Laryngitis of the Blog

I lost my voice for a while.

No, I didn't really have laryngitis. At least not the vocal kind (although, perhaps my children wouldn't have minded a bit). I've experienced what some might call "writer's block" but it was that and more. It spilled over into a lot of daily living. The outcome was that I've not been visibly "around" much here. In all honesty, I have been on FaceBook and Twitter, but those are so different. They can consume a lot of time--but they are different.

A couple things happened. Around October I was continually getting a sense that the LORD was telling me that I needed to take a break from my blog. Really? I didn't want to hear that. And I didn't want to announce I was taking a break, because I kept thinking I would "get better" and/or I wouldn't really be able to take a break after saying I was.

One problem with naming your blog "Joyful Days" is that there is a perceived (and maybe only by me) notion that my post should/will be positive. Naming my blog "Joyful Days" however was a challenge to myself. I wanted to start finding "joy in all things" I wanted to see joy in the tiny blessings as well as in the huge miracles. I still believe joy is a choice. I've seen what happens to people who choose to be the antithesis of joy--grouchy, depressed, angry, obstinate...in a word--me.

I've been hesitant to talk about my health issues--certainly not large and devastating, more of the chronic and persistent type...just annoying really, and in the grand scheme of things, very manageable. I didn't want to talk about them much because I didn't want my blog to go that direction even though those things are very much a part of who I am. I didn't want to define myself that way then.

But I have found joy is easier when you are addressing your health issues. My diagnosis of hypothyroidism was a blessing. Depression comes in many forms. I was experiencing sometimes debilitating depression--the depression that took all the energy I had to get out of bed. That kind and other depressions that are caused by chemical imbalances are not depressions that involve choice. But after my blanket of gauze was lifted I saw patterns I had allowed to creep into my life..."Poor me, life is unfair, people are mean..." Well those things are true sometimes, but the better choice is to see the "blessed me." I know I don't deserve all of the blessings I have and I've seen most often people are so kind.

Pre-diabetes has become part of my vocabulary. And when it did I finally chose to lose weight however I could get it off without surgery or medication (other than my thyroid medication, I guess). I've been hesitant to talk about my weight loss, but last year I lost 50 lbs. I've been worried lest I say anything and every last ounce will jump back on my body. My choice of diets has been debated in "real life" and while it is a choice due to my health issues, most people don't like the idea. My choice of exercise has taken a few hits too. Those two things combined with a few others molded my health choices last year. In all likelihood, now that I am a little more comfortable with them, I can share a little more.

My blog found some new readership and I had to decide how much personal information I can allow out here--both my personal "stuff" and my children's and the stuff that belongs to others in my life. I've been hesitant to talk about anything controversial or potentially offending.

Apparently I can be controversial and offending without intending to.

I've been hesitant to post about the reality of my days lest I sound like I'm boasting or worse whining--that "joyful days" thing again.

So, what have I been up to?

Exercise and diet. The road to "healthy" has helped me choose joy.

I found myself slipping a lot in my witness. Asking myself the "What Would Jesus Do?" question more often; asking myself if my action is "Christian" helps in finding joy--it is oftentimes inconvenient and takes a little extra thought--but the reality is liberating.

One more joyful thing is that I've been sleeping more. Part of my research shows that as you age you should get a certain amount of sleep. For quite a few years I worked overnights and still came home to school the boys during the day. That kind of lifestyle catches up with one sooner or later. So four or five nights a week I am in bed before eleven, which for me is huge.

I've pushed my children in ways I said I would not. I've allowed my children things I thought I wouldn't--still surprised when I realize how culturally deficient we are--why do I feel the need to apologize for that?

Driving lots of driving

Sitting and waiting.

Knitting

School--although I daily feel inadequate, and humbled by the children God has given me.

Trying to keep clothes clean and food on the table.

Facebook, Farmville, Farm Town, and Twitter.

Hopefully hitting "Publish Post" will help me blog again. I miss my blog. I miss my bloggy friends. Maybe I can get back on track...

Count it all joy,

Julie

Notes from the Sofa--Thank God for Sticky Shoes

Finished up Week 8 of our homeschool adventure this school year.

Week 8 was not the high point of this adventure.

I'm just saying.

Let's be real. Some days just aren't bouncy, happy, everything-is-fine days. Some weeks are better than others.

This last one wasn't.

In my quest to be a good (homeschool/ballet/music/fun/gamer) mom, I try to share the victories with my friends and family. Victories are fun. I would hate to scare someone off who is considering homeschooling. It is a wonderful experience. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

So if you are new to this blog, considering homeschooling, why don't you go visit some of the wonderful blogs listed on my sidebar? Many are homeschoolers, and if they're not, they are lovely people who will share wonderful cheerful thoughts about life and you will feel great about reading their posts.

What? You're still here...okay...warned.

But there are moments. Moments when I would like to push "Reset" for. So this post will be honest, transparent and offer full disclosure--okay, maybe not full, but partial disclosure...weeellllll maybe just enough disclosure that a couple people might read this blog again. What I am saying is that I will more transparent than the current administration--not hard. Yes, I'm in a mood.

Week 8 started off alright. The boys actually did some work in the car because we were traveling home on Labor Day. Boo wanted to know why he had to labor on Labor Day. I offered to let him off the hook and do it all on Tuesday, and, just wondering, what better was he going to do on a four hour car ride, anyway? He chose my way...good boy.

Boo is reading Finding Out About Everyday Things--an older Usborne book. It is more about the way thing used to work, but I think that helps to know how things have been and shows the advances in technology. He also finished Henry Huggins and is reading Elmer and the Dragon, the second book in the My Father's Dragon series by Ruth Stiles Gannett. He's enjoying it and it would be a great read for other readers from third to sixth grade.

Roo and I had an hour long discussion of slavery and the Civil War during that ride. Poor child was a captive audience. I usually don't go into lecture mode. But it was just something I was passionate about. He still loves me and promises to listen in the future.

Tuesday saw a pretty productive day, Roo had a three hour rehearsal thrown in at the end. Getting home after 8:30 was kind of a bummer for both of us. But all in all, it was a good day.

Wednesday included reading, as always. Roo is working his way through The Way Things Work. I was fortunate enough to pick up our copy at The Half Price Book Store for $1!! Roo has enjoyed the section on levers and has increased my knowledge by sharing all he has learned about levers. Fascinating stuff!! I love all these pieces of knowledge that they are thrilled about and want to share.

But Wednesday is where the slope started getting slippery. Boo woke up saying he felt bad and could he just sleep? I wish I could tell you my motherly instinct saw his discomfort and that I cossetted him and pampered him. But...she says hanging her head in shame...I cajoled him and tried to get him to pony up and do some work. No, I did not check his temperature...no, I did not do any of the good momma stuff I should have. Until later when I realized he had a fever. Ugh...now we both felt bad--he felt sick and I felt like a toad.

Wednesday was also the most miserable night the four and a half hour night at ballet for Roo--the first official night of the ballet school year. And Roo had no intention of missing that. In fact Boo thought he could make it to that. Hello?? Temperature?? Chills?? I may have been dense for a while, but once I catch on, I know what the right answer is.

Thankfully my hubby works from home and Boo was by then positioned on the sofa with an I Love Lucy episode and pillow and blanket. So Roo and I hauled down the road to ballet with our carpool kids. Where he worked hard and I sat and stewed about what a terrible parent I am.

We got home after 9:30. Ugh.

Thursday was an independent work day for Roo, because Boo and I sat for two hours in the doctors office for less than five minutes of face time so the doctor could confirm the diagnosis I was already convinced of--Strep.

Then it was a race home to drop Boo off with Daddy and Roo so I could run to the pharmacy (the wait for filled Rx's was over an hour). I dropped the prescription off, ran home ate lunch between 2:35 and 2:40, put make-up on (because I had not had a chance earlier) made the most excellent cup of coffee I have made in a long time, drank half of it...and proceeded to baptize the table (with all Roo's school work), the floor (the dog won't lick up coffee-drat), my favorite pair of shoes, my shirt, a calculator and a fabric pencil case with the rest.

My favorite shoes. It was almost too much. I went sticky-sticky-sticky all the way from the parking lot to the pharmacy counter and sticky-sticky-sticky all the way back. My husband tried to clean them up for me...but all night, I kept smelling Eau de café--wait--that was me.

Boo had another night at home, much to his dismay. Roo and I rushed to pick up the girls and made it to the studio on time. I got to sit with my favorite group of moms and another mom joined us. I've always enjoyed talking to her. She's another homeschooler, but her child is older and in advanced levels. She's got a lot of good insights, she's witty, smart and open. She chose to ask me, "If you sent your child to a public school and they got a bad education, you could always blame their teachers. Aren't you ever afraid that some day they're going to decide you missed something--and it will be all your fault?"

Gulp...

Well...honestly, yes, but today I still feel like a toad and I don't want to think about THAT! Yikes!

Truly, I enjoyed her company and hope we can talk again. Just maybe when I'm not feeling warty and all. Ya know?

Today, Boo is bouncing around the house. Much improved. Medicine-a-phobic that I am, I know that sometimes a good antibiotic is the only answer. I am grateful for both my boys who love me despite my warts. My husband who for some unknown reason still loves me and is home most days, and all the blessings we have.

Today, I am grateful that I started school early because if this had been my first week of getting back to school with the boys I would have melted into a pile of goo.

Today I am grateful for doctors.

Today, I am grateful I got to half half of the best cup of coffee I've made in a long time...it was better than none at all.

Heavenly Father, I thank you for sticky shoes and cluttered houses and unfinished work. I thank you for people who aren't afraid to admit to having weaknesses and help me to admit I'm not perfect either.

God of spilled coffee, red lights, long car rides, infections, old cats, hairy dogs, sunshine and rain, rushing and rest, LORD of unfathomable heaven and messy, dirty earth, I thank you for this week. I thank you for my family and friends, I thank you for holding us up when we are tired and holding our children when they are sick and their parents are slow to catch on.

Help me keep my focus on you. Help me to see my little inconveniences for just that and to laugh at the bumps in the road. Make me stronger for the truly difficult times and always let me feel Your Presence. Amen.

Counting it all joy,

Julie

Above sofa found here.

"Let Go, Julie! Just Let It Go!"

Most days this is what I see out my back door.



But one morning mid-summer, this was the view I had...through the door



and then...standing on the patio...looking at my neighbor's patio with my canopy bent and strewn about after the rains had gone.



We've lost a couple of these little canopies in the past year due to unexpected thunderstorms. At the end of last summer my impulsive husband and our dear friend hung on to one canopy during a sudden storm with winds easily topping fifty miles an hour. They saved the canopy. Scared the beejeepers out of me, but they did it.

I would never do something like that.

Or would I?



When I got up at six that day there were just a few wispy clouds to the west of us. We didn't think too much of it, even though the forecast threatened isolated thunderstorms. My ever so humble little patio looked inviting and fine. I went down to the husband's office to chat for a few minutes before I needed to do a quick change to take the boys to their day at summer intensives.

In less than thirty minutes the sky changed from overcast to green-black and the winds had picked up to at least forty mph, thunder boomed closer and closer. To quote a cliché the rain fell in sheets--it really did.

As we ran out of the house I asked if we were going to take the canopy down and my husband, already hanging on to one side of the canopy as it offered to launch to the next block said it was too late, to go in. I decided to try to hang on too. Did I really? I'm still shaking my head at that one.

We hung on and the winds blew harder, the rain fell hard and the canopy constantly tried to take flight. If I had jumped in the pool, my pajamas would not have been more soaked.

The winds accelerated and the lightning got closer.

And silly ole me hung on tighter and tighter. Willing to risk much over a replaceable canopy.

Finally I realized my husband was no longer hanging on, but shouting in my ear, "Let it go, Julie, Just let it go!" I'm a little stubborn. And didn't let go right away.

We both hung on a little longer, enough to help it bend over the fence instead of becoming the projectile it could have been. And then we dove in the house just as the worst of the storm hit. My children witnessed the whole stupid thing. And were terrified.

This was the worst of our storm damage, but up and down the block trees were stripped, a few were even snapped. Windshields were busted out and houses were damaged.

And I was willing to take a chance with wind and lightning for my canopy.

As I dried off, I pondered how symbolic that was for so many things in my life. I'd rather hold on to the unimportant things than let them go. Am I too busy cling to my chaff (collections, things, junk, opinions) and storing them in barns? Should I be more concerned with treasures that won't rust or burn away?

How often has God said, "Just let it go, Julie!" How long did I hang on?

What are you hanging onto these days? I don't recommend what I did. Really, really stupid (and I know stupid is not a nice word--but it was.) I've learned my lesson about canopies. Hopefully the bigger lesson will sink in too.

Let go,

Julie

Where I'm From...

I've wanted to do this poetry exercise forever. I saw several bloggers doing this over a year ago. But in traditional Julie procrastination mode it got set aside and put off and put on hold. But I thought it would jump start me back after my sporadic posting of late.

The original "Where I'm From" is by George Ella Lyon.

I am from hiding under the kitchen table, the grownups sitting around, above, telling stories and jokes and playing cards; from Dairy Queen on a hot summer night with a butterscotch dipped cone and walking two blocks to Mass before school in the dark.

I am from the tiny house on the corner, six blocks from Grandma’s and Grandpa’s, my little teal pedal car parked at the front steps. I am from the lilacs, petunias and a rosebush with tiny pink roses, the bleeding hearts and fuchsias hanging on the back patio. I am from the sandbox beneath the forked apple tree.

I am from Christmas Midnight Mass and keeping secrets, from Florence and Viola and Gammie. I am from “I’m fine!”, sweeping emotions under the rug and ignoring the pink elephant dancing in the room. From “act your age” and “grow up”.

I am from Latin Mass to Vatican II, incense to Kum ba ya guitar Mass and from altar rails to Holy Eucharist on the hand. From Sister Rosemary who loved me to Sister Mary Adrian who told me I was ugly. From CYC and TEC. I’m from Iowa, Italians, Danes, Native Americans, Irish, Cappellettis and SPAM.

From singing Paddlin’ Madeline Home to the checkout lady for my delighted grandparents, my ratty, stuffing worn thin baby doll draped over my arm, belting my song loud and clear; from beneath the dark canopy at my uncle’s funeral, his parents conspicuously absent because he died fighting in Viet Nam; from sitting in the comic book rack reading Tiger Beat and Archie comics and playing Barbies in the back room and aisles of the corner grocery that my parents ran—my mother during the days and my father at night after his “real job”; and the walk to Grandma’s house one winter night when one of my parents locked the keys inside and us outside. Snow was deep and falling fast. It was a very quiet walk.

I am from much perused photo albums under my mother’s bedside table and my grandmother’s photos loose in boxes amidst the buttons and blankets deep in the cedar chest…some never seen until recently. Dalmatians, Dachshunds, a lilac gingham dress on the swing set, red-white-and-blue jeans on horseback, a new outfit for Christmas each year, costumes and pretended excitement for the first days of school, Santa Claus and Mommie and Mommy kissing Daddy. Somewhere in there were vacations—camping and amusement parks, Royal Gorge, Pikes Peak and Mount Rushmore, traveling in the back of the station wagon staring at the sky. Many miles of years on Polaroids and Kodachrome.


If you would like to do the "Where I'm From" poem in the style of George Ella Lyon here is the form. Let me know if you do!!

I am from _______ (specific ordinary item), from _______ (product name) and _______.

I am from the _______ (home description... adjective, adjective, sensory detail).

I am from the _______ (plant, flower, natural item), the _______ (plant, flower, natural detail).

I am from _______ (family tradition) and _______ (family trait), from _______ (name of family member) and _______ (another family name) and _______ (family name).

I am from the _______ (description of family tendency) and _______ (another one).

From _______ (something you were told as a child) and _______ (another).

I am from (representation of religion, or lack of it). Further description.

I'm from _______ (place of birth and family ancestry), _______ (two food items representing your family).

From the _______ (specific family story about a specific person and detail), the _______ (another detail, and the _______ (another detail about another family member).

I am from _______ (location of family pictures, mementos, archives and several more lines indicating their worth).

Stuck in My Head...

Recueillement

Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-toi plus tranquille.
Tu réclamais le Soir; il descend; le voici:
Une atmosphère obscure enveloppe la ville,
Aux uns portant la paix, aux autres le souci.

Pendant que des mortels la multitude vile,
Sous le fouet du Plaisir, ce bourreau sans merci,
Va cueillir des remords dans la fête servile,
Ma Douleur, donne-moi la main; viens par ici,

Loin d'eux. Vois se pencher les défuntes Années,
Sur les balcons du ciel, en robes surannées;
Surgir du fond des eaux le Regret souriant;

Le soleil moribond s'endormir sous une arche,
Et, comme un long linceul traînant à l'Orient,
Entends, ma chère, entends la douce Nuit qui marche.

— Charles Baudelaire


This was something I had to memorize in college. Apparently it stuck. Some translations...

Back on the road...

...today through Thursday evening.

My visiting and responding have been poor. Hopefully I will be able to find a routine for the upcoming weeks.

Maybe...

Miss everyone...

Continued gratefulness for all your thoughts and prayers.

Julie

I Should Be Cleaning...

...but instead I'm on my computer from my still unfinished BLUE room. Love the blue!!

Waiting for my sister, nephew and niece to arrive. Let the mayhem commence.

All the cooking is outside--hamburgers on the grill, corn on the cob, veggies...plenty of food. Just nowhere to sit inside.

Anyone else want to come view the wreckage of my living room from my incomplete painting project? The canopy's up and the lawn chairs are out!

Off to find more jet fuel--ummm, I mean coffee.

Contrasts

I am used to falling asleep & waking up to the sounds of the nearby highway; motorcycles, jarring sirens, hot rods, smooth running cars, garbage trucks. It is a shock to fall asleep to almost total stillness and wake to the birdsongs. I love the country.

The boys have had their first encounter with recently born kittens. Lots of Benedryl, but apparently worth it. Fresh air, come and go in and out as you please. A far cry from having to keep an eye on them constantly, even in our own backyard.

No need for air-conditioning. Lots of breezed to cool the house. What a concept.

Small town, slow traffic...use the turn signal? Why? Everyone knows where you are going. Shop keepers, bank tellers know your name (and maybe your business?). A far cry from the anonymity of city dwelling.

Need to find the camera.

Taking My Eyes Off the Goal

The enemy whispered and I listened and allowed myself to be deceived, distracted.

I've allowed myself to wallow in worldly matters. Matters that will be burnt up like chaff--in as little as five years I will have forgotten perceived hurts and injustices.

I've allowed myself to become over-worried about personal concerns, for myself and for family members; health, emotional, and financial. I've allowed myself to dwell in the past and in grief that should be put aside.

A long time ago someone reminded me about other worries, "It is what it is." I tell my children often, "Don't borrow trouble from tomorrow. Just deal with today." Maybe I should go with that. Hmmmm...

"DIFFICULT PRESENT MOMENTS

When the Present Moment comes and gives me something very difficult to bear, I say, "This is the will of God."

Think of when Pilate told the Lord, "Don't you know I have the power to crucify you and the power to release you?" And Jesus said, "No, you would not have power over me if it had not been given to you from above" (John 19:10-11). Even at that awesome, unjust moment, Jesus saw the Father's Will and accepted it. In our daily lives we should to. "--Mother Angelica from Little Book, of Life Lessons and Everyday Spirituality

Photo courtesy of Public Domain Pictures/Petr Kratochvil

Procrastinator or Perfectionist?

Or both? Could it really be?

I am a FlyLady flunkie.

There I said it.

My sink doesn’t sparkle so much that a warm glow emits from it. Sometimes there are even dishes in it. All day long. (gasp!!) I don’t do that “fling” thing she talks about, and I am sure my “schedule” would make her cringe.

A year or so ago I checked out the FlyLady book from the library. I got about two chapters in and got so overwhelmed I returned the book that very day.

In reality, she has some great ideas.

I do know the days I get up, get dressed and put my shoes on, I don’t sit down as much. I keep moving. That is not something I do everyday, but I do it when I have a big project that I want to finish. And it does work. Occasionally.

The FlyLady recommends putting makeup on everyday. As part of your morning routine. Well, I did start putting makeup on again, but it is more like mid-morning, when I get around to it, and maybe it might be in the afternoon before I start driving to dance. And if I know I am really not going anywhere sometimes I get rebellious and don’t put any on at all.

But one thing the FlyLady said that I could not accept was that a lot of people become procrastinators because they are perfectionists.

Bwahahahahah….ME??? Have you seen my life? My house? My projects?

Lately, though, I’m wondering. I have heard the thought elsewhere too. Could I really be a hidden perfectionist?

We school year-round here, but keep a lighter subject schedule in the summer. So as do most homeschool moms, I start planning for the next school year in late July or early August. I’ve been blessed by some awesome materials this year; curriculum I’ve been wanting to implement, but not been able to afford. I’m sorting, organizing, planning. We have some really fun opportunities this year.

I’ve always been a seat-of-the-pants, duct tape, baling wire, tar, open-minded, relaxed type homeschooler in my approach. But this year there is so much going on. And I don’t want us to miss things by inertia default. So I started planning a schedule. And as I’ve been working on it I am getting overwhelmed. What if I miss something? (I’ve never been concerned about that before.) If we do this on Thursday then we can’t fit in that. But I like that! The boys like that. Maybe something else will have to go. I want this to be just a perfect year for them. Maybe I should just ditch the whole thing…

Aha!!

Maybe I am a perfectionist. Not perfect (‘coz we know no one but the ONE is perfect) but a perfectionist. Wikipedia's Perfectionism topic gives insight; scroll down to "Negative Aspects."

I see a pattern of putting off things until they can be done right. (And we know how often that occurs.) I see distracting myself until a situation becomes urgent and then just handling it with my usual seat-of-the-pants, duct tape, baling wire, tar, open-minded, relaxed approach with a less than perfect outcome. But I don’t think I am as relaxed as I make myself out to be.

One thing that has helped me recently is the “Do it now” rule. Or do just one more thing. What I really want to do after supper is veg out in the ugly pink blogging chair for “just ten minutes.” But ten minutes melts into twenty, thirty…oh my word, is it time for bed? So I’ve been pushing myself to clean up now, and “See, that’s done. That was easy. Why don’t you throw in a quick load of laundry?”

Obviously this has kept me away from my computer and blogging, but last week was a pretty good one in accomplishments. The boys and I started school yesterday, easing back into a more rigorous routine. The next three weeks will get progressively more challenging.

I know I will never be perfect, but I am seriously working on the procrastinator situation. I really like the outcome. Maybe I will find that book again…but then again…maybe I'll wait until I'm a little closer to perfect...

Have a great day!!

Julie

Beloved

“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Matthew 11:25-30

This morning at Mass during the sermon I was reminded that I was a child of the King of Kings. This morning I was reminded even though a sinner saved by Grace, I am a beloved daughter of the LORD. No matter what Satan says, no matter what anyone else think, no matter if I am poor or rich, famous or insignificant in the eyes of the world, no matter—I am beloved.

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The county fair was one of my mother’s favorite things. I’m not sure why, but she loved the whole thing and wanted to make sure we enjoyed it too.

Thirteen years ago my husband and I moved near my parents. Two years later we had our first son, Roo. Boo followed two and a half years later. Within eight months of that we moved nine hours away from my parents and, with one exception; we’ve not been nearby since then. So for the last six years I brought the boys to my parents’ house for a long visit in the summer.

My mother always took vacation time and the first four of those years created “Camp Gramarama” that included water balloon fights, Dairy Queen trips, a zoo visit, the county fair parade, and subsequent visits to the fair. Somewhere in there my parents got a pop-up camper and parked it next to the cornfield. It became “The Camp Clubhouse.” The adults rotated sleeping in it with the kids.

The fifth year my mom had every intention of doing all of that and made good on most of it, but the chemo was catching up and my sister and I did our best to fill in the gaps. I don’t know who we were trying to do it for, her or the children. Maybe both. It was still a good “Camp.”

Last year, my mom, three years into chemo, spent the first part of the week resting/sleeping; rallying to try to get to see my niece exhibit her cat. Mom made it to the fairgrounds. My dad had obtained permission to use their golf cart to drive her up to the exhibition tent, but even sitting was too difficult and he and I took her home before the show started. She did hear the show (the judge comments during the judging) over the cell phone—one of those “how did we manage before?” moments. She got to hear my niece interviewed on the radio also. A day later she was in the local hospital. She was then moved to a university research hospital. She spent more time the next six weeks in the hospital than at home. And then she really got to go HOME.

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

I’ve debated a lot lately about my blog. I’m trying to remember what made me think I could keep up with one. I’ve never been a good journal-er. I had another crisis last year about the same time—actually a couple weeks earlier. But I also had to deal with some intense personalities along with my ventures into the reality of the world outside the walls of my home. And I was dealing with the reality that my mom wasn’t going to be around much longer

This time, between the last month of going against my nature—having to operate as if I were a morning person, having to be out of my home four to seven hours a day; trying to wade through the hormonal upheavals of peri-menopause, making important decisions about our future with my husband and then getting ready to be gone for five days, when what I want to do is be home, I questioned whether there was any point in keeping it open.

And then I started going through my archives.

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves—or blogs, as the case may be. They give you lots of details on what’s going on. I’m not often one to do so. I try to share about me without sharing too much about others who might not want to be blogged about. I’ve noticed there are others who blog this way too—they blog, but there’s more going on than what is in the post.

Both ways are good. But I wondered if my style of blogging would really help me look back.

It did.

Even though a reader might not get all the details, one post, sometimes one sentence is enough to bring back a flood of memories for me.

Last year we left for my parents’ and the fair almost immediately after Summer Intensives. This year blessedly, I gave myself the weekend to recuperate a little. But it still doesn’t feel like enough. Next year—I don’t see us going for this return to the county fair. I guess I did it for the children—my niece and nephew, as much as for my boys. Maybe I did it most for my mom. We’ve had a trying year and I didn’t feel right changing what’s become a tradition for us. But although I like a day at the fair, I’m not a die-hard fair go-er. But things are changing, things that the children can’t see yet. I’m sure they feel it, but the grown-ups get to make the decisions and that is hopefully because we have more facts.

Hopefully.

Whatever the case may be I think I’ve decided to keep my blog and continue posting. Maybe it’s time to get a private journal too. I definitely think I may need to rearrange some priorities. Usually when someone (or me) has a crisis it is a signal that our approach to life isn’t where it should be. I need to work on that. I've made some really good and significant changes this year--but I think I need to make some more.

The supportive comments and prayers and words of encouragement have meant so much. Bless each of you. I will be on the road, but hopefully have time to get back to visiting and leaving comments and returning e-mails. Thanks for being so patient with me.

Remember that you, too are BELOVED.

Always in HIM,

Julie

Experiencing Technical Difficulties

Totally overwhelmed and in need of some perspective. Be back when I get my act together.

Meme--The ABCs of Me

I found this meme on Barbara’s Stray Thoughts and decided to borrow it. Feel free to join and let me know if you do. I’d like to see yours!

The ABCs of Me

Accent: Almost twenty years ago people used to say they thought I was from the Chicago suburbs. Now I have more of a lazy Southern-Midwest drawl.

Breakfast or no breakfast: Not often. Two mugs of coffee with creamer usually do it, although sometimes I will have some small protein.

Chore I don’t care for: You mean people like chores?

Dog or Cat: Both. One dog—Liberty (Libby) and one cat—Sidney.

Essential Electronics: My computer, my camera, my Nintendo DS Lite.

Favorite Cologne: Poison, Blue, Obsession, Opium

Gold or Silver: Silver if I have to pick—but I prefer mixed metals--brushed nickle, bronze, copper.

Handbag I carry most often: I’ve gone through a series of “cheapies.” Hopefully this fall I will find one “nice” one I love. I carried a Coach for years. I don’t like changing purses.

Insomnia: Often. Recently insomnia has been accompanied by hot flashes alternating with moments of freezing.

Job Title: Neither fish, nor fowl, nor good red herring, otherwise known as multitasking Mommy.

Kids: Two sons, Roo and Boo, ages almost 8 and nearing 11.

Living Arrangements: Duplex, Midwest suburb, Hubby works from home unless he is on the road.

Most Admirable Trait: Dogged determination.

Naughtiest Childhood Behavior: Thinking the world revolved around me.

Overnight hospital stays: When I was born, two for C-sections and one after a car accident.

Phobias: Severely claustrophobic, mildly agoraphobic

Quote: Joy is the great note all through the Bible. We have the notion of joy that arises from good spirits or good health, but the miracle of the joy of God has nothing to do with a man’s life or his circumstances or the condition he is in. Jesus does not come to a man and say “Cheer up.” He plants within a man the miracle of the joy of God’s own nature. –Oswald Chambers

Reason to smile: This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him. The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him. Lamentations 3:21-25

Siblings: One sister, four and a half years younger.

Time I wake up: Depends on how late I stay up.

Unusual Talent or Skill: Fairly crafty (although unable to master knitting) and often able to cook something if I’ve tasted it at a restaurant without a recipe—sometimes it takes a try or two.

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat: Rutabagas

Worst Habit: Losing focus

X-rays: a few—once when I broke my elbow, once to see if I broke my back (thankfully it wasn’t), and after a car accident—of course there’ve been countless dental x-rays

Yummy Stuff: Chocolate, coffee, merlot, bread, cheesecake

Zoo Animal I Like Most: I love Okapis, followed closely by Tree Kangaroos, Red Pandas and Tapirs.

What is your alphabet meme like?

On My Mind Lately

This song has been haunting me...

I've been trying to remember the lyrics.

Edited to add--The Cebu Song is no longer available on YouTube...Sigh...I am SOOOOOOOOO very sad.

We'll have to do with the pirate song. I love Veggie Tales. Larry is my hero. LOL!



...I think I could be doing something more productive.

BUT SINCE I'M NOT...

Just for fun...

If you are in need of more "Pirate-y" material:

Have I mentioned I love Captain Jack & Will Turner?:



LEGO Pirates:

Happy Mother's Day

I really need to laugh today. So I totally stole this from Heidi.

"I Thought You Would’ve Gotten Past that by Now"

There are still days I struggle with baggage over my mother’s death. There was much left undone, unsaid, unacknowledged. Because that was how she wanted it. Her passing left behind things that had been hidden or glossed over for many, many years. Don’t get me wrong. She was a great lady who made a difference in many lives. But she (as are we) was human.

Sometimes I think I should have one big blow-out melt-down and be done with it. That that would wipe the slate clean and I could move on. The converse thought is that if I allow the melt-down I might never climb out of the pit.

One of my IRL friends has shared that she was surprised I was still not “over” my mother’s death. I guess it is coming up on seven months now. Mom had been sick for over three years and in this friend’s opinion I should be moving forward. As in done with it.

The problem with losing a loved one (or having any other large life trauma, like divorce, major health issue or job loss) is that it is your sorrow and not someone else’s. Life does march on and we have to keep marching or get left far behind. Our society we doesn’t dwell on the past much and our own lives are so complicated it is hard to remember the thorns someone else is trying to remove from their heart. We’re past it, we aren’t thinking about it, so it comes as a surprise that our (possibly close) friend is still struggling. We’re encouraged as a society to put a good face on it and this too shall pass.

My friend surprised me with her attitude because she is someone who others turn to for advice. But she is not a Christian and would never consider Christian wisdom a viable thought when addressing needs. So I suppose that plays into it. And since I’ve known her for over a third of my life and it’s not really a new thing about her, I’m surprised I’m surprised. But it caught me off guard. She’s a good person with some good qualities, but with very defined and rigid ideas of how things should be.

I think I am moving forward, but apparently not at the pace my friend would like. I have some really good “normal” days. And then I have some others. It’s only been in the last month or so I was able to start sorting photos to scan and many items my father gave me were left in boxes until I could face them. I tried, probably to early, to address some of this before and just wasn’t able. But with time and faith and a loving God time will move on and I will too.

Doo-Doo Bread, the Secret Recipe

I'm tickled that so many are wondering what the recipe is for Doo-Doo bread. Because it just shows what an awful person I am--it has little or no nutritional value and it is so simple to make there must be a law against that. But it does taste good. So here you go--please come visit me again after you read this, I really am not always so lame.

Ingredients:
1 loaf frozen bread dough
vegetable oil in a skillet

Instructions:
Thaw bread dough, but don't let it rise
Tear or cut (if you want to be neat about it) the dough into six to eight sections
Shape into flat, round shapes
Fry in the oil until golden

Serve with butter, sugar, cinnamon, or parmesean cheese and garlic seasoning. I am sure other toppings would go quite nicely.

Somewhere, back in the good old days when I was a kid, my family called this "Poor Man's Bread" or "Dough Dobbers." My very mature husband, when he first ate this at my parents' house, referred to it as "Doo-Doo" bread. And the name stuck. Like glue. My children have attempted boy-humor variations of this, but I refuse to allow them to demean such haute cuisine any further.

As I said there is little value in this other than it is tasty and it is just a tradition at my house. I promise to offer a "real" recipe on Friday if Overwhelmed will still let me play after this sample of my cooking genius.

Catching Up with Memes, Part 2

Barbara H. tagged me with the Personal Policies Meme. Sorry it's taken so long Barbara!!

The meme asks about “not moral rules, like ”Do Not Kill,’ but the silly policies we impose on ourselves, like ‘Never eat anything you can’t identify,’ or ‘Don’t step on sidewalk cracks.’”

My Personal Policies:

Caffeine is required for me to be human. Without caffeine I am, at best, an ogre. Cowboy coffee—it can float a horseshoe.

My crayons must be organized by color—this has been discussed before. I wasn’t kidding.

I don’t like to microwave soup. I actually try to avoid the microwave as much as possible. I don’t do as well as I would like, but I try. We bought a toaster oven so I would have an alternative that didn’t heat up the kitchen. I obviously don't put soup in the toaster oven--I use the top of the stove for that. I use the toaster oven for things like left-over pizza. Which has nothing to do with soup--and now it stays out of the microwave!

My husband washes the big items in the sink, the cutting boards, the frying pan, the large pot or the colander. I don’t’ like to do it and he is very helpful.

It is important for me to have a tablecloth and cloth napkins on the table at least for the weekend. I try for during the week, but it’s hit and miss.

I keep fresh flowers on the table if at all possible. Small tiger lilies or carnations can usually be found inexpensively and last for a long time. It really helps my attitude.

I am extremely obsessive about sorting the laundry. I am slow in getting it done, but I am so strange my husband just doesn’t offer to help anymore—and that’s okay, he helps with the large dishes.

I hate being late. I will give myself forty-five minutes of wiggle room if I at all possibly can. Traffic has a way of messing up my schedule and I just plan for it most days.


As to who I am going to tag? Well why don't YOU play if you haven't already and let me know more about YOU.

Catching Up with Memes, Part 1

Susie J tagged me with a meme a while back and I am just now posting my answers. Thanks Susie for the tag!

“INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.”

Inside Mo’s Mind
J’s Thoughts and Musings
TeaTime Ramblings
SusieJ
Joyful Days

Next select five people to tag: (if you haven’t done it already)” I am just going to say, "If it looks like fun and you haven't done it, why don't you play? I would love to learn more about all my bloggy friends."

Now for the hard part — the questions: “What were you doing 10 years ago?” Ten years ago I was pregnant with my first son. I worked for an ophthalmologist and was really having a hard time standing through surgeries. I leaned heavily on the counter taking patient histories in office.

We had just moved into a house in the middle of nowhere and I was not unpacked. I never managed to get unpacked in that house. I ate cereal for breakfast, managed some lunch in the hospital cafeteria and ate cereal when I came home then went to bed immediately after.

My husband was attempting to start his own business.

“What were you doing 1 year ago?” Pretty much the same thing as I am doing today. I am hauling my boys to summer intensives (last year it was only one participating and I was trying to entertain the younger one). I was psyching myself up for a week-long trip to my parents’ and the county fair.

“Five snacks you enjoy:”
Merlot
Cabernet Sauvignon
coffee with lots of cream and sugar
chocolate
cheesecake

“Five songs to which you know all the lyrics”
The ending song to the Barney Show…”I love you, You love me...”
I’m a Little Pile of Tin
The Hippo Song
Astronaut sung by FFH
Hold Me Jesus by Rich Mullins

My favorite: “Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:” You know…this depends on if I am a millionaire, as in I have a million dollars or a millionaire, as in I have fifty million—very different things. Assuming the first (because I am not at all greedy):

tithe/donate to some worthy cause
pay off every bill
pay for a modest house
have two decent paid for vehicles
set aside $$ for sons’ college

Wow…I am so boring. But financially I would love to be boring.

“Five bad habits:”
Staying up too late
trying to read too many books at one time
procrastination
allowing myself to be old
being a know-it-all

Five things you like doing:
snuggling my children in the morning when they get up
listening to my husband play guitar & sing
hanging out with my husband
reading
crafting

Five things you would never wear again:
a bikini
Bay City Roller pants
a Joan Jett haircut
white pants
really high heels

Five favorite toys:
ink
adhesives
paper
my heat gun
my computer

Time Travel Tuesday--Cooking

Traveling with Annie again on Tuesday and with all the other Time Travel Tuesday participants.

Today we revisit our first cooking or a memorable cooking experience. Yes…well…Cooking has been somewhat creative around me.

Let’s take you back to the summer before sixth grade. My dear little sis was in first grade. Mom was working. I was in charge. Bwaahahahahaha…And being taller I controlled what we ate.

And we ate mostly cheese soup and bologna sandwiches (with Miracle Whip—‘coz I hadn’t discovered mayo yet). If we didn’t have bologna we had tuna fish sandwiches and cheese soup. I really liked cheese soup. And Miracle Whip. Just so you know it was the old style Campbell’s cheese soup. They don’t make it anymore. Oh, yes, they have cans that say “cheese soup.” But it is different. And yucky.

There was the time in seventh grade I set off the smoke alarm making pancakes. Sadly I repeated that fiasco often. It has only been within the last five years that I have been able to make pancakes. I am still capable of setting the smoke alarm off if I attempt fried chicken. My husband does fried chicken.

It was somewhere around here that my mother and sister concluded I was not a chef and relieved me from all cooking duties. So somehow I missed out on receiving Grandma’s meatball recipe and several old stand-bys. Mom and Sis deny this and finally I have gotten those recipes.

After I graduated from college and rented an apartment with a appliances I began cooking for myself. Being lousy at following directions (could that be why they didn’t bother to give me recipes?) I kind of made things up as I went along. Too this day I will cook things by taste. Adding here and there as my palette feels the need.

Last memory to share—my first impromptu party with my soon-to-be-husband and sister. A group of my friends, a friend of my husband, a friend of my (ex) brother-in-law ended up at our house one evening, no one had eaten and I instigated “stuffed quesadillas.” Again no recipe—just hauled out everything I could think of out of the fridge and made quesadillas for everyone. Then we all had a fun time dancing in the two car garage/make-shift dance floor. One friend who was there still brings this up, occasionally, more that fifteen years later. It was a good cooking memory.

Visit Annie and all the other Time Travelers.