each other as the plane did a few bounces, then a drop, a lift, "The Captain has turned on the seatbelt sign", a few glances  - - (I'm okay!), a few more bounces (ugh), a lift, up, down, bounce, bounce (feeling green), drop, (please let this stop - where is that BAG?) - they looked nervous too - but more about me then about them, and they handed me their bags. . . enough said.  One even asked the stewardess to pick up the bags for me.  Mortified!!  So much for Elle.

January 28th already felt like a dramamine induced crazy dream (see previous blog), but a bit of this story actually happened the night before -
At 5pm (the night before), Dale had sent me a text asking if I wanted to go up in a plane to take an arial shot of the office and the other office sites that are still for sale in Cardinal Park. 

I am a mom of three school age boys.  My days are usually full of rushing kids out the door, dropping off kids, exercise, picking up kids, doing homework, more picking up kids, what's for dinner and more homework.  So the idea of hopping on a plane in the middle of the day didn't quite compute.  My initial answer was, "No, thank you."             And, did you read the intro?  That was a big factor too.

But, I was meeting my dear friend, Elizabeth for dinner at the neighborhood Mexican spot up the street.  Her husband had been out of town for two weeks, and since Dale had a meeting that night, I thought we could take the kids out and have a little bit of chit chat ourselves.  Well, when Elizabeth heard about the plane ride, she said, "Of course you are going!"  in a very chipper, excited voice.       (She hadn't read the intro. yet)

To which I replied, "Well, I'll go if you go." 

And she promptly retorted, "Well, then, I guess we are going on a plane ride tomorrow." 

[Insert previous blog about office break-in here]

And then I woke up. . . very wonky from all the wierdness that had happened the night before, plus, the strangest dreams that continued the drama into my dream world, and a little nervous anxiety that maybe I really was going to go flying this morning too.  I decided against "drama"-mine since even the "less drowsy" type that is now out can still make me a bit groggy and I had had enough drama from the night's events to last all month.

I was secretly hoping it would all fall through . . . but it didn't, so, I dressed warmly and at the last minute grabbed 3 plastic grocery bags . . . and then a gallon ziplock for good measure.

My flying friend didn't let me down, I picked her up  -  -  - and then our plane got delayed.

So we stopped by the office, got a YUMMY rasberry chocolate truffle coffee and heard Bethany's version of the break-in which helped me dismiss some of my anxiety with some good hard tear-producing laughter.

We drove across town, and as we were walking into the tee-niny terminal of Anderson Airport, Elizabeth confessed that she wished she had called Bebe to tell her it was OK if Ann Catherine (who is 6) got her ears pierced before she was twelve. . . and it didn't matter if John (8) didn't smile if he was on the front page of the newspaper. . .   OK, so I wasn't the only one who was nervous.

It was a six-seater.  Two seats facing forward with all the controls.  Two seats facing backwards behind the front two and then two seats facing forwards again.  I got the one in the far back - so I could take pictures - great for pictures, (but not for hurling.)

I wish I didn't have such a weak stomach.  I think I could really enjoy flying - and I did most of the trip. 

We were up and over the city within about 3 minutes!  We circled Dale's office and circled and circled and went up and then down and circled some more.  I was fine.  I clicked and clicked and clicked getting a whole bunch of great arial shots. 


Then we went on a little hunt for Elizabeth's house, we found our church, the hospital, the grounds for the new school, a swamp we didn't know existed right next to Elizabeth's neighborhood . . .  We went around her neighborhood looking down into the trees, trying to find our bearings, and then, trying to give our patient pilot directions.  Now she is sitting across from me and looking out the opposite window, so our directions were all confused. 

Needless to say,  I started to get hot.  I unbuckled, took off my cozy sweater and Elizabeth saw my face and realized what was happening.  She asked Tom (our patient pilot) if we could get some air.  Tom was trying to direct us to some air vents (we never found them) and by then it didn't matter anyways.  I sure am glad I grabbed those grocery bags - and the ziplock.  Remember that YUMMY raspberry chocolate truffle coffee?  Yeah. 

Well, after that I was fine, but Tom wasn't risking it - he was landing his beautiful plane (with its nice clean interior) as quickly as possible. 

Elizabeth was so sweet.  She grabbed the bag from me and told me she she had "never seen anyone throw up so lady-like!"  What a good friend.  And now we have another memory we will get to laugh about for years to come. 

(*Thanks to Kristin for the breadstick bag comment.)

(**Please no checking of grammar on this one - too many compound subjects, verbs, sentences and more.  Think Paul from the New Testament - he wrote some very loooong sentences!)

Midnight at the Dentist Office

My boys have a thing about laser lights.  For the last few years they have loved them.  Lately they shine them on the TV, the walls, through windows, in the car, tease the dog, the cats and come as close to shining them in someone's eyes as they possibly can before I holler at them to stop.  On Christmas Eve one of them snuck them in his jacket pocket and, on our way into the church, he lasered a house waaaayyy across the street.  As he got close to the window, I told him to turn it off with this reasoning:  (in my momma knows best voice)

"You have no way of knowing who lives in that house.  For all you know, it could be a Navy Seal, and if he sees a laser on his wall, I bet he has already silently rolled to the floor, reached under his bed and pulled out his rifle and is even now looking through his scope to see who has targetted him, and he is targetting you back."  (A few years ago I read a fabulous book called Lone Survivor - about Seals - a m a z ing!!)

Gotta love those times when the illustration hits the spot.  Today was nothing like that.  It was more like a very wierd dream - all day long.  It all started last night or rather early this morning.  12:24 according to the police report.  The police arrived at 12:36.

For us, it started at 2am.  The doorbell rang, but we didn't hear that part.  Dale and I woke to the dog barking at the front door wanting to go out.  He has been doing that lately, so Dale stumbled to the door in his pjs, opened the door to let Rex out and got a good scare. . . Bethany from the office was standing there and talking a mile a minute.  "Office. . . window. . . stolen. . . police. . . alarm."  Those words came flying through the door before Dale, caught off guard, let go of the dog out, mumbled something about Rex wouldn't bite, and he had to go put on a shirt . . . and closed the door on the large policeman and little Bethany standing on our dark, cold front porch - with a ferocious sounding cuddly brown dog circling their feet.

Dale returned to the door, and I pulled myself out of my sleepy stupor to shuffle to the door as well.  I had heard Bethany, but was surprised to see the large quiet and grinning policeman standing next to her on our dark front porch. 

. . . Our phone wouldn't work, so the alarm company had drug Bethany out of bed from the other side of town to come and let the police into the office.  As she pulled into the development, there were police cars blocking every entrance with blue lights swirling brilliantly.  An officer approached her car and asked where she thought she was going, to which she cocked her head and said, "SERIOUSLY!??   - YOU called me!!" (as only Bethany can say), and he stepped aside.

Cops were everywhere, she said, and as she pulled into the parking lot; the one in charge handed her a special vest (so she wouldn't get shot?- this was surreal), got the key to the building and told her to get back in her car.  They cleared the building, and Bethany was asked to go in and look around.  As she walked across the parking lot, she saw something shiny at the corner of the building and was shocked realize it was a SWAT guy with a big black gun positioned at the corner of the building.  (All we can figure is that since the perpetrator went in through the window, the alarm company didn't have record of him leaving the building, so the police were acting as if he was still on site.)

As she walked in the back door, she said her face felt a little tight. . .  A lady cop looked at her a little oddly and said, "You really did just roll out of bed and come, didn't you."  Bethany shot her a "duh" look, to which the lady cop replied, "You've got some green stuff on your face."  Horrified, she ran to the bathroom to scrape the remains of the lovely mask she had put on her face before bed.

The lights came on in the office, and it was soon discovered that an intruder had smashed in a waiting room window, yanked a TV off the wall and went back out the same hole he had entered. 

After a while, someone asked Bethany if she had called her boss.  That's when they discovered our line was busy - had been since a boy had answered the phone and never hung it up.  Our cell phones are programmed to turn off at 11pm.  The officer in charge told Bethany she would have to ride in a squad car to go get her boss.  And that is how Bethany in her pajamas (and a sweatshirt) and the big grinning policeman ended up on our front ringing our doorbell at a little before 2am.  Inside we were lolling like babies sound asleep to the hum of a wonderful sleep machine and woken up not by the persistent door bell, but the dog, who we thought was just having middle of the night bladder issues.  Instead, he was being a good guard dog.  (Maybe we should let him sleep at the office at night.)

Dale said when he arrived at 2am, there were at least 6 policemen roaming the halls admiring my photography prints and saying things like,  "We didn't even know this building was back here."  Well, at least we are now on their radar.  And they like my pictures. . .  Though our new building is now "broken in" (quite literally) - I am relieved to know we have such dedicated men willing to come to our rescue if needs be.  To whomever took our TV, I hope your team loses the Super Bowl!  I think I'm gonna come up with a way to add to that horrible alarm that goes off, the sound of a shot gun being cranked back - CA TCH TCH CKKK!!!!  I bet he'd leave a little bit more than finger prints getting back out that broken window!

And that was just the beginning of the day . . . to be continued.

Jeans made for 5 inch heels?!?! Anyone!?!?

I had to hem a pair of my jeans today, and I actually have 1 or 2 more that need hemming.  This is a first for me.  I'm tall.  I have tried to tell myself it's because my height is in my body more than in my legs, but that doesn't make sense since for the last 20 years of being the height I am now, I haven't had to hem jeans before now.  My petite mom figured it out quickly.  She said they are being made to be worn with 5 inch heels! 

Five inch heels look good on some people, but I have yet to meet someone who feels good in their five inch heels.  Maybe they exist, but some of us don't want to be five inches taller than we are!  At 5 foot 8 inches, I would be a healthy 6 foot 1 in shoes that would keep my jeans from dragging.  And I would be looking down on most of the people in my world.  I already do that.  I wear 2 inch heels at the very most - and only if they are very comfortable. 

I have recently found two pairs of shoes that are joining my jeans in the "wear everyday" repertoire.  One is a pair of silver ballet flats the other a pair of red boots - also not much of a heel.  When I wear my jeans that are meant to be worn with five inch heels, my jeans drag with every step.  I feel like a teenage-wannabe when I really don't wannabe a teenager.  So that led to me FINALLY hemming my jeans. 

But before I could even get started, I had to go to the fabric store to buy some necessities that you need to hem jeans.  Since I have never had to hem jeans and as I have broken several needles lately on other projects, I got a special needle for sewing denim.  I also tried to find the right color to match that yellowish brown hue that is used to do all the top-stitching on denim.  Let's just say, I'll have to hunt a little more for that shade.  Mine is glowing just a bit from the fixed hem in one pair of jeans.

Now my question is, what does every other purchaser of jeans do with these extra long pants?  Very few of my friends sew.  Why, I ask, do such fads have to be so erksome to the everyday woman?  How about the short t-shirts?  Oh, dear, was I ever up a creek.  As I said before, most of my height is in my torso, so finding a shirt long enough was near to impossible.  I am so excited about these longer version that are out now, I'm storing up for when the fad goes the other way again.  But back to jeans, what do carpool moms do with ridiculously long jeans if they don't sew?  I guess we will soon find out.  Maybe they will cut them off and let them be ratty, give in and find some heels to prance around in (I don't think so) or let them drag as I was doing for a few weeks or roll them up?  Maybe we will bring back that crazy thing we did in the late eighties of pulling our jeans off to one side and then rolling them up twice. (I hope not.)

Well, if you are in need of new jeans, you may need to adjust your height according to whether or not you will be wearing those honkin' heels.  For me, I might have been okay in the "short" style of my jean, but I don't recall seeing any.  (Hunting for jeans that fit is another whole matter.)  Or, if you have a sewing machine, go invest in a denim needle and some thick thread yellowish brown in nature.  Who knows, maybe they will get us back to sewing yet.  Project Runway has made me want to sew again, but then I couldn't find material I liked- even asked Carol Hannah Whitfield when she was in my hubby's office over Christmas getting her teeth whitened where she bought material when she lived here. . . she said come to New York!  There is a whole block full of wonderful fabrics.  Oh, well, maybe I could go visit.  Until then, I think I'll be hemming my pants.