A Collection of Everyday Things

I can’t really pinpoint one, single event that specifically changed me or shaped me. There were of course EVENTS that I’m sure were the results of much praying and discussion on the part of my parents: our little community church closed, we moved houses, we adopted my brothers, and we quit farming and moved across the state. I’m sure all of those things had a profound effect on who I am today, but I see myself as more a collection of everyday things rather any one event. Things like bright sunlight and tall plants, the sound of spray planes early in the morning, sandy sandwiches, dragonflies and hot sun, Sesame Street and Captain Kangaroo, Fruit Loops and Looney Toons on Saturday mornings, crocheted swimsuits in the sprinkler, riding in the back of the pickup, baby pigs and clever mamas, leftover party snacks, eating cookies in the church basement, seeing Santa Claus at the Community Center after giving him my wish list in a little house near the mule in Muleshoe, the cacophony of Grandma’s house which was always full of kids, eating penny pancakes at Christmas and orange pushups in the summer, the taste of watermelon beside the brick fireplace, playing in the pit, bouncing up and down mountains in the Jeep, draining water hoses in the cold, pulling cotton trailers in and out of Twin Lakes, hating to clean the lint filter, practicing piano in the dark sewing room, reading by the twilight after bedtime, the coolness of the willow tree, snuggling all together in bed Mama and Daddy’s bed on Sunday mornings, dancing to Bob Wills in the carport, liniment and capsaicin capsules from the kitchen medicine cabinet, chicken pox on the pull-out couch, dancing to the Bee Gees in the living room, hunting for kittens in the little house, the smell of diesel and grease in the box car, the screams of Guinea hens, playing in the trees at Mema and Papa’s, hiding in the Mema’s wardrobe, hiding from spiders in the backseat of the car, the smell of damp, musty, spider-infested cellars, practicing the clarinet outside, spitting tobacco (brownie) juice just like Daddy, eating Fireballs at Aunt Jim’s house, picking up feed at the feed store, Papa ‘helping’ us with Dairy Queen ice cream cones, following pigs in the show ring, Mrs. Carlyle’s 3rd grade classroom, lying on the floor in the school library, keeping 4-H record books, being sick on myself during a movie at school, earning 1st grade reading prizes, kissing Steve Geries in the coat closet during 1st grade, being kissed by Scott somebody (Robbie Fly’s cousin) outside the band hall in 5th grade, finding ‘deer ears’ in Guy Dale’s flowerbeds, the sound of dominoes and laughter, the roar of well motors, the taste and coldness of well water, helping Daddy count rows and creeping the pickup along while he loaded pipe, the smell of corn harvest, eating supper on the tailgate in the dark, the coolness of tasseling corn, wheat germ chewing gum, … this list could go on and on. And honestly, I’m not very good at self-examination. I am who I am. Why bother with things that can’t be changed. Strive to make yourself better each day- that’s where my focus is. Having said that, I guess I should take a minute to thank my family for all of the above memories and a million more, ‘cause without them I wouldn’t have my awesome forward-thinking attitude now would I?!


A New Year

Wow, don’t EVER go back and re-read your posts. Especially if those posts were written specifically about resolutions, goals or planned objectives. It’s a kick in the gut.

So it’s a new year. The last minutes of the second day of a new year in fact, which makes me two days behind on my read-the-Bible-in-a-year plan and my take-a-family-photo-every-day plan. I also haven’t determined Jack’s disability or Medicare status since he went to work full time in September, balanced the checkbook or scheduled bill paying for the month, built a budget, cleaned out the freezer, built a Household Binder, and reconciled the now-closed business books and Thomas’ checkbook. I haven’t posted a book review in over two weeks, mapped the GA’s winter lesson plans or finished the awesome baby gift I’m making for a shower next Saturday.

I did get the Christmas decorations put away today, so, yea! I had to do that- the housecleaner is coming Monday, praise God.

I have an ideal I’m working toward. I don’t pretend I’ll ever be the Proverbs 31 woman, but I do want to live my life well.

  • I want the freedom of faith, the power of prayer and a witness of love.
  • As a wife I want to be a helpmeet, a best friend, and a cheerleader.
  • For my children I want to be wise and present.
  • In my home I want simplicity and comfort.
  • I want to have enough self-control not to be morbidly obese.
  • I want to be more financially stable, i.e., not lose precious seconds in fear/anticipation each time I run my debit card.
  • I want to be a dependable friend, a trusted employee and a helpful neighbor.

So I’ve got some plans for the new year. A read-my-Bible-every-day plan. A take-a-family-photo-every-day plan. An organize-your-home-in-52-weeks-plan. A task planner on my phone. The materials necessary to build a Household Binder and permanent filing system. Budget and bill paying software and Dave Ramsey in my head. And visits from the housecleaner every two weeks and my mother every six weeks to keep me accountable.

Let the discipline begin.

Buyer’s Remorse

You might remember that a couple months ago I lamented my previously round, plump face’s plunge toward points south. I swear that if my (many) chins weren’t there to hold it up, my jaw line would be sagging about where my boobs used to be.

So last week, in a fit of vanity, I signed up for a boat-load of skin care products -$250.00 worth to be exact and aren’t we glad Jack never reads this blog, and know I’m having major buyer’s remorse. And not just because of the money, although the bank did call and ask if this was a valid charge. Obviously name brand beauty products are not common properties in our little game of Monopoly.

No, I’m also regretting my purchase because of the SEVEN bottles of face cleanser, astringent and moisturizer I found while sorting through bathroom drawers this weekend. I’ll admit that two of those bottles are travel size, but still, of the remaining five bottles, FOUR had yet to be opened!

Which leads me to my third confession reason for regret: I don’t use this stuff. I wash my face in the shower each morning with whatever product happens to be in there- usually a Biore or Neutrogena product that I groused about spending $10.00 on. I maybe spend three minutes putting on spackle when I have to and never intentionally take the time to remove that spackle at the end of the day. I’m not a good girl.

So my next step is to call my local fancy-face-stuff representative and friend and explain my dilemma, then call the fancy-face-stuff place and see if they’ll keep their fancy-face-stuff and give me back my money.

Wish me luck!


Fun Sticks

I honestly never gave much thought to weaponry until I had a son. Daddy had guns in the house, but the only time I saw them was when an animal had to be put down or a coyote scared off.

Even after Jack and I married, I didn’t have to form an opinion about guns. Jack grew up hunting with his grandfather, but has never hunted during our marriage. Those rifles he inherited stayed at his brother’s or in the closet.

Then came Thomas, who as a two year old would turn a piece of toast into a gun. By the age of 14 he had a knife collection to rival the case in Cabela’s and what started as a Nerf and then pellet gun collection has morphed into a craving for the real thing. He also has several bows.

His uncles and cousins only encourage this mania as they are avid hunters and gun collectors. I don’t know how many guns my brother and SIL own, but I do know they have at least three gun safes and not the small, top-of-the-closet kind.

What do I know believe about the right to bear arms? Well, it is our right and as long as there are game freezers to be filled and criminals to protect my family from, I guess I’m all for it. I do not see the sense in semi-automatic guns, automatic guns, or warfare guns being for sale in the local gun shop, nor am I against age restrictions, background checks, waiting periods, application processes, and other regulations that set guidelines for purchasing guns. These ‘fun sticks’ as my brother calls them are dangerous in the wrong hands. I believe a responsible user should have no problem proving that he or she is a responsible user.

All this to report that the kids are participating in 4-H shooting sports this summer and fall. At yesterday’s local pistol competition Thomas won 2nd place, which amounted to 1,000 .22 rounds, a true windfall.

My justification? If they’re gonna do it, they might as well do it right.

I Love the ’80s!

Miss this:

sit and spin

Miss this:

banana clips

Miss this:

singing frog

Don’t miss this:

rat tail

Please! Make it stop!!!!