Questions

1.  Is it wrong to feel a certain degree of happiness when a yard-wrecking mole is found floating dead in the swimming pool?

2.  Why is it so much easier to feel happy on a sunny day than on a rainy one?

3.  Why are puppies so delightful?

4.  Why does a certain puppy sit directly under the computer chair while someone’s trying to blog and pass horrendous smelling gas? (note:  #3 is not always true)

5.  Why do ladies of a certain age feel they should hack all their hair off?

6.  Do aforementioned ladies think their tiny haircuts look good or have they stopped caring about their looks altogether?

7.  Do older men and women realize that they look identical when they have the same haircut?  (Hers being too short and his being too long.)

8.  Am I sounding mean? 

9.  Do you wonder what my hair looks like?

10.  Am I happy that you can’t see me and therefore can’t pass judgment on me and my hair?  (Answer:  yes)

11.  How come everyone elses geraniums look better than mine?

12.  Why does a slow poke always pull her car out in front of yours when you’re late for work, an appointment, etc. and drive five miles under the speed limit till you're almost to your destination?

13.  Why do skinny girls always say they eat a lot when it obviously isn’t true?

14.  Why do puppies immediately attack you when you sit on the floor?

15.  Why didn’t Jane Austen write more books?

16.  Why can’t somebody today write as well as JA did?

17.  Why rehearse negative thoughts when there are positive ones to think about instead?

18.  Why did the ladies at church talk about starting a walking club to get in shape--then charge and decimate the dessert table at our luncheon on Sunday?

19.  Can you imagine what the world would look like if no one colored her hair?

20.  Why am I sitting here at this computer at 12:44am when I could be upstairs in my cuddly bed?

Flour for the Chocolate Log Roll

Tomorrow at our church, a women’s luncheon is being held after the service.  Our women’s group is now called Ladies of Grace.  I was asked to make a log roll for desert.   Ladies (L) of (O) Grace (G), get it?  L-O-G.  Yeah, I thought linking a log dessert with our acronym was kind of a stretch, but whatever—you have to have a dessert of some kind anyway, right?  And I don’t mind helping out—we’re always hauling stuff to church:  a dish for a potluck dinner, candy for the Easter Celebration, boots for the Mission, Christmas gifts for the children of the incarcerated, etc.   We congregants also work in the yard, paint props for Vacation Bible School, set up tables and chairs for various activities, etc.  The phrase “many hands make light work” has been used so many times around our church; it should be engraved over the entrance.

Friday night I set to work.  The recipe was found and the ingredients were assembled—except—where was the flour?  I’d made a quiche a couple of days before and had used some for the crust.  I didn’t remember using it up.  I discovered a five pound bag of whole wheat flour in the cupboard that could have been used, but nobody wants a “hardy“ chocolate roll.  I looked in the pantry closet (several times), the cupboard, the refrigerator, another cupboard, but there was no flour to be found.  Rats—I had to go to the store.  No matter that I had spent all day running from one store to another and was in at least two different stores where flour could have been bought.  The fact was I had no flour to use for that chocolate roll.   

“Well,” I thought, “I did need to get some salsa ingredients anyway….”  (Salsa is an essential condiment in our house.  The Man grew up with it--“it” meaning fresh and homemade, not one of the jars in the snack isle next to the chips-- and he feels its absence acutely when we run out.)  So being the bright bulb that I am, I figured I’d go to Walmart because they always have cilantro and my regular grocery store is almost always out of it.  (I think the Chinese restaurant next door to the grocery swoops in and buys it all up before I get there.)

After arriving at Walmart, I started consulting a list in my purse of other things that I hadn’t been able to pick up earlier in the day.  I don’t know how many times that list was pulled out and consulted—I didn’t want to miss anything!  But guess what they didn’t have at Walmart?  No, they had the cilantro—what they didn’t have were the all- important jalapeno peppers for the salsa.  How irritating!

After getting what I needed, I pushed my cart to one of the registers and proceeded to stand there for what seemed like 10 minutes while an affable, but completely inefficient cashier dealt with a man who appeared to have an extremely low IQ.  He stood in front of me with a cart of empty banana boxes, and he appeared to be buying only one item.  “Why are we just standing here?” I’m thinking.  “I’ve got a chocolate roll to make, you know!  Buy the stinkin’ thing and drag these boxes out of here!”  Now there’s a good Christian attitude for you!

After deserting that sad duo for a line that was actually moving, the stuff was bought, shoved into the car and I headed for home.  But wait—oh no—it hit me (close to halfway home, of course)—I had forgotten to buy the darn flour!  It hadn't been on that list I was so careful to consult.  OK, so it was like 10:00pm by now and Miss Early Riser was getting tired.  So where did I have to go?  That’s right—the grocery store I usually go to but had avoided because I was sure they wouldn’t have cilantro and I didn’t want to make more than one stop because it was getting late and I wanted to snag the flour, get home and bake.  (Take a breath!)  Well, at least they would probably have the jalapenos for the salsa—that made having to stop for the flour a little more palatable.  

I arrived at the store, and once inside, grabbed a couple of unnaturally large peppers (were these genetically engineered?) in the produce department and found myself glancing over to the herbs to see if, by some miracle, they had cilantro then decided, “Why torture myself?” and walked on to the baking isle to get the precious flour.

By the time I got home, it was waaaaay too late to do that baking.  So today, I popped out of bed at 5:00am this morning to do the baking before the rest of the day's activities started to unfold, went out to the little refrigerator in the garage to grab a protein shake for breakfast, and lo and behold, there’s the flour I’d been looking for sitting on the refrigerator shelf as innocent as can be.  Oh yeah, it all came back to me.  I’d had the brilliant idea that it would “keep” better in there.  Yeah, it’ll keep real well, if nobody knows where it is!

Reading with My Babies

Years ago, when my children were small, we lived in a big old house in a small western New York town.  It was a neat old town, with a Main Street lined with shops and big houses built by the successful entrepreneurs of the 19^th century.   A good many of the houses on the side streets were from the late 1800’s or early 1900’s.  There were lots of porches on which to sit, and most of the streets had tree- shaded sidewalks.  The YMCA was a big gathering place.  All the various social classes met there.  Doctors “worked out” beside the grocery store employees, and everybody seemed to get along.  One of my family’s favorite spots in town was the public library which was housed in an old building with a modern wing.  And the best part about that library was that it was located right across the street from our house! 

I can remember taking the kids’ hands and scuttling across the street, after looking both ways of course, to the ramp that led up to the new section.  We’d hustle up the ramp and rush in the doors and head straight for the children’s area, located downstairs.  Soon we were headed back to the house with a huge armload of books.  I’m not sure who was more excited to read those books, the kids or me.  We’d come in, set the books on the second-hand coffee table, plunk ourselves on the second-hand couch, grab one of the books and start to read.  The two oldest who were 5 and 3 when we first moved to that house would lean against me, one on each side, and we’d devour those books one after another.  Boy that was fun.  Revisiting some of the old classics like Are You My Mother, Make Way for Ducklings, and Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel was a hoot.  The Pokey Puppy, The Gingerbread Man, and Sam and the Firefly made welcome appearances too.  We’d talk, discuss, and laugh and reach for another book.  Yes, we spent a lot of time sitting there on that couch, enjoying those stories and each other —was it an indulgence?  Maybe.  Heaven knows there were plenty of other things to be done around the house.  But I think it was well worth the time.   

We kept reading as the kids got older, and the books grew longer and the stories became more involved.   We usually broke those chapter books out at night before they went to bed.  That was fun too—even reading till I was hoarse due to their cries of “keep reading” when I tried to close the book for the night.  But I especially treasure those hours on the couch with my little ones.  It was such a joy to share all those lovely stories with their little bodies leaned up against mine…. 

Wonderful Season

It's official!  It is 

HOORAY!

PS:  Happy Birthday Darling Aimee!

Fence Foolishness

Ewwww, ick, yuk!  What just happened to me should never happen to anyone in the world!  I went out back to water the plants and lo and behold, Cambridge had laid a “pile” in the tiny garden patch—next to one of the jalapeno plants.  (I hope he bites into one of the peppers sometime—maybe then he’ll finally learn to stay out of there.) 

The creature who got me into the mess.

Anyway, after watering, I figured, “Well, I guess I’ll see what else has been dumped (pun intended) in the yard.”  So I picked up the doo-doo hand shovel and the old plant pot it’s kept in and proceeded to make the rounds.   

Don't worry, that's rust on the shovel....

 Thankfully every pile I came to was pretty old and dry.  That was a good thing.  (You’ll understand why later on….)  It was still malodorous though—don’t think for a minute it wasn’t!  After a thorough stalking of the yard, it was time to head to the back fence to throw the foul stuff into the woods. 
 

Now the fence has a personality.  I know that sounds weird, but it's true.  It’s an old wooden fence, silvered by the weather.  The Man has been systematically bolstering up the rotting fence posts the last couple of years.  Yeah, this fence has been around a while.  Those years of standing guard between our backyard and the woods have apparently given it ample time to devise devious plans.   It’s a calculating, sneaky old fence, that’s what it is.  The top is about even with my head—maybe a little higher.  As I mentioned, there are woods behind the fence.  When doing yard work, it’s convenient to throw weeds, tree debris, fallen leaves, etc. over the top and into the woods.  

Fence trying to look innocent by holding a pretty pot of flowers.  

 Well for some reason, I have a rather shameful record of clearing the top of the fence with whatever it is I’m trying to throw over.  It’s not that I’m weak or that I don’t know how to throw-- I did play softball on the church team for several years, you know….But something strange happens in that back yard.  I can’t tell you how many times I have  launched a stick or a bunch of weeds up into the air with the intention of having it clear the top of the fence and sail into the woods, only to have it hit the top of the fence and bounce right back into the yard.  Then I have to scuttle over in embarrassment, pick it up and shove it over the top wondering all the while if the neighbors witnessed my lame attempt.  Now that it’s happened so many times, I assume they have a running joke in the houses on either side, “Oh there she goes, trying to throw something over the fence again!  Ha, ha, ha!  Let's watch it hit the fence and fall back into her yard.  What a ninny that woman is.”  

That’s why I think the fence is no normal inanimate object—I figure it must be stretching itself at the last moment when the airborne item is ready to pass over the top.  It enjoys toying with me.  So today—you already know, don’t you?  Yep.  I marched right over to that fence, holding the doo doo filled pot gingerly by the edge.  The arm went up, the planter was tipped, the doo doo should have flown into the woods ….BUT NO, IT DID NOT FLY INTO THE WOODS!  Some weird magic made the planter do some kind of odd bounce as it hit the top of the fence, and all the doggie doo doo smacked into the fence with enough force to then bounce back at me!  I felt the chunks hit my left arm (and of course I was wearing short sleeves).  Yep.  It was like this:  swoosh (smooth movement of left arm swinging pot up to top of fence), then bang (creepy old fence interference), then plunk, plunk, plunk, as pieces bounced back and hit my arm.  NOW HOW DISGUSTING IS THAT?  I believe I heard a hollow, splinter-filled chuckle coming from those gray boards.... The worst part is that no one really thinks the fence has a perverted desire to make me look like a fool.  They actually think I make a fool of myself with no outside assistance!  Uuuugh.  It’s maddening. 

Needless to say, I ran into the house for a thorough washing.  I can’t believe that just happened.  I’m so disgusted—with the dog, myself, and that creepy, old fence. 

Hair

Hair—a good many of us have (or have had) at least some on top of our heads.   Mine has always been straight.  I don’t mean “kind of” straight—I mean wet spaghetti straight.  (Maybe wet angel hair pasta would be more accurate—those strands are pretty fine.)  I mean looks-like-you-laid-a-piece-of-silk-on-your-head straight.  Yeah, you may think you’d like that, but believe me—it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.  Marsha Brady hair isn’t always in style.  When some girls get hot, their hair curls into cute little ringlets around their face—you’ve seen that, right?  Well not this hair.  It gets even straighter and the little pieces around my face just stick to the sweat in the most unattractive manner imaginable.  When I see a woman with full hair that comes up off her head and fluffs around before falling gently down around her shoulders, I am amazed.  How does she make her hair do that? Like a gaggle of shy girls at a party, all the little pieces of my fine hair crowd together and take up as little room on my pate as they possibly can. 

Always the optimist, I have made attempts over the years to correct the problem.  Let’s see—there was the perm.  "Disaster" is the word that comes to mind.  It’s thrilling at first to see all the curls (if you can overlook the inevitable perm-induced breakage), but as soon as it starts to grow out---the look becomes exceedingly strange.  Stick straight hair on top, leading into crazy curls down below.  Yeah, that’s a real natural look!  Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I think it was a style for about 10 minutes, 30 years ago.  They may have called it a stacked perm….anyway—it wasn’t for me.  Then there was the “product” route.  There was mousse, root boost, gel, and wax.  OK—let’s go back to the angel hair pasta comparison, except now let’s pour some olive oil over it! The extra weight of the products just weighed my hair down into separate greasy looking pieces.   Not the look I was going for.  Then there were the mechanical methods.  Pull the top of the hair up and let it pouf a little and slap a barrette in to hold it in place.  Hey—not bad—there’s actually some height up there!  Oh, but imagine the disappointment of noticing when passing a mirror that the barrette had slid right down the shafts of that fine hair and was now dangling somewhere at the back of the neck.  And the pouf had become, of course, a malshapen mess.  Again—not the look I had hoped for.   Layers have also been tried.  The hair in the shorter layers is so light that it can be curled and made somewhat fluffy.  That works as long as there is not even one molecule of moisture in the air.   Moisture (or) humidity + my hair = flatness that rivals the great plains or a pancake (or maybe a crepe—before it’s rolled up, of course). 

So where are we today?  Surprisingly, I think I’ve come to accept and even like my hair to some degree.  When you hear that thinning hair is a problem for some women as they age, I’m just glad to have some—straight, curly, whatever.  Even though it was the target of so many rebellious acts, it's stuck by me through (sorry, I have to do it) thick and "thin," so the least I can do is be thankful for it.   

Womanly Advice

In the Biblical book, Titus, it is written that older women should teach what is good.  They're also told to train or urge younger women to love their husbands.  Well, it occurred to me one day that I am indeed an older woman—not ancient, mind you, but older than the young whippersnappers out there.  And having been married for over one quarter of a century, I dare say I’ve learned a thing or two about living with a man.  If you’re interested, here are a few thoughts off the top of my head:

 

1)      Remember you’re on the same team.  What hurts one of you, hurts both.

2)      He has strengths and weaknesses—just like you do.

3)      He’s not your girlfriend.  Don’t expect him to act like her.  He doesn’t know how.

4)      Don’t disrespect him—especially in front of others.

5)      Don’t assume that if he loves you he will be able to read your mind.

6)      Don’t forget that he wants you to think highly of him.

7)      Acknowledge his positive qualities.  A little praise can make his week.

8)      Cut him some slack when he makes a mistake—he’ll love you for it.

9)      Physical affection goes a long way in a man’s world.

10)   Look for the good in him—it’s there.  Be thankful for the good you find.

11)   Look to the real God for complete fulfillment—don’t lay that burden on your husband’s shoulders. 

12)   Cook for the man if you can—as funny as it seems, a lot of guys love that! 

13)   If he says he likes your hair long, grow it out!  It won’t hurt you and it will give him a thrill!

14)   Smile—show him you’re happy to see him.

15)   Be nice—you’ll discover a kind of power of which you were unaware.

There’s plenty more where those came from, but that should give you something to chew on for a while!  Oh, and here’s a good verse to learn to go along with the above:

And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, 

even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.   

Ephesians 4:32