The Last Five Months

Here I sit at the computer.  My little nieces (Julia in particular) have finally nagged me into writing something.  Yes, it’s been five months since anything’s been posted on this blog.  So, what am I supposed to be--­- a stinkin’ MACHINE?

What’s happened in the last five months?  Well son #3 made good on his threat (promise?) to move to Nashville.  He’s living at his sister’s house.  He has a bank job and tutors math part time.  Mr. Cambridge went with him, which enabled me to plant more flowers in the backyard with the assurance that they  wouldn’t be shredded by his powerful paws while running frenetic sprints through our landscape.  That development has given me a good measure of joy.  But the best part is knowing that without Cambridge in the family mix, I can boldly walk through the yard without fear of squishing into something unsavory.  

Another change:  all the furniture was moved from Josh’s room into Daniel’s old room, (which had become my sewing room after he got married.)  Josh’s room has more closet space—perfect for stashing unattractive bins of fabric.  The furniture from Josh’s room is cherry and well made.  It was purchased years ago at an estate sale in the little western NY town in which we lived.  We wouldn’t have been able to buy it new.  The set consists of a bed frame, two dressers, and a bedside table with a cute little drawer.  I had stripped and refinished the tops of the dressers and fronts of the drawers shortly after bringing them home some 20 years ago.  Josh has ensured that I’ll be repeating that process soon.  Especially impressive are the deep scratch marks on the side of the dresser against which he used to prop his skateboard.  Have you ever felt the platform of a skateboard?  It’s like very rough sand paper.  Just exactly what you want rubbing back and forth on your nice furniture.   My plan is to fix up the furniture (again) and create a nice guest room for the guests I imagine will show up at some point in time.  All the sewing and craft stuff that was in Daniel’s old room is now in Josh’s old room (you know, the place with all the closet space) at the end of the hall.   Happily, The Man will no longer have to view the vicious mess, that tends to appear when I’m “creating,” on his way to our bedroom.

Ah well, these are trifles, no?  What is not a trifle is renovating  your kitchen, which also happened in the last five months.  It was a job, let me tell you, to find the materials we wanted (and could afford) and to tear out the old junk and put in the new stuff.  But now The Man and I are quite content.  It’s not a huge kitchen and it’s not the swankiest one around, but we like it—a lot. 

The hardest thing has been making the switch from being a mom with a kid still in the house to a mom with no kids within 1000 miles of the aforementioned house!  It wasn’t easy—especially when going through old boxes of the kids' things.  (There’s no way to avoid stumbling upon them when you’re manically rearranging  your newly “child-free” house.)  Yes, there were some tough, weepy times had in the last five months, but a change has occurred.  It’s time to turn a hopeful eye toward the future—and I am.

Josh Graduates!

Well, Joshua (son #2) graduated from college Saturday.  We’re sure proud of him for pushing himself through all those Econ courses.  He hates the winter, but for the past four years he has managed to drive down to campus and attend class (most of the time anyway) even when it was way colder than he preferred it to be.  

We took him out to Red Lobster (his choice) last night to celebrate.   

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Too bad his sister, brother, and sister-in-law couldn’t be there—but I guess that’s what happens to the youngest child—especially when the older ones move 1000 MILES AWAY!  No, I’m not bitter—don’t be ridiculous.

He’s starting a bank job in a couple of days.  We’ll see how that goes.  He says he’s keeping his grocery store job too—we’ll also see how that goes! 

He’s a great kid.  Congratulations Josh!

Josh & friends

I WILL Have Green Grass

For years I’ve dreamed of having a beautiful backyard—green grass, colorful flowers, relaxing and attractive seating areas, maybe a lawn dwarf or two—just kidding about that last part.  Our big old in-ground pool takes up most of the backyard, but there are still “green spaces” around the edges that could look lovely.   There are two grassy areas in the backyard.  (The other areas have bushes and plantings, but they are another sad story.)  One space swings around the short end of the pool.  The other is located part way down one of the pool’s long sides.  It’s the latter parcel of land that is giving me the most trouble.   I can’t tell you how much time and sweat and money has gone into that little 18X7 foot plot of ground.   It was seeded the year we moved in and grass grew.  We had a dog (York) at the time that apparently had a nuclear power plant residing in his bladder because what came out of there certainly was toxic.  Huge, ugly spots began to appear in the precious new grass.   That was disappointing, to say the least.  

But then York went to live with our daughter—yea!  Time to try again.  This time son #2 helped me clear away the sad old grass and lay down strips of beautifully healthy, thick sod.  Of course it was a pain in the neck to run out there every day and water the grass until it was firmly rooted, but it was worth it to have lush green grass. 

 

Trouble arrived in the form of the little black puppy that Son #1 simply had to have.  Oh, he was cute at first (aren’t they all) but he got big.  Real big.  Oxford is one powerful dog 120+ pound Neapolitan Mastiff mix.  

He liked to run hard all over the backyard to stay in shape.  He didn’t seem to care about the wonderful new turf.  Have you ever seen  a clump of grass fly into the air after a golfer takes a swing?  That’s what happened whenever Oxford pushed off with his powerful hind legs.  (Only there were two clumps of grass—one for each foot.)  He also like to dig.  Oh my poor, poor grass!  Pretty soon it looked like a battlefield that’s  been carpet-bombed.  The evil stuff known as crabgrass came up where the lovely grass had been cruelly torn away by big lumbering paws.  

  

We lived with the mess  for a few years until Son #1 decided to get married and fly the coop.  He wanted to take his dog, which was good because I really didn’t want to have to tie Oxford to the back of Daniel’s car.  My heart soared just thinking about the fact that we were now moose (I mean “dog” free!)  This time I went back to using grass seed.  But first, a couple of inches of soil had to be removed so water could drain into the future grass (that waved gloriously in my mind’s eye), after we (meaning “I”) sprayed off the sidewalk around the pool.  Let me tell you something.  Removing dirt and skaggy grass is no easy chore—even on that small piece of real estate.  Ok, fast forward—the dirt had been shoveled off and dropped in the side yard.  Now it was time to rake the ground up and toss down the grass seed.  You know those moments in life when you feel giddy with excitement?  That’s how I felt a week later when the precious tiny little grass shoots made their appearance.  I watered and watered and even had some conversations with the new grass.  

Then the unthinkable happened.  We had the hottest, driest summer we’d ever had since moving to this house.  I tried to water consistently, but it didn’t seem to help.  The fragile little spears started to wilt and fade.  Heartbreaking?  Yeah, you could say that.  The worst part was the inner dialogue, “How is it that other people have beautiful yards?  What’s wrong with me?  I guess I ‘ll never have  nice grass….dirt is all I deserve, apparently….”  It was painful. 

Now we have (and I know you’re going to judge me for this) Cambridge, a smallish, but still powerful dog.   

Before you abuse me in the “comments” section, tell me--what could I do?  Son #2 needed him deeeesperately.   I thought we’d be dog free by this spring, because this son keeps saying he’s moving out.   And believe me—I had some big plans for that 18X7 chunk of earth.  As a matter of fact, I had the most gorgeous backyard in the neighborhood, rolling around in my head.  But here we are with a dirt patch and a dog—and it’s the time of year to plant grass!  What to do? 

 

You’re probably thinking I’m the biggest dolt in the world for not thinking of this sooner, but it finally occurred to me that this dog is about 90 pounds lighter than Oxford.  He could probably be blocked by a cheap little fence!  Yes!  A fence—that was the ticket!  So it is with a joy-filled heart that I report to you that the cheesy, 18 inch, green wire fence (at @six dollars per ten foot section at Home Depot) has been installed and is valiantly protecting the newly laid grass seeds.  Yes, they are safely snuggled into the earth, awaiting their glorious debut!  This is my year.  I will be one of those people with green grass, I can feel it.    

TV Stand, Footstool, Lamp, Dumb Dog

Josh and I drove across the state recently.  I wanted to see  my sister and her family.   Josh wanted to see all kinds of people in the region we were going to.  (He’s a very gregarious fellow.)  We stayed at Mom’s house.  She’s not there ‘cause she winters in Florida, but she foolishly gave me a copy of her key, so that’s where we stayed.  It’s convenient.  She lives in town (near the college some of Josh’s friends attend).  My sister, Heidi,  lives out in the country, miles from any place you want to get to, unless you want to get to a field, barn, cow or goat.  Heidi was going to have to re-enter civilization to spend a little time in her office, which happens to be close to Mom’s house, so it made sense to stay at Mom’s.  We would get together when she was done with work. 

Just before Mom left for Florida, she picked out a TV stand that had to be ordered and would be ready for pick up in a few weeks.  It was eventually delivered to the store.  A few days before Josh and I arrived, Heidi had gone to the store, loaded the stand into her van, and dragged it into the house (setting off the security alarm in the meantime—but that’s another story involving the police and phone calls and special passwords).  She only had time to set it down in front of the old TV stand (which was really our brother’s old dresser that had been lugged up from the basement to hold her new big, fancy flat screen TV until a nice stand could be found).  The dresser held Mom’s collection of DVD’s, CD’s, and other entertainment paraphernalia rather nicely.  What it didn’t hold was her cable box and her DVD/Video player.  They had been placed beside the dresser on a rustic twig footstool  that went to a rustic twig rocker that sits out on the deck in the nice weather.

I figured Josh and I could move the TV and the other stuff to the new stand so it would be all set for Mom when she came back from Florida.  It was kind of payback for camping at Mom’s house.  But as usual, when I was ready to get to work, Josh couldn’t be found.  He had slipped out to visit the aforementioned friends.  OK, it was gonna be all me, apparently.  I veeeerrrry carefully moved that big screen TV from one stand to the other—praying the entire time.  Everything went well.  The TV stand has an open shelf for the extra pieces of equipment  so they were unplugged, moved to the new unit, and plugged in again.  And let me tell you—they come with a lot of wires—white, yellow, red, blue, green.  Thankfully the manufacturers color code the back panel—probably to keep some of us from sitting down on the floor and bursting into tears when we have to mess with them.   Once that was done,  there was no use for that little Adirondack footstool anymore.  I picked it up and started for the garage. 

Unfortunately, Mom has a side table that happens to stick out in the path I’d be taking through the living room.  There’s a lamp on the table.  The lamp is made of cut glass.  I was holding the footstool up chest high as I tried to pass.  Somehow one of the legs of the stool  must have come in contact with the edge of the lampshade and it started to tip over.  There was no question--it was going to fall off that table and hit the ground.  In a split second I thought, “Oh shoot, that lamp is made of glass!  It’s going to shatter all over when it hits the new hardwood flooring!  Mom’s going to kill me!”  So I did what anyone would do—I stuck my foot out to break the lamp’s fall.  The footstool was still being held up in the air as the lamp came down on my foot.  Somehow I got tangled up and my right foot ended up inside the lampshade (because the lamp was now on its side on the floor) which made me stumble a little.  I started to lose my balance.  My arms must have come up, because the edge of the wooden footstool smacked into the bottom of my chin.  (I still have the cut and bruise to prove it.) Then my foot came down and landed right on top of the light bulb, which broke into a zillion pieces, of course.  Thankfully I was wearing shoes.  (A little tiny sliver of broken light bulb still managed to land in one shoe, however.)  But guess what?  The glass lamp survived!  An added bonus:   the lampshade made it too!  Wish I had a video of those 10 seconds—it had to look absolutely ridiculous.  Do these things happen to other people?  Talk about feeling like a clod….

A weird post script to the story:  I thought all the broken light bulb had been swept up, but a short while later I heard a crunching sound.  Cambridge was lying in the middle of the rug chewing on something.   What do you think it was?  How about a big piece of light bulb.  What in the world?  You should have seen the confused look on his face when it was taken from him.  There’s definitely something seriously wrong with that puppy. 

Ps 19:14

Random Topics

Cambridge has taken a fancy to chasing laser beams.  I don’t remember how it started, but The Man discovered at some point that he could get the dog to run after that red dot for ridiculously long periods of time.  I have to say, it’s much nicer having him exhaust himself in that manner than by playing fetch with his saliva soaked tennis ball.  He tears after that dot like it’s the most precious, prized rodent on the planet.   And if you manipulate the laser just right, you can get him to make the full round:   kitchen, dining room, living room, front hall and back to the kitchen. 

  

Praise and Sharing time at church today:  One of our young boys had to have emergency open heart surgery.  He was back home and doing well, until he started having pain and trouble breathing.   He’s back in the hospital.  Fluid had to be drained around his lungs.  It was clear.  But the fluid behind his heart wasn’t.  Everyone is praying.

Another member  has been battling various cancers for 20 some years.  He said today he’s had 6 different cancers.  Well, he went in this past week to have a couple tumors removed, but the doctors said they couldn’t find them.  He and his son had been praying.  

A woman who recently married a very nice man who sells cars for a living, stood up for Praise and Sharing time and applauded her husband’s faith.  It’s been very slow at the dealership lately, but he hasn’t been stressed out.  He knows that God will take care of them.  She was proud of him and it was heart-warming to hear her praise.  No wonder he loves her. 

Next, a man who a couple weeks ago had badly injured his knee playing sports at the men’s retreat, stood up and leaned on his crutches as he spoke.  His wife was supposed to go away with some friends on a short cruise when he returned from the retreat.  He was to stay home with their young daughter.   This poor man had been in excruciating pain after his accident—that fact was well-known, but he was able to let his wife keep her travel plans.  So here he was standing up and telling the rest of the congregation that he thinks God was trying to tell him to slow down a little.  He had a wonderful week with his daughter.   Now there’s a good attitude for you.

  

The story of David and Goliath was the topic this morning in our 5^th grade Sunday school class.  The Man had an ingenious idea to make a mock-up of Goliath to hang on the wall, so the kids could see how big he was.  So last night we ran out to Walmart and bought some posterboard.  After measuring our son, doing some math,  marking the posterboard with my quilting chalk, and  doing a little fancy cutting, there appeared the torso of the most well-known Philistine of the ancient world.  He hung conspicuously at the front of the class during the lesson.   We knew the project had been a success when the boys came back 10 minutes after class had let out to cock their heads back to re-examine the fierce warrior downed by a sling-wielding, God-fearing young man.

I joined Facebook—mostly to keep in touch with what’s going on with the Women’s ministry.  It’s OK, but not all that exciting.  And what’s with people you hardly know wanting to be “friends” with you?  It’s hard not to view them as voyeurs, you know?  Especially when they don’t do any posting themselves… 

My Mom fell—again.  Her bill for some meds, a night in the hospital, and a CAT scan is something like $26,000.  Does that sound reasonable to anyone who’s not insane?  I didn’t think so.

I finally made the pillows for the living room.  (They match the dining room curtains.)  It feels good to cross a project off the list.