Blog fodder: the husband

Carl cracked me up the other day. It's okay. He knows he's blog fodder. In fact, we've been laughing at with one another for a very long time.
First, on the way home from work he called me from the gas station with the following news;
"Honey, hold off on making dinner tomorrow. I may be taking us out. Corndogs are on sale 2 for a dollar here! You need time to think about it, sure. No need to commit right now. Just mull it over."

Well! I may not be a princess, but I do have my standards. And corndogs at a local gas station don't cut it. No, I prefer the shay chicken salad served in triangle shaped containers with the plastic wrap on them. Because I'm classy like that.


And he cracked me up some more too.
That night we took down the tree (or more accurately, *I* took down the tree while he grocery shopped, what with that pine sap allergy and all.) Have you ever tried to bag a live pine? It aint pretty, folks. It's kind of like trying to diaper an elephant (if you've ever given that a shot).

Okay, so. Tree bagged and curbed. On to the needle cleanup (and if you're one of the three hundreds of people who regularly read my blog, then you know I wasn't up for another cleanup, a la my previous blog entry.) I grabbed the hand vac because if you know anything about live needle cleanups, they'll put a kill on your upright vacuum cleaner (it only took us three rounds of "take this beast apart and clean out the needle jams with a wire coat hanger" to learn that lesson). So, I was hand vaccing my little heart out when what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a kind hearted hubs and his "vacuum" quite queer.
I crawled along using my trusty handvac with the limp handle (Carl didn't tuck it far enough back on the shelf last week and it came crashing to the floor, the handle splitting on impact.) And as I did so, Carl joined me in my efforts, bringing his own vac of sorts.
Let us pause to allow the photo speak for itself, shall we?

Isn't she a beaut? No. NoooOo! Not the silver hand vac. Look closer.
The trusty Hilljack Handvac XLR.
Packing tape, if you will.
In all seriousness, he crawled beside me, Hilljack in hand, trying to assist with the needle cleanup. As if that weren't enough, he then went the extra mile. As I attempted to vacuum needles from along the baseboards he insisted, "Don't worry about that. I'll get it for you." Nothing says I love you like a doting hubby and his trusty Hilljack.
I love you right back, Babes. Kiss. Hug.

And now, as we begin the new year, do me (and you) a favor. Head on over to Mixed Bouquet and say hello to my friend Marilyn. Her New Year post will truly bless and inspire you.

Toni

Fun, fun and DONE!

Fun, fun! That's how the last 24 hours have been (And just for the record, I'm being snarky, folks.) Lessee...

-Went to Penn Station for dinner, where Brandon (who has been sick) gagged at the sight of food. Now, I have to say. It was quite funny to see our 1yo smiling and gagging all at the same time. It was even a bit funny when Carl and I got too engaged in chatting with our other kids (who wanted to sit at their own booth behind Carl) to notice that our 1yo got a hold of Carl's iced tea and was loading up on as much caffeine as possible while he could (with half of it spilling into his lap). But I wouldn't say it was exactly funny when he got this strange look on his face that left Carl and I with furred brows of confusion. Nor would I say it was funny that as we pondered, "Huh? What's that look for?" Brandon proceeded to chuck up 15 pounds of baby food and iced tea.
All over himself.
All over the high chair ("Mr. Penn Station dude, you might want to grab the sanitizer.")
All over the floor ("Mr. Penn Station dude, and grab the mop while you're at it.")
All over my shoes ("Mr. Penn Station dude, you wouldn't happen to have a spare pair of,....never mind.")
Nothing says delicious like a Penn Station sub served with the toxic aroma of baby yack. Nice!

***********************

-Went to Michael's to check out their after Christmas sale. All the good Gouda was already picked over, but I did find some smaller cheesy items in the dollar bins. I grabbed a few sticker and ribbon items for scrapbooking and headed to the checkout.

Scan. Wrong price.
Scan. Wrong price.
Scan. Dang it, wrong PRICE!
I began.

"Those items should all be on sale."
(scowling expression, then monotone) "They're ringing up full price for me."
"Well, I got them all from the dollar bins, so they should be 50 cents each."
"Uh huh. Well, they're not ringing up that way."
(bite tongue and proceed) "Uh huh. Well, they should be."
(sighs out loud, then picks up phone)"I'm gonna take care of this right now because I can see you're it's gonna be a problem all day." Dials extension.

"Yeah, Donna? We've got another sign reader customer here whose items are cheap to begin with and she won't just pay the flippin' dollars and get out of my face aren't ringing up on sale. She got them from the cheap, cheesy bottom of the barrel bins discount bins. Uh huh." (looks at me with that "we're talking about you" expression).
"Okay then, that's what I'm gonna do. Oh, and Donna? You'll need to pull those signs before I have more sign cops up here like this one a bunch of dissatisfied customers because of the error."

Error??? What error? They were Christmas items and there were signs EVERYWHERE that read 50% off. EVERY. WHERE.

You know, I think her digits were bruised last night after the angry plunking she did to type in my discount. But hey, a deal's a deal. If I had wanted full price cheap stuff, I'd have spent my money at Joanne (I have a discount card there, snicker snicker.) Carl says I needed to have a professional with me; one who knows how to read the signs and hold 'em accountable. I'm such an amateur by comparison. But (evil grin) I'm a great student of the master!!!

*****************************

-Carl woke me this morning before his shower, stating, "Did you set up the coffee last night?" He usually does it and had forgotten. Off I went, sleepy eyed, to put our morning pot on.

Icky, what in the world is that?

While making the coffee, I stepped in a big puddle of wet on the floor. Wet what? I dunno. It was bluish green in color. And it was about 3 inches from the baseboard under our kitchen sink. Not oozing out from under the baseboard. No water noted in the cabinets under the sink. Freestanding puddliness, if you will. But, what is it? I dunno. Puddles don't generally just appear. There must be a source. I didn't really think so, but,...cats do tend to be prone to bladder infections. Could it be?

Smell check.

Nope (thank goodness).

But,...what IS it? I still DUNNO! I clean it up and assume it must be a melted down Noodle. Silly assumption, I know. But one reaches for bizarre answers when trying to explain the paranormal (which I don't ascribe to, so that makes it REALLY hard to explain away).

Clean up mess.
An hour later, mess has...GASP!...reappeared.
(play Twilight Zone ditty now.)
OKAY THEN, just what kind of freakish blue-green puddle IS this? I again open the cabinet, this time with a flash light.
Holy haberdashery, Batman!
Oh well, too late to save the pressboard. I literally did a clean sweep. One gigantic swipe of my arm to clear the entire cabinet out. Then the mess. The soppy wet mess under the sink. The mess that was leaking out the front left joint where the base of the cabinet meets the cabinet front (and thus the freestanding puddle that kept forming about 3" out from the baseboards).

Dry. Dry. DRY! I blow dried the now spot-warped pressboard until I couldn't stand it anymore. So, just where was the leak coming from? Well, I'm no plumber (though I play one on tv). But it appears our seal is broken around our right basin, where it meets the drain. Where the rubber meets the road if you will (I'm losin' it, I tell you. I'm losin' it.) It still doesn't explain the blue-green though. Not at all sure what that's about. Is the dishwasher somehow involved? Could the little bit of water left in the sink overnight with a bit of green dishwashing liquid, cause that deep of a color on the floor? I dunno. I can tell you this, though. It put a serious cramp in our homeschool morning and now I'm just,...just,...done.
I'm just done.
Done cleaning baby yack.
Done cleaning bluish-green mystery puddles.
Done cleaning up the floor of bad attitudes at the after Christmas sales.
Just done already.
So if you find yourself in need of a cleanup on aisle 9, don't call me. At least not until I change into a proper pair of plumber pants.

Toni

THURSDAY THIRTEEN

Thirteen resolutions for the New Year 1. January: Get a job like Jarrod of Subway commercial fame. I'm going for a niche, so I'll try, "I gained 10 pounds by eating Coldstone Creamery icecream every week." Watch for me in future advertisements. 2. February: Lick the sugar frosting off all Valentine cookies that pass my way (it's okay; I'll have the Coldstone Creamery gig anyway). 3. March: Catch that Leprechan (the kids and I make a trap every year. We've never caught him, but we do seem to snag his gold chocolate coins every year.) 4. April: Make a point of playing in more puddles with my kids (and if we're muddy, so be it). 5. May: Resist the urge to plan a g'zillion summer activities. 6.June: Enjoy my most favorite month of the year to its very fullest. This will include several drives in the country and several picnics at a nearby dam. 7.July: Go to fireworks with Uncle Scot and Aunt Lori in the dinky town of Rochester. 8.August: Savor the last days of summer with my kids, especially when all the local schools start back so very early but we don't begin homeschool until after Labor Day. 9.September: Attend as many highschool football games as we can manage. 10.October: Make several MORE drives into the country before winter steals the beautiful landscape away and transforms it into one that's sometimes beautiful, sometimes dreadful. 11.November: Resolve to find the positives in the long winter ahead, and to embrace it. 12.December: Place Christ at the center of our Christmas. 13. Scrap 'till I can't scrap anymore. My goal is to complete 3 years of photos.

Visit other "thirteeners" here!

Toni

All is right with the world

Well, the gifts are all opened (Christmas evening after Daddy got home from work) and all is right with the world. I'm left with reflections of the season; what we did, how we celebrated, whom we celebrated. One of the special things our family got to do was to head home to Ohio for five days, returning here just a few days before Christmas eve.

We originally planned to make the 6 hour drive on Sunday the 16Th, but a big nor'easter was due in the night before. Enter plan B.

Carl was scheduled for root canal on Saturday after work (I know, a Saturday evening root canal seems a tad, what, bizarre). He finally called me at 8:20 pm, telling me he was done. We had been toying with the idea of leaving after his dental work. However, it took much longer than I had anticipated and so I suggested we wait until Sunday as originally planned.

Uh, that was before weatherman Waldo threatened 5 more inches of snow that night, also stating freezing rain would begin in about 3 hours. Given that I had shoveled the drive twice that day and packed lickety split in case we had to leave earlier than planned, I again concluded that we needed to leave at 9pm when Carl got home.

And so we did. It was raining hard when we left and the roads, while not yet icy, were "slushy". They cleared about an hour east of the city and we never saw another rain drop or snowflake the rest of the way. Carl tired out around Columbus (it was after midnight by then), so I drove the rest of the way home (2½ more hours). We didn't climb into bed at my parents' house until 3:15am, but we made it safely. All is right with the world.

The next four days were a dizzying pace of wonderful holiday memories in the making with family. On Sunday, we were quite tired from our drive, so we just hung out with my parents, drinking coffee, cappuccinos, etc. The kids were ecstatic to be at their Nana and Papa's house and ventured out into the snow for some "back home" winter fun.

Monday, we ran some errands and did a bit of shopping too. Scrappers, I found 12x12 solid scrapbooking cardstock, 18 to 25 sheets per $1.00, acid free. WOO HOO! Olivia helped her Papa deliver flowers for the florist he works for. They're two peas in a pod, I tell you. In the evening, we met my brother Scot and sis-in-law Lori at the county nature center where the grounds and woods are transformed into a winter wonderland. There is a train ride through the woods, hot cocoa and cookies in the fireside room, and of course the 20 minute walk through the woods to see all the sponsored light displays. It was so very nice to spend that time with my brother and sister-in-law. The kids loved that they didn't have to share Uncle Scot and Aunt Lori with anyone. And sure, we all froze (it was bitter cold) but we had too much fun to take serious notice.

Olivia, Cierah, Carl, Brandon and Reece on the train. You were expecting something bigger? Well, this baby has been known to fall off the tracks if anyone leans over, tumbling riders into the snow.

The kids in the woods (see Brandon in the stroller?)

Tuesday we had a matching meeting with CPS, where we were placed on adoptive status with Brandon. This *IS* a big and important step, as it means he is now in his adoptive home and waiting for a court date to finalize. All is right with the world. We then rushed over to the health department for TB tests (Carl hacked up a lung as he checked in; I can only imagine what the secretary must have thought, lol), then went out to eat with family before heading to a local holiday event to meet up with Reece's birth sister and her family. The English Tudor home where the event was held, is gorgeous. A former judge in our hometown donated it to the city when he died many years ago. In fact, Carl and I had our wedding photos taken there. The kids all got their picture with Santa, then had hot chocolate together before we parted ways. In all, there were 7 children, ages 8 to 1. Yep, that's one mighty big chocolate sugar buzz.

The tudor home where we met Reece's birth sister.


Wednesday we celebrated Brandon's first birthday and, to a lesser degree, mine. The kids baked cookies with Uncle Scot, Aunt Lori, Nana and Papa. They had SUCH a great time doing this. Cierah literally put her whole hand in the sprinkles and would put mounds on top of each cookie, which someone would inevitably have to fix "finish" for her. And the bell shaped cookies came with a potential side of Pango Pango, as Reece sneezed right onto one while decorating it. Which one? Nobody was sure.Lori, Cierah, Scot, Reece, Mom, Dad, Olivia and Brandon decorating Christmas cookies together.

The kids also opened some gifts after dinner. I had visions of holes in the drywall when Olivia and Cierah rode new scooters down the hall. And Reece was thrilled with the beautiful new bike his Uncle Scot and Aunt Lori got him. And both girls put Aunt Jackie right to work with their new craft kits. Little Brando got the cutest outfits, pjs and a few new toys from family. Uncle Todd gave a generous gift of his own. It took Carl and I over an hour to pack our van as much as possible for the drive home the next day, lol. It was organized chaos, sure. But it was the kind of life moment that is earthly perfect in every way; family together, health intact, no crisis pressing down, holiday spirit flowing, and did I mention family together? All is right with the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I don't wanna be 1." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


...Really, boxes make the best birthday gifts of all when you're one.

Thursday, Carl and I had to get our TB tests read before making our trip home. Olivia was doing her best to wear a brave goodbye face (she hates to leave and gets quite emotional about it). I'll add that she had about 7 band aids on her hand and one on her chest because she had insisted on chasing and holding my parents' Persian kitten the entire time. The kitten really is quite sweet. However, Olivia ignored our requests to stop chasing after it and, as she often does, she learned a lesson via natural consequence. I wish I'd taken a picture of the band aids because it was quite funny to see her covered in them.

Our time passed too soon (as it always does), so we said our goodbyes and made our way down the road. I was feeling nostalgic as we left, passing homes of childhood friends who are grown and gone like us. Reflecting on memories with my family and leisurely days with my childhood friends made it all the harder to leave, and yet all the sweeter to take in. And as I posted recently, we made our way past our old home in the country. It was the nostalgic icing on the cake. My cup was indeed full (not just half full either; it runneth over) but it was time to go back to the place God has identified as "home" for this season of our lives.

A boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do to fight off boredom for the long drive home (even if it means playing with a girl's pink Barbie computer).


As I now reflect, I'm reminded that God is so very able to meet our needs. For, even though we really miss so many people, places and things back home, we also have new and dear friends here in Indiana, a wonderful new church family, a nice home and new favorite places to make new memories. Life moves forward and there's an element of yearning and sadness that comes with it sometimes. But when I look at it through heaven fixed eyes? My glass truly is half full. And that's a Christmas gift I can treasure for all time.

Matthew 6:19-20
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal."

Toni

H.E.T..S.

I'm thinking of joining our local chapter of HETS.
I know.
I knooOOW!
It's time consuming and borders on making political statements.
But it's also quite prestigious and, really, a cause that my heart is passionate about.

You don't know what HETS is? Well, what rock have you been sleeping under? Everyone knows that HETS is Hoosiers for the Ethical Treatment of Sasquatch.
G'head, track down your local chapter and see how you can get involved.

From the Indiana Bigfoot Awareness website (and I quote);
Indiana Bigfoot Awareness Group is a "No Kill" website as it pertains to the intentional hunting or killing of a Bigfoot/Sasquatch.

I'm so glad I live in a state where citizens have carefully considered the future of this fictitious... superstitious... Willie Jo and the boys had a few too many on the porch last Friday night rare and mysterious creature.
Now, it's only a hunch. But I'm pretty confident the Loch Ness, Hogzilla and the Jackalope are also rightfully protected here.
Hoosiers! We're givers.

Toni

Boogie Man

Okay then. We were on our way home from church (no less), when dh made a stop at our local grocery store for a few last minute Christmas Eve dinner items. The kids and I listened to the radio while we waited in the van.

I reminded them for the umpteenth time that they were "sooooo lucky to have parents who grew up in the late 60's to early 80's."
Can you believe they roll their eyes every time I say this? Honestely, just what is that all about? ;)

So, KC and the Sunshine Band began to rock us out.

I'm your boogie man, I'm your boogie man.
Turn me on!
I'm your boogie man, I'm your boogie man.
I'll do what you want.

Only, when you're 6 years old (a la little man Reece), this song takes on a different meaning. For instance, I learned today that Boogie Man is a funny song. And I mean a very funny song, y'all. After all, any song about boogers (as Reece erroneously gathered) is sure to make a 6yo boy giggle. Seriously, throw in some misunderstood lyrics? Uh hem, well now,...just you try and stop my boy from gigglemania. You see, the following is what his ears heard (and sang...and pretended to act out).

I'm your boogie man, I'm your boogie man.
Turn me on!
I'm your boogie man, I'm your boogie man.
Chew what you want.

Oh, the giddiness of childhood!

Toni

I'll be home for Christmas (if only in my dreams)

We just got back from spending some time in OH with my family. It went by waaaay too quickly, as it always does. If you have never moved away from family, then you might not understand just how hard it is to live just 25 minutes from them one day, then a 6 hour drive away, the next. I'll post more about our visit soon, including some photos too. For now though, I thought I would share something with you.

If you know me from blogland or real life, then you know I'm a country girl at heart. No, I was not raised in the country. My parents teased me several times through childhood with the possibility of moving to the country but sadly we never did. I was the only city girl I knew who was in 4-H. I was the only city girl I knew who begged my parents to let me volunteer at a riding stable the summer I was 13, in exchange for free room and board in a camper parked near the stables. I routinely took quiet walks down a path "across the creek" (as we called it), as it passed a cornfield and ended in the wide open space of a church's back lot acreage. It was my getaway spot and I treasured it.

The country is a spiritual comfort to me. It calms me, soothes me, makes me feel closer to God than any other place I've been on earth. And for seven sweet, wonderfully sweet years I lived there. We bought 3.5 acres and built a home there. My deck and back windows faced west. An unobstructed view of the sunset every single day. In winter, sunsets fell on silken flats of undisturbed snow. The reds and oranges would dance across the glassy surface in a brilliant, warm light display that captivated me.

And the lovely creatures. Deer. Rabbits. Groundhogs. Skunks. Cows and horses grazed just two doors down, as did a few goats and many barn cats. I could sit on my full front porch for hours on end to watch the farmers hard at work in the fields across the road, preparing the soil, planting, and finally harvesting in the fall. The combines. Oh how I LOVED the combines. Some girls love jewelry. Some love clothing. Me? I truly loved the combines. I would gladly spend 4 or 5 hours riding my lawn tractor, taking pleasure in the simple accomplishment of freshly cut rows of grass. But to see the combines meticulously clearing rows and rows of crops at harvest time was absolutely wonderful to me. As I said, country girl at heart.

Now, where was I headed with all this? Oh yeah. On our way back to Indiana, we head south, directly past our old home in the country. We always drive by to catch a glimpse of what once was, to drink it in (if only for a moment) before returning to the suburban life God has called us to during this season. As we passed, I decided to film the "strip" of 11 houses or so that made up my stretch of road in the country. Each home had a similar lot (3+ acres). What was truly beautiful was the coincidence of the song that played on the radio as I filmed. Listen to the line that plays just as we come to a stop in front of our former home. How God blessed me through that "coincidental" moment. Enjoy!

Toni

You'll never guess who I ran into today.

Okay, so! I was moseying through the Dollar store tonight, looking for stocking stuffers and whom should I run into? Why, Mr. Shumway of Big Doofus blog fame. Seriously. I know his name rings a bell for most of you. And for the few who are in the dark, Mr. Shumway is married to Miss Sniz, my dear online AND real life BFF. He had left a message on my cell phone just minutes earlier, asking my dh call him, as they had plans to watch the Bengals game this weekend on Mr. Shumway's Tivo.

I passed the message on to hubs and then?

A matter of minutes later, right before me, stood Mr. Shumway. It was like an episode of The Twilight Zone.
Check phone.
Message from Mr. Shumway.
Pass message on.
Mr. Shumway appears out of nowwhere.
Do do, do do. Do do, do do.

Btw, he was successfully managing 3 adorable little girls in the blazing heat. Oh sure, it was a frigid 30º outside, but in the Dollar store? Well, let's just say one could spend an hour in there and come out minus some water weight. It was smokin' hot and I figured either their thermostat was malfunctioning or I had a nasty case of, oh, say, Malaria. Plus, I was tired and perhaps melting. Not a pretty combo and not the best way to stay awake for a shop-a-thon either (good thing they weren't selling hammocks for a dollar, or I'd have needed a nap from all that heat.)

Anyway, back to the Bengals game. My dh felt like a big heel because he had to cancel on the game night plans. Why? Oh, because one of his teeth dared to need a root canal at this most festive time of year. Really, what were the chances? I'll pause while you let that sink in for a moment.

Yep! At 5:30pm on Saturday, dh will be hearing the drill, drill, drill and the feeling the tug, tug, tug of a root canal (Hey, wasn't there a song by the Police that went something like, "Da drill drill drill. Da tug tug tug, is all I want to say to you,"?) Ah, the sights and sounds of expensive dental work Christmas. Oh, and he needs a crown too, which okay, sometimes is necessary. But sheesh, according to our insurance plan you better choose your toothache battles carefully because they'll only pay for one (count carefully), that's right, O-N-E crown in a 5 year period. ONE. That does it. I'm only feeding Carl mashed potatoes and oatmeal for the next five years.

Who the heck performs root canals on a Saturday at 5:30pm, you ask? Why, Immediadent. Hopefully, it'll be a licensed dentist and everything, especially since Mr. Shumway enlightened me that pliers and Advil might work we had better options within literal walking distance and just didn't know it. It's just that when I picture dh at Immediadent, I hear Buzz Lightyear's comment about the evil Sid playing like a broken record in the back of my mind ("I don't believe that boy ever went to medical school.") Now, I do realize I'm not being very objective and that the dentist may be fully competent to do the root canal. I guess it's the RN in me that feels the need to size up the care specifics.

Mr. Shumway is a very thoughtful person, btw. He was going to have Skyline Chili for the game since it's a big Cincinnati thing and dh is the all out Bengals fan. Only, now I have to laugh because I picture what might have happened if he went to Mr. Shumway's house anyway after the root canal. I see slurred speech and chili drool. ROFLOL! I crack me up. In all seriousness though, I know dh was looking forward to hanging out with the guys. And of all things, a stinkin' root canal.
On a Saturday evening.
At Christmas.
I'm really not making this stuff up, folks. It happens in my life.
Mr. Shumway as my witness.

*****

And as a sidenote, my Reece is upstairs doing "banga banga" as we call it. He's a head banger who sometimes falls to sleep by bouncing his head on the pillow. Sometimes he even hums a catchy tune, as he's doing right now. His banga song of choice?
"The rain came down and the sun came up, the rain came down and the sun came up." Sunday School grads will know this song as The wise man built his house upon the rock.

Toni

The Spirit of Christmas

Ah, the spirit of Christmas. Even the sound of it is divine. And it is only through the profound love of the Father that we have the Son, Emmanuel, God with us, to reflect on at this most beautiful time of year. Don't miss the chance to revisit the heart of Christmas and to offer a praise to the Father for giving us His Son, Jesus Christ, the CHRIST in Christmas. It goes WITH saying that this is the true spirit of Christmas.

Okay, now. As for the "merry" in Christmas, I've posted a few things this past week. There was the tree hunting adventure. And the ornament carnival. And now, my beautiful and dear friend, Miss Sniz, has bestowed the SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS award on me.











"What is the Spirit of Christmas award?" you ask.

Quite simply it is those that have a generous and giving nature. Those who care about others. Those who have a kind word to say or a broad shoulder to lean on in the times that others need that. Those who display the "Spirit of Christmas." You can go here to read about the origin of this blog award.

Given that I looooove Christmas (because I looooove Christ), I am truly honored. And it's really (really) cool to receive this award from Miss Sniz because the blessing of her friendship has been one of the best gifts I received in this particular year from my Father in heaven. And just in case you don't know? Miss Sniz is my friend in the blogging world, yes. But this past summer we came to realize we lived less than 2 miles from one another. The result? She is my very dear friend in real life as well.

And now, I pass this award on to those listed below (and YOU too.)

-Scot over at Attracting and Feeding Birds in Your Yard.
While his blog focus is on birds (and he does an absolutely stellar job of providing really useful information about them), I can tell you firsthand that this guy LOVES Christmas. And I can tell you he demonstrates the spirit of the season in many wonderful ways. I can tell you this because he's my brother. Please do me a big favor and stop by to encourage him as a new blogger.

-Dionna at Using My Voice (because of her fun carnival, but also because she has posted LOTS about Christmas recently.)

-Dee at Just Another Day in Paradise (because you can't miss the flavor of the season at her blog either.)

-Missy of The Three Olivo's (for her candid and often humorous sharing of the season.)

-Julia at A Piece of my Mind (because I absolutely love love love this post and Julia's creative mindset is a gift to me as well.)

-Barb over at A Chelsea Morning. Um.....let me just say this. If Santa were a woman, Barb would be it. You'll want to pour over her blog to find the many (many) Christmas related projects she's completed. You'll quickly discover that not only is she funny and well loved, but she's also nothing short of the energizer bunny. Visiting Barb's blog is always uplifting for me.

Toni

These Are a Few of my Favorite Things

We went to Holiday lights at the Zoo last night.
In the rain.
The "90 percent chance of rain" rain.
Um,...we didn't beat the odds (shocking, I know.)
And yes, those are real sharks swimming by. The kids got to touch some too.
(See our raincoats? Clampetts.)









Party pooper!

















I love this candlestick. I made it. You can too. It requires a retro lamp fixture that you take apart, then glue the plate to the base (with epoxy or another strong glue). Add a candle to the top (the big candles look great but I didn't have one handy) and voila! The more retro the lamp, the better.



Okay, so. I discovered a REALLY FUN carnival started by my new blogging friend, Dionna. I even took it a step further here, because ya know, there are some ugly ornaments on my tree. Do visit her blog to see how you too can participate. And now, without further ado...

The 2007 TONI'S FAVORITE CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS awards!
FOURTH PLACE:











My fourth place winner is more of an idea, not the ornament itself. It's about buying an ornament annually for each of our children, and one in remembrance of Carl's mom who died of cancer back in 1995. This is one of the many ornaments we're collecting for our children.

THIRD PLACE:












I love this ornament for several reasons. First, it's CUTE! Next, it was created by an Alaskan artist and is a souvenir from our cruise to Alaska back in May of 1999. And finally, it symbolizes a time in our lives when God's hand was about to move in an enormous way. The week before we left for that cruise, we said goodbye to two foster children who were reunited with their birth parents. The day we got home from that cruise, we had a message on our answering machine. The message informed us that the mother of our foster children was making an adoption plan for her unborn child, and she asked our agency if we would adopt her baby. We were literally and totally blown away. That baby is now our oldest daughter. Needless to say, this ornament is precious to us.


SECOND PLACE:










These two ornaments (the star and the peppermint candy) were made for me by my grandmother in her advanced years. I actually have about 12 handmade ornaments from her and they are earthly treasures.

FIRST PLACE:











Is it awesome or what?
Don'tcha wish you had one? You know you do.
Oh, stop frantically searching Ebay, folks. It's truly a one of a kind. Priceless!!!
Whaa??? What is it??? Aw, c'mon now. Don't let envy blur your vision. Why, it's the North Pole, of course. Created by moi, yours truly, ME, back in the first grade. Look carefully and you'll see that it's a split level (just like my house back then) with a window and a door, complete with door handle (though, silly me, I should have known that Santa only needed a chimney to come and go). I know. I knooow! It rocks!!!


AND NOW (drum roll please), a few of the WORST ornaments on the tree.














There are no words! She's missing an eye, for crying out loud.





Um,...need I say more? He's,..he's...what, scary? YES! And why are these still on my tree? Let's just say, I've been outnumbered by a family of ornament pack rats. Wah wah!






Now it's your turn. With Christmas close at hand, I challenge you to share the best and the worst of your holiday splendor as well. Let me know where to stop by when you've posted. Don't forget to stop by and add your name to Dionna's Mr. Linky as well. She came up with a really fun one, y'all. Now jump in!

Toni

Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree

Goodness, the Christmas season is keeping me "busy, busy, busy" as Professor Hinkle would say. Thus, the cobwebs on my blog for a season. Now, before I get a few words (or so) in about our Christmas tree, I must first ask you to stop by sweet Becky's blog, Blessed With Olive Plants Around My Table, and read up on her,..well, you'll just have to trust me. Need a good laugh? Then just head over there. She'll deliver, I promise.

Okay, so. Yesterday we cut down our Christmas tree. We saw the pricing list and knew we wouldn't be paying for a Blue Spruce or a Douglas or Fraser Fir. Because, um, OUCH! Just couldn't justify the additional cost. So the tree guy pointed us in the direction of the Charlie Brown trees and off we went. It didn't take long before Carl was sharpening his forestry skills and admiring a particular group of trees.

"These are nice. We should be able to find something here."
"Yeah, but honey, I think those are spruce. No, maybe they're not blue spruce, but what if they're one of those, you know, fir trees? I don't want to get the wrong one."
"Well, I'm sure this isn't blue spruce and I don't think it's a fir either."
(Toni, doubtfully) "Hmmm! I dunno."

Back and forth we debated until I came up with a brilliant solution (hold on, you're gonna love this.) I found a lone bough lying in the snow, picked it up, handed it to Carl and said, "Go ask the tree man what this is."
You knooow I got "the look." But, realizing we had talked ourselves into complete confusion, Carl was off and back in no time.

White spruce.

We chopped down a white spruce. Fat little bugger too. After we hollered our annual, "Timber!", the kids took a candy cane off the Christmas tree in the little cottage where we paid. Reece said, "This candy cane, when I open it mama,....when I eat it, do you want a lick?" Now how could I resist a lick of my 6yo's sticky, messy, licked up Christmas candy cane? Really, it's those very moments of childhood that slip through our fingers like the watercolor ponies Wayne Watson sang about that I'll miss most.

The kids had such a blast decorating the tree today. Our annual tradition includes playing Randy Travis' Christmas CD while decorating. No, we're not big country music fans, but we used to be (back in the Garth Brooks, Randy Travis era.) So, Randy crooned while I attempted to put the lights on. Don't even get me started on how many times I wrapped and unwrapped, wrapped and unwrapped, wrapped and unwrapped those branches in lights.

Clockwise and counter clockwise.

Circles and dizziness for the better part of 30 minutes. And Carl has pine sap allergic reactions so he couldn't take over. Though I must say, I was close to handing him a shot of Benadryl with a smile and a cheering section. I did finally get the lights on. And gee, it only took one, two, three, four passes. Oh, I sooo wish I could tell you I'm kidding, but truth be told, it took four stinkin' rounds of "Put 'em on, take 'em off," before I got it right. I also spent the next hour quickly vacuumed any fallen needles from the carpet. All together now. "JOY TO THE WORLD!"


Our fat tree (complete with town and nativity underneath).













My Olivia doesn't build snowmen. No, Octopus is much more fun. She even used pinto beans for suction on the tentacles.






Poor Cierah had some challenges to overcome. Click on the image to note her puppydog eyes and bootless foot.






Nothing says trouble like a 6yo boy with a snowball in his hand.









My little monster man.













We're a serious bunch, we are.

Toni

'TIS THE SEASON

Yesterday we decided to take the kids to get pictures with Santa at our outdoor shopping mall. Now, I don't know if those ol' Alberta clippers even reach this far (they hit Cleveland like a freight train gone mad when I lived there) but it sure felt like an Arctic blast from parts north to me.
Especially when we had to hoof it from our van to the little Santa bubble in gale force winds and freezing temps, with four kids in tow. "What's a Santa bubble?" you wonder. Well, it's a sort of mini overheated biosphere where Santa roasts in his big red suit and kids inhale germs like happy gas strapped to the anxious mug of a reluctant dental patient.

On our way in (by way of the Arctic circle), Reece inquired as to whether any orphans would be working with Santa.

"Orphans??? What's that?"
"You know, Mom. They wear funny clothes and curled up slippers."
"You mean elves? They're elves, baby. Not orphans."
"Oh yeah. Elves."

So, we enter the Santa bubble and immediately realize that we left our own camera at home. No big, you say? Well, actually it was a big deal. For one, they had a humongous oversized rocking horse.Olivia (age 8) looked like Lily Tomlin as Edith Ann on Laugh-In. She perched herself on that huge horse with her tights and patent leather shoes, long wool coat and blonde locks. It was SUCH a Kodak moment, as she'll consider herself "too grown up" to climb up there in the near future. Sigh. No camera.

Another reason we wanted to have our own camera is because, folks, Santa's pricey. $20 for two stinkin' 5X7's is absurd. Yes, we paid it, but what a racket. We had actually intended to buy the two shots, but had also planned to take a few of our own. Bummer. So, we get all four kids ready and Brandon (11 mos) who had not been fearful of anyone up to that point, decided that Santa Bubble is the perfect place to begin a stranger danger campaign. He looked back cautiously at the bearded man, who said, "Hi, little fella," in a thick Kentucky accent and,........"Whaaaaaa!" It was on. Brandon did not have any intention of cooperating. The girls snapped frantically, waving jingle bells and speaking in high pitched Santa tones that only made it worse. Thankfully, one shot caught Brandon during a much needed inhale and, well, at least he only looks terrified and not outright bawling, right?

After the photo was deemed acceptable (and they gave us a "Clampetts" look because we weren't dropping $50 or more on a "package deal"), Santa asked the kids what they wanted. Reece, who loves round objects, responded.

"I want a new marble tower and a ball thing."

"Marbles and balls. Mmm-hmm. And, anything else?"

"Um," Reece thought carefully before abruptly concluding, "Mommy said only two."
Alrighty then, Mama's got more clout than Santa.

And Olivia was not happy that Santa didn't hand out candy canes, but instead handed out tiny containers of, what else, bubbles (remember, we're in the Santa bubble) and a cheap whistle. Liv's whistle wouldn't blow and she spouted off, "And the guy's supposed to make this stuff?" to which her Dad responded, "Why don't we go back then, and you can bag on Santa for passing out cheesy toys." Gee, I'm glad she doesn't get her sarcastic edge from moi.






















Now then, y'all might remember the beautiful Christmas scene that Miss Sniz recently posted, complete with a gorgeous blazing fire. Well, net pals, I'm not about to be outdone, not even by my dearest Sniz. I had dh fire up a yule log for me too. Isn't she a beauty? Complete with a Cincinnati Reds stocking rested against the hearth for that perfect holiday touch.

















Nothing says classy like a cardboard fireplace, folks. Sure, you might be thinking, "Cheap cardboard," but you'd be wrong. It was previously owned cheap cardboard (because we're green like that, and besides, we've got a "keep up with the Sniz's Joneses" reputation to maintain.) In all seriousness, our kids are getting an absolute kick out of the "prop" (as they called it). Reece was sticking his head up the chimney, realizing it dead ended at the faux mantle. His inquiry? "Will Santa still get burned on these flames if he comes in this way?" No lightbulb moment there.

Finally, we put up our outside lights tonight after the kids were in bed. It was a crisp, cold night but the air was still and the night was wonderfully quiet. We got to work and pulled it off without too much effort. However, I did almost blow out an ankle when I slipped out of our landscape stones and down the sloped grade of our front yard. Carl congratulated me for not breaking anything, while I assured him the pulled back muscle should heal nicely after a few nights of heating pads and a round (or so) of Ibuprofen. If you don't already know this about me, I have a way of entertaining my neighbors when I'm outside. My klutzy exit from our landscape bed tonight was no exception, though I'm fairly certain no one saw.

Hopefully, they didn't see me cutting back hostas and pulling up and bagging their dead leaves either (seeing that it was 30º, 11 o'clock at night, December and snowing; perfect weeding weather, don't you think?) But it was all worth it, truly, because as we finished up, the most beautiful, soft falling but substantial December snow began to fall. I got caught up in the ambiance of the lights, the silent night and the peaceful snow for just a moment, just long enough to thank God for such simple pleasures before heading inside to thaw.

















Now let me just say, when it was said and done, my hands were numb and as red as a beet. I spoke like the rusty Tin Man and my teeth were chattering like crazy. Carl thoughtfully made some much needed chai tea while I warmed myself by the fire.

What?

Oh yeah, right, right. It's only a faux flame. Well okay then, so I indulged in warm thoughts as I sat by my fake (but cozy) fireplace and soothed myself with a cup of deliciously hot chai tea. Indeed, 'tis the season.


Luke 2:8-14
8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. 12This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." 13Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 14"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

Toni

A measure of progress.

My Reece and Cierah are 14 months apart. Most of you know that we homeschool, and I began this year wondering where best to place them in phonics instruction regarding "grade level" (a term that homeschoolers define a bit differently than traditional schools, as it's easier to simply work at "student level" when you operate a one-room schoolhouse.)

I began the year by placing both children in the same phonics program, noting that Cierah (age 4) was not capable of working the same pace or skill level as her big brother. Reece was already blending three or four letter C-V-C words (consonant, vowel, consonant). Cierah could sound letters out, but not blend them to form words (though was she ever was motivated to learn). Still, I was able to teach most of the phonics curriculum simultaneously to both students, modifying the reading and practice of learned skills to their individual levels.

Worked well.

So well, in fact, that Cierah has decided in the past 3 weeks to just step it into high gear and pass her older brother up in her reading ability. He hasn't noticed (yet) and I am careful not to draw attention to it, as he will likely be sensative to being passed up. He's just a sensative little guy in general.

I feel so blessed to have given my children the gift of reading. My Olivia is a book-a-holic, reading constantly. And she enjoys some very rich subject matter as well, like accounts of Harriet Tubman or Helen Keller. Reece, while not yet reading fluently, has immersed himself in books for a very long time, pouring over images and asking tons of questions. And now 4yo Cierah is discovering her own passion for the printed words on the page.

You know, I reaaally had to laugh tonight though. We were driving around looking at Christmas lights with the kids (yes, folks, that borders on entertainment for a single income family.) The kids were so excited to take it all in, talking out of turn and raising their voices to be heard. It all blurred together for me in a beautiful kind of "freeze this moment in time" symphony. I was drinking it in, when Reece noticed a particular inflatable lawn ornament and exclaimed with hurried excitement, "MOM! DAD! That sign said Haw, Haw, Haw."

Haw? Huh???

I looked back at the house that was quickly disappearing from view and spotted the object of Reece's excitement; the lawn ornament that Reece had read aloud, so proudly demonstrating his phonics skills. For indeed, it would read "Haw, Haw, Haw" based on the phonics rules he's learned thus far. But in reality?

HO! HO! HO! (Okay, now you can "ha ha ha.")

Toni

A walk among friends.

Miss Sniz and I walked the neighborhood today. Well, back up. It wasn't exactly the whole neighborhood. More like the cul-de-sac I live on. I couldn't venture further because I still needed to care for my kids. So we made laps on the cul-de-sac in the 30-some degree weather. The sunshine was deceiving, and we quickly discovered it was much colder than it appeared. Didn't help that the wind was blowing too.

So Miss Sniz needed a few more layers and let. me. tell. you., she came to the right house We Clampetts H's know how to dress. For scarf selection, I had a black and silver fuzzy thingy or a black wool scarf that, given the amount of lint it sported, might have come straight from the sheep (there was that one homeschool fieldtrip to a sheep farm last fall.) Sniz knows how to style it, so of course she went with the fuzzy thingy.

For head cover, it was all about the ears. Folks, I don't "do" hats because when you have Roseanna Roseanna Danna hair, you don't stick a hat on your head and then survive the humiliation of removing it later on. Curly haired gals, can I get an Amen? So, I had a lovely pair of black ear muffs on. Not wanting Sniz to feel underdressed next to me, I naturally offered her my royal back up pair.

Bright red.

Yes, all I had to offer was a pair of reaally bright red ear muffs (which I'm thinking would have went just swell with her lavender gloves). However, when I fetched them for her, I realized they were covered in baby spit. Brandon had apparently found them and used them as a chew toy teether. Normally, they wouldn't be available to him, but I had sat them out in anticipation of my kids playing outside while we walked.

Okay, so off we went, sporting some high falutin' outerwear accessories (because we're all sassy like that), determined to get our 30 minute power walk in in the cold. There were but a few setbacks, somewhat expected with littles playing outside within sight of us. First, we were but 5 or 6 houses down the street when I heard a bellowing, "MAMA!" from behind me. It was my 8yo wanting to know if she and Sniz's daughter could have gum. Okay then, it's 30-something degrees outside and my little Einstein thought it would be a good idea to run screaming coatless down the street after her power walking mama to get permission to eat gum. Hey, at least she sought permission.

Next, my 6yo son met us as we came back from the end of the street. He got in front of me and I put my arm on his back to adjust his poky pace to meet ours. Only, I occasionally forget this is a bad idea when a child has some motor coordination issues. Down he went, and came up tearful, thinking he might have skinned his knee. I spelled to Sniz, "He's going to F-R-E-A-K if he sees B-L-O-O-D." I prepared for the hysterics to come. Thankfully, nary a scratch. As we rounded the culdy and passed my house, Cierah, age 4, decided to set Indy pace with Franny and her baby stroller, pulling out directly in front of us. She was walking slow enough to reduce our pace, but fast enough that we couldn't seem to get by her.
"Mam, step out of the car." "Cierah, step aside for moment, honey."

And then there was the strange, grinning man who pulled over in his truck, rolled down his window and joked to Sniz and I, "You ladies are going to get dizzy walking around in cirles like that."
Huh??? Who the blivens was that? Sniz thought he might be my neighbor. Nope. I've never seen that grinning Chesser in my life. Odd.

Anyway, we finished walking and got to see our daughters sporting "Best friends" on their foreheads in permanent marker. Well okay, not exactly. It was permanent marker, but the words were written on clear Scotch tape. Brilliant "tattoos", don't you think? Why I didn't think to grab the camera, I'm not sure. I'm usually one to grab a quick shot of such sweet and simple moments.

And finally, in almost 18 years of marriage, I've only ever had to completely toss out a cooked meal once. I made a reaaaaally bad pot of pinto beans once and we just had to throw it out. And that "one failed dish" record has held for nearly 18 years.

Until today.

Today, I made a pot of chili before Sniz stopped by. I felt all proud of myself too, that I had prepared dinner early so I could focus on my battalion death march power walk with Sniz. Folks, it's clear to me now. I have genuine bean issues. This time, it was chili. The worst chili ever. I told Sniz, "It isn't very good," but Carl said it a bit more directly.

"BLECHHHHH!"
I do believe he actually wretched as he spit his bite into the kitchen sink and said, "That's na-sty."
And it was.
I was in denial until that moment but it was nasty. That is, unless you like your horse meat covered in beans and chili spices. Chili gone wild!

I'm happy to say Penn Station subs was a delicious plan B. Still, it's hard to watch your efforts literally go down the drain. But if we were meant to be a beanless people today, so be(an) it.

Toni

Clerk Patrol!

A test.
To work at the thrift store.
She was taking a test as a prerequisite to working there. Carl overheard a few questions.

"An item costs $9.50 and the customer gives you $20.50. How much change should you give back?"
You with me so far? They'll be making change on the job so let's see if some basic math skills are in place. Proceed.

"Now this next one's going to get tricky, so tune in. The customer gives you $11.25 and the purchase totals $21.30. How much change will you make? Careful. This is a tricky one."

You know, I have a solid education and I make responsible decisions most of the time. No, I'm not a candidate for Mensa but I'm no Chrissy Snow either. And I'm pretty sure my six year old would know the customer doesn't have enough money. Still, it comforts me to know our local thrift store hires only the best. ;)

Our local gas station, on the other hand, hires only the boldest. If I may...
Carl was paying for gas a few days ago. After sashaying back to the van with a dazed look on his face, he began.

"I never witnessed anything like that before."

I was already wondering what brought on such an expression, and now I was even more curious to know. He set it up for me.

"There's a young African American girl working the counter in there. A customer came in who appeared to be Mexican, spoke little English and with a very broken accent. He wanted to buy cigarettes and milk, and handed her a paper thin ID card."

Their conversation.

"I can't accept that. You need a valid state ID that shows you to be at least 35 years old."
"I have card."
"That's not a valid ID. I can't accept it. Do you have a state ID or driver license?"
"No. I buy smokes. I have card."
"Sir, I can't take that. It's,...what is that anyway? It's paper thin. It's definitely not a valid state ID or driver license."
"What you need?"
"I just told you. I need a state ID or driver license. They're much thicker, like this." (she whipped out a plastic card of some sort).
At this point, the customer said a few things in Spanish and a few things in English under his breath. The clerk responded by saying, "I'm not trying to be an %*&@% but I can't take that ID and I'm not about to lose my job over this."

The customer then used a tone and some foreign words that were clearly not nice, and accused the clerk of discriminating against him. This clearly made her very angry, because she shot back, "I. Don't. Care. If. You're. Black. Brown. Green. Or Yellow." And under her breath, "Don't make me come over this counter."

Oh no she dih-en't.

The customer then tossed a few expletives toward her and what happened next freaked Carl out.

She was no small girl.
She stood up, reached her hand over the counter with a big half circle motion, grabbed the customer's gallon of milk and barked,

"Okay, you need to get out of my store!"

Carl said she was very intimidating in her demeanor and the customer just basically put his tail between his legs and walked out. Carl has often dealt with some seriously irate customers of his own in the airline industry. Part of him (the sinful side he must surrender daily, lol) would love to get away with responding like that. I can totally see it.

"You need to step out of my ticket line. Don't make me come over this counter after you."

No, it will never happen because 1) he'd get fired and 2) he tends to avoid confrontation. I'm just saying. Btw, I could have easily told this story without mentioning nationality or race. However, it seemed relative to the story that the clerk was accused of discriminating. Her heated response told me she didn't appreciate the accusation at all.

And now, overheard in the H home recently.
-6yo Reece wants to go on a date with me to Joe's Crab Shack (please note there is a playground there and I'm sure that has NOTHING to do with his restaurant choice.) The two of us are seafood connoisseurs, while the rest of the family only tolerates it at best. So, he again mentioned today that sometime he's taking me on a date to JCS,..."but will you do the driving, Mommy?"

-Reece also acted up recently in a store, so I put back a spelling book he wanted and he pouted for the next 15 minutes (such a letter lover, lol). Anyway, he had a Wilson football in his hands this time. Again, he began his impish antics, so I warned him about his behavior. He answered, "I'll behave, Mommy." Determined not to lose his bounty again, he quickly added, "But this is coming home with us," as he laid down over the football.

-While praying for the Quechua Indian people this past week in homeschool, Reece wanted to lead the prayer. He gave us his requisite, "Bow heads," and began.
"Dear Lord, we lift up the....Mommy who are doze Indians again?"
"The Quechua, honey."
"Oh yeah....the Quechua Indian people. (pause, pause). Are they Indians, Momma?"
"Yes, Reece. They are Indian."
"Okay. They are Indians, Lord."
No doubt, God was glad Reece clarified that for Him, lol.

-Reece solved the following math equation with great disappointment.
7-2=5
He built it with manipulatives (math blocks), thinking the answer was going to be 6, but realizing it was 5. His response? A disappointed, "Oh man! I thought it was going to be my birthday on that one." He just turned 6 a few weeks ago.

-Cierah, age 4½ was playing on the floor with the baby, who was crawling all over her. "He's cute mom. And fun. He's cute and fun, but,...we can't dog pile on him, can we???"

-And finally, as you know, my kids were elfed this week. Well, we elfed my parents as well and emailed it to them. Olivia was not happy about it. "Mom, that might have not been a very nice thing to do. You made my Nana into an elf and she's already short. It might hurt her feelings."

Toni

My children have been elfed.

It's true! You'll find them here, pretty much shimmying like they would on any other given day.

Toni

Working up to a new blog

I'm trying to get Carl to start a blog. Now, hear me out on the title I've come up with for him, and back up a few (hundred) paces with me before I get to the big reveal.

Recently, I found myself sitting in "mandatory" unnecessary training classes for our adoption (g'head, wrap your brain cells around that for a minute; mandatory unnecessary). Anyhoo, during those 8 hour Saturday classes (which covered EXACTLY what we already trained for when we were licensed previously), I was given a packet of adoption paperwork to begin filling out. One paper included questions to be prepared to answer when the homestudy worker came out to interview us. One question in particular made me giggle.

It read, "Name one thing you would change about your spouse if you could."
HUH???
Now there was a day, know what I mean? A day where I could have whipped out my grown up Christmas list of things hoped for. But c'mon. After eight years of dating Carl, followed by 17½ years of marriage, plus growing in the knowledge of what Mark 10:7-8 means, the question truly seemed absurd to me. If I'm still pondering how to change him after all this time, there's got to be a chink in the armor somewhere.

So, Carl and I talked about this question and we did come up with an answer. It took some pondering, but okay, yes. YES! There is one thing I would change, and I was prepared to give the answer.

"Name one thing you would change about your spouse if you could?"

"I wish Carl would stop falling asleep in the chair every night while watching sports."

Yes, net pals, that's it, my marital thorn. It drives me batty. I have hounded him about this one sore spot for years.
His response?
Z-z-z-z!!!
I ask you, what is sooo difficult about acknowledging, "Hey, I'm tired. I think I'll turn off the t.v. and head off to bed."? Well, for whatever reason, Carl just cannot do that. Apparently, he's too busy sawing logs and catching Z's (and as Carl and I affectionately say when one of us plucks the other's nerve, "Still love ya, honey.")

Now then, the two of us do share the same quirky sense of humor, so we agreed that Carl has one lil' thing he'd change about me as well.

"Name one thing you would change about your spouse if you could."

"I wish my wife would quit nagging me about nodding off in the chair at night."

We thought our responses were quite comical. The social worker? Not so much, lol.
But the truth is, and to quote Forrest Gump, "We're like peas and carrots." We fit. We're one. And we found the "change your spouse" question, well,...silly.

And that brings me to Carl's blog. I want him to jump in. So far, he hasn't been moved to fire up the ol' digits on the keyboard. But today I tempted him just a bit more. Because today,...today I came up with a great title. Are you ready?

Narcoleptic Dad.
Living life's greatest moments one fragment at a time.

Isn't it perfect? He's certainly fodder for such a title and I know it won't be difficult to capture the perfect picture for his blog header.

Mark 10:7-8 (NIV)
For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.' So they are no longer two, but one.

Toni

Feisty's in the house.

When I worked as a cardiac RN, my favorite patient population was the elderly. For so many reasons.
They were often very grateful for your care of them and weren't shy about saying so.
They could have the sweetest sense of humor.
They generally were not fearful, so there was a peace about them.
They were wise and filled with wonderful stories from days gone by.
And when they were, on occasion, confused or combative, my heart was stirred to treat them with extra measures of dignity and grace. Hands down, I enjoyed caring for the elderly the most.

In fact, my daughter seems to have inherited this tender spot from me, as she is quite excited about her upcoming homeschool field trip to simply spend time with the elderly in a local nursing home. We're both looking forward to it and I know she'll be blessed by the residents as much as her youthful presence blesses them.

Now, all that being said, there is one other point that comes to mind when I recall my days as a nurse who loved her elderly patient population. Feisty! Some elderly folks can be terribly feisty. You really have no choice but to admire chutzpa when you see it all flared up and glowing in their eyes and, well, tonight I came face to face with Grannie Chutzpah herself.

We stopped at Arby's to grab some dinner. You would too if you had free milkshake coupons, right? (I'm a giver. Enjoy!) So anyway, we were headed for the entry door with our four children when we noticed Grannie slowly shuffling her way to the door from a bit farther away. Our kids love to hold a door for others, so they were pleased to help when we asked them to step aside and let Grannie pass first. Carl held the outer door and Olivia held the inside door.

Grannie? She never made eye contact. Never said thanks. I figured she was just cold. Or maybe just beyond her days of being interested in formalities. In any case, there was nary an acknowledgement that we had been first to the door but forfeited our spot so she could go first. And not only forfeited, but actually WAITED in the cold night air for her to shuffle hurry up and enter the restaurant. Nope. Grannie Chutzpah didn't seem to notice.

As I waited inside for my thoughtful doorstops to rejoin me, I fully intended to step back and let Grannie pass to order first. After all, there was only one of her and there were a half dozen of us H's.

Well, LET. ME. TELL. YOU.

The nanosecond Grannie passed through that second doorway, she could have been mistaken for a model on Meatloaf's Bat Out of Hell album from the 1970's. Folks, she TAZ'd by me in a dizzying fury, her pace so wild that I literally felt a drag of cold air as she passed and urgently told my peanut of a 6 year old to move "NOW!" He had been in her way and I wasn't sure just how far she'd stomp before reversing her engines. She'd have plowed right over him at the rate she was going. It seems she was on a serious bee line straight for the counter to place her order, no doubt panicking that my moderately sized family might beat her to the beef.

Carl was giggling at how frail and small she had seemed in the parking lot, and how TOTALLY FEISTY she became once she perceived she could beat us to the counter to place her order. And he laughed even harder when I swiped a ladybug off her shoulder and she turned and shot me a cold glare that said, "Tangle tails with me, sister. I dare ya." Shiver! She was poised to take me on, I tell you. Not to worry though, because I make it a policy to never rumble with feisty little grannies in public places. But truth be told? I think she could have taken me.

And now,...an OH-SO-FUNNY blast from the past. Turn up your speakers and, TRUST ME, you're going to laugh (I picture Grannie Chutzpah in this audio).

Toni