Why Am I Here?

Why am I here blogging, I mean. I can only figure that I'm blogging because I don't have any other diversions from my work that I can fall back on legitimately at the moment. Last night I managed to divert myself with hours and hours of photoshop work. I had taken pictures of the kids while they were all still here together (see above) since they probably won't be again until who knows when, what with Cally going back to college and Cael planning to go into the Marines any day now. Out of the 24 or so I took, I took three photos (all similar) of the kids together on the front porch step. Each of the kids looked best in a separate shot... of course. Once I got started trying to blend each of their best pictures together into one photo and had a bit of success... there was no stopping me. It became an obsession (and what doesn't, you might ask?). This went on into the early morning hours and became a sort of contest with myself. The good news is, I WON! Oh... which one of me won? That's the beauty of competing with yourself... whichever you that you want always wins. The me who did an incredible work of photoshop magic really did make the most impressive showing. I would include the photo to prove it, but at this point, after putting that much time into something so frivilous, I must save it for the Christmas card. To give it away so soon would be premature, for sure. Plus then you would see how much time a person can waste in an evening on something of such little consequence. So in order to make the most of my wasted time, I will wait on sharing it. I give you the above group of other photos I took, however... These I didn't do any photoshop magic on. These are our untouched reality.

Good New/Bad News

The bad news is someone tried to steal my car last night.
The good news is we think that Cael happened to go out to his car while the attempt was in progress, thereby thwarting the thief, causing him to slither out one of the back car doors.
Bad news is the steering column is broken and the ignition jammed, the wiper lever broken off and the wires cut = I'm out of a car.
Good news is my insurance will cover it.
Bad news is it'll cost me a $500 deductible.
Good news is I have free car rental.
Bad news is the car alarm on the rental (a Ford Escape) has gone off once an hour for 9 hours since we got it. This has left me as wound up as a 5 year old boy on koolaid and red dye number 4 (or is it 5, or 8?) You get the picture.
Can we just admit it? I am an electromagnetic force of nature! There can be no doubt now.
Worse news... the rental place closed right when the alarm problem began.
Good news is there is very cold air conditioning in rental cars and the window goes up and down freely.
For now, I'll leave it at that.

On another note, the happy day of the free tree being moved to the back yard suddenly turned sour. The tree seems to have died a quick death. It's gray and somewhat crispy today. Okay, brittle even. I feel a little like Charlie Brown sometimes. You know how when they touched the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, the needles all fell off with that little clinking sound. The free tree's leaves do that now. Is the doctor in?

But some other good news is that Cael pressure cleaned the awnings that have been down since tropical storm Ernesto, plus he did the back patio and other areas. Soon I will be able to open the awnings again and see the light.
Bad news is that now I have to paint EVERYTHING... worse, I have to decide on paint colors. What was I thinking! I should have been laboring over this for months. Paint color is not a one day decision. I know... I'll stall by priming first.

That's all for now. My nerves are shot. I'm gonna have to sleep with the car clicker in hand. My neighbors have been listening to the alarm go off all day. Introducing the dagger sounds of loud honking into the darkness of night as well isn't going to make me real popular.

Silly Free Tree Video

Once upon a time, about 3 or 4 years ago, a tree popped up out of nowhere and grew in our front yard. It was considered a "bad" tree by Florida standards. It was a carrotwood or carrothead, or something related to carrots. I can never remember. Anyway, during the hurricanes of '04 it toppled and we had to chop it down. A sad day. Despite the fact that it was a "bad" tree, it had grown very quickly and gave lots of shade and I found it to be rather beautiful. I lamented its demise.

Then one day out of the blue, another free tree popped up in the exact same place, growing right at the base of the oleander bush. Only this was a completely different type that I like to think is some sort of Florida Oak, but you can tell that I make these things up because I'm too lazy to look them up. Anyway, this puppy of a tree grew very quickly and within the past two years has grow quite a bit. Since our backyard was stripped of the orange and grapefruit trees recently, I decided we should transplant the free tree to the back yard and let the oleander have it's space (and perhaps this will give it room to produce a new one for me). So today, Cael finally moved the free tree for me, and so I share with you the joy of having a new tree in the back yard... shade and all. Waalaa!

Math in a New Light

Just caught part of the NOVA film, Einstein's Big Idea, tonight, which apparently debuted last year. It expounds upon some of Einstein’s brilliant observations that revolutionized physics, in particular, e=mc2. This film captured a moment I never grasped by way of a text book. It was the producer, Gary Johnstone’s, take on Einstein’s creative observation and insight which translated into a sort of creative comprehension of Einstein’s theories on light, matter and energy in me. It is amazing how much more interesting something so flat-lined like math or physics can be when someone points to the story surrounding the facts. In the film, attention to the details of observation, supported by a peek into the cast of supporting characters in Einstein’s world, whom we would never meet in the same way in a classroom, makes the story behind the facts come to life. What a difference to be captivated by learning through art rather than to be taught a lesson. As a kid you have seemingly unending facts crammed into your head. Surprising the ones that stick, maybe even more so that any do. For me, the ones that did certainly weren’t about e=mc2. Yet in another moment, craftsmen and artists can spin all those facts into something personal and meaningful.

Gary Johnstone, the director and producer of Einstein’s Big Idea took some flack for playing out the drama of the story, but how else would you captivate those for whom math and science has always been painfully alien. I found it completely fascinating the way in which the math of creativity came into play in Einstein’s life. You know, I think I actually enjoyed math tonight! I must have as I found myself sitting forward, chin in hands, watching and listening for more. Bravo Gary Johnstone! This is a huge accomplishment. But then the film did mention electromagnetic fields too and we all know that there has been a recent interest on my part in that subject.

My imagination and interest were especially sparked during the scene when Einstein began to grasp that light is the constant in the universe. This thought and those surrounding it were fascinating to me. I will have to watch this again as the story moved on while I was contemplating all of this.

It appeared from the portrayal in this film that Einstein found himself in an intense observational niche that seemed to build for a time, as often happens with creative people. Once the creative’s eyes are opened to what God has placed within the range of their senses, their insight goes into overdrive and it’s nearly impossible for them to stop “seeing”.

"The whole of science is nothing more than a refinement of everyday life"
-This quote has been attributed to a number of people including Albert Einstein. I'll have to look into it further.

But whomever said it, perhaps if we all spent a little more time refining everyday life and being a bit more observant, who knows what any of us might come up with.


"After a certain high level of technical skill is achieved, science and art tend to coalesce in esthetics, plasticity, and form. The greatest scientists are always artists as well."
—Albert Einstein

Cool stuff.

Casey's soccer & The Post-Game "Girl Fight"

ImageReCap

Something has gone painfully wrong with my photobucket upload capabilities and I've wasted my day on it. So I figured out how to do this with some of my favorite black and white photos, which was some consolation. However, I, of course, can't view it with my aol browser and that just stinks. And what am I gonna do without a way to upload video? Someday maybe all the computers and browsers and software will learn to just get along and the "electromagnetic phenomenon" that plagues me will be a thing of the past. A girl can dream...

Everyday is a winding road...

The craziness didn’t end after the trunk popping phenomenon I told you about on my last post, instead it manifested itself anew the next day. I had to stop no less than 25 times the next day and evening due to continual trunk popping. The drive home from work was completely freaky and my nerves were shot and of course it was raining on top of it. At one point, the trunk began closing itself too. That was about all I could take. Later that night Cael was outside on the phone in the front yard and said the trunk popped twice while parked in the driveway when he was out there. Then as he closed it, it just kept popping. It was really bizarre (like Herbie the Love Bug gone whacked) but thankfully it has once again taken to remaining as it should. It must have been caused by some sort of intense barometric pressure or something scientific or mathematic which would, of course, elude me. Now that the tropical storm is over, so is the popping. I feel almost sane again. I know, the thought of me and "sane" in the same sentence is sort of funny.

But one odd event isn’t enough. This week on an afternoon drive to pick Casey up from school, I was sitting at the light at Prosperity and Lighthouse when I saw in my rearview mirror, three really cute mylar birthday balloons making their way down the street toward me past the SUV in line behind me. They seemed to be making a flying run for it but in sort of a flowy, balloon-in-the-wind way, and I watched to see where they would go, wondering if they had come untied from someone’s mailbox nearby or floated out of a car window. They sidled right up to my open windows as if having chosen me to catch a ride with and latched onto the passenger sideview mirror. Their brightly colored ribbons and plastic tie down thingys at the ends wound themselves around the mirror while the balloons themselves continued on and tried to pass in front of my windshield. I had been at the light a while and figured I’d better get the strings detangled from my mirror quickly so they could be on their way because I couldn’t see past them to drive once the light changed. But they wouldn’t come undone. With no time to spare, I threw it in park, undid my seatbelt, leaned over the passenger seat and began to reel them in from my awkward position. I sensed that the light had changed and I was still reeling, but thankfully those behind me were enjoying the unfolding scenario and the resulting fishing expedition, wondering what would become of the gypsy balloons. I managed to snag them without undue hassle, threw the car back in drive and realized I had been sitting at the green light with lots of empty road in front of me for at least 10 seconds. You ARE aware that 10 static seconds in a car at a green light is enough to create road insanity in fellow drivers. It also brings a certain level of fear to the driver sitting in park, I might add. So I took off as fast as I could, feeling sort of like I had just robbed a bank and was making off with the goods. I was wondering if perchance the people behind me had lost the three pretty balloons and whether they might have a manic three year old in the back screaming for her lost treasure and were thinking me a thief. But when that car turned off to another street a while later, I relaxed and began wishing I had a birthday to celebrate to make use of my little gift from heaven, though none came to mind. I pulled into the school parking lot and Casey walked over with that scrunched up look on her face, where the left side of her mouth curls up and the left eye squints in quizzical fashion. She wanted to know what was with the balloons. I gave her a quick recap about the gift from heaven and asked her if any of her friends were having a birthday that day. She smiled slowly and she looked off and told me it was her friend Chelsey’s birthday the day before, so the balloons changed hands and off they went to their new owner. Perfect. I loved it. This is what it's like to be me while driving.

But it doesn’t end there. Now Mary, I had a sighting this morning while on my way to work that reminded me of our life back in the day. Remember PSSSSSSSSSSSTTTT or however it was spelled. I remember you using it when I was probably in elementary or Jr. High. It was powdery stuff to put in one's hair that made the accumulated greasiness less apparent. It was billed at the time in a positive light as something like dry shampoo, just a way to clean your hair without water. Right, whatever. More like soaking up grease with baking soda. But people weren’t as shower conscious in those days and there were only like three other brands of shampoo back then, Prell, Clairol and No More Tears. Okay, there was also Herbal Essence and Suave, but not much else. Needless to say, self-perceptions were different, hair care was not the art it has become.

So this morning, I had just pulled up to the light at Military while on PGA and there to my left and across a lane was this pretty blond woman using the rearview like she was in the bathroom at home. She was brushing up sections of hair at a time and sprinkling baby powder in her hair, then floofing and brushing and primping each part like she was stylist to the stars, only to do another section and another and another without skipping a beat. She chose her red lights well, as this particular light is the second longest in the PBG area by my standards, so she had plenty of time to change her clothes as well, had she so desired. She didn’t do that as far as I could tell, and she didn't look trashy or unkempt. She was a very attractive young business-looking woman who apparently has poor hygiene and is short on time but finds hair degreasing a necessity and feels dousing her head in baby powder while at stoplights a socially acceptable practice... well, now everyone on the street knows her secret. Come on ladies! Where is the mystery? So maybe it’s a great quick-fix she learned from some fashion magazine, but are no beauty secrets sacred and left to the privacy of home anymore? I was staring, and I mean hard to see if she would notice and be embarrassed... and she didn’t bat an eye. She had a lot to do at that light let me tell you. I dared her in my mind to even look around nervously to see if she’d been busted, but no! She didn’t even give so much as a sideways glance in any direction. Didn’t care. How did she not feel me boring my eyes into her head? This isn’t the 70’s and I haven’t seen PSSSSSSSSTTTT since Farrah hair was the rage (and I think Farrah is like 60 now... yeah.) I am so continually amazed by people. But more so, I am always amazed by what goes on when I'm on the road.

today's phenomenon

I’ve always thought I have some weird electromagnetic field going because I used to stop at intersections at night and the street lights near me would go out all the time. It was freaky. I also have some sort of bizarre effect on cars where the air conditioners don’t want to run cold when I am at the wheel. Then there is the power window that will go down but not up unless it is near 90 degrees and sunny. Oh yeah, we can't forget back when the TV used to randomly turn off or on over the course of about a year, like someone was outside with a remote. Now that was electromagnetic weirdness.

But today was ridiculous. On top of all the usual stuff which I have adjusted to, I got in the car to pull out of my driveway and I thought I heard the trunk pop open randomly. At first I figured it was my imagination because I knew I hadn’t pushed the button on the key ring. Yet I was pretty sure I heard a sound that only a trunk popper makes, so I got out to check. Sure enough, it was open. I slammed it back down and drove on wondering a faint sort of wonder about it. I got to PGA and Military and while I was sitting at the light “clunk!” the trunk popped up again like my electromagnetism was back on the loose. I tilted my head like a perplexed dog. I could have yelled out loud about it too because frankly I'm prone to talking out loud while I drive. It seems to quell bad drivers if I talk them down from their erratic driving as they enter my field of vision. Of course they never hear me, I just annoy my passengers. But this trunk popping just weirded me out. My hand had definitely been no where near the trunk button this time; the keys were there dangling in the ignition quietly on their own. There I was, in the front of the line of traffic and I had to get out while at the light, run to the back of my car to slam the thing down. I couldn’t take a chance that it might pop all the way up while I was driving and have all that junk in there flying around for other drivers to see. Yes, Heaven knows I need to clean it out and have needed to for about 15 years. How embarrassing it suddenly seemed. Usually a trunk is a great place to use as a holding tank. Of course, that was when trunk lids stayed shut until opened on purpose. I still think it’s a great storage space for the most part, except during weekly trips to the grocery store when I pop the trunk to put the groceries in and there before the bag boy’s eyes I have to exclaim in feigned amazement... like where did all this come from and why didn’t those kids of mine remember to take all this stuff out... like it’s some bizarre anomaly outside of my normal realm.

So then today, after a full day of work, I got in my car to come home, and “clunk” it popped AGAIN while driving in mad traffic. Do you know what this does to a person’s level of control when at the wheel? I’m high strung enough, do I really need a random popping-trunk phenomenon to deal with? It put me so on edge. I think the fact that it popped again, and this time in the evening, rules out any Candid Camera stuff. Who’d want to wait around all day following me just to pop it on me again? It was just another in a wide range of true flukes that grace my life, my crazy electromagnetic life. Could it have something to do with the barometric pressure from the storm? Have trunks been popping all over South Florida and I just haven’t heard about it yet? Well, if it suddenly becomes all the rage, just remember you heard it here first.

I had to do it

It just seemed right considering...

Unearthing the past

I just looked out the front window and was amazed to see the whole street ablaze with the wattage from my front porch light. And I'm lighting up my neighbor's house across the street like we're about to film some late night reality TV. Nobody on the block really needs a front porch light if mine is on. I think I need to pay a little more attention to the bulbs I'm buying. I tend to be a one-bulb-fits-all person. I'm surprised no one on my block has complained about insomnia recently, and I'm just wondering what this Hollywood glow is gonna do to the electric bill. If needed, I could spot a burglar three houses down from between the slats of my blinds at 2 am thanks to the light projecting from just outside my front door. The coverage is that good.

But that's not the reason I was writing. I'm writing because I've been going through some sort of super funky minimalist phase lately and the need to clear ugly and superfluous junk from my surroundings has been after me to the point of distraction. I keep finding myself at the cusp of every great idea pointed first backwards to deal with the rather un-fun, underlying stuff in order to get things ready for change. So in an attempt to head in new directions and make an area like my kitchen more wonderful, it became obvious I had to clean out the cabinets first. I thought a day would do it. That thought wasn't on target with reality.

Aside from unearthing many items I could sell, toss or give away, I began to discover a lot of memories crammed in with the kitchen junk. I’ve kept old calendars and a few old address books from back in the early 90's, and while they take up space and make a mess, I just can’t throw them away. Once in a while I go back and see what I was doing on a nondescript day "back when" and see who I was in touch with. I rarely look at them except on the very off chance I'm cleaning out the kitchen once a decade or so. I had barely begun looking through one of the address books when I found all sorts of enticing little scraps of paper of various size, color and shape. Long forgotten names and numbers from what now seems a different culture altogether were slipping from between the pages. It's almost like I dreamed those days and those people. I conjured up the old faces as best I could from their names and then found other names I had actually been trying to remember just last week. I was reminded of how many lives it seems we lead over the course of our time and how many people come and go only to be a part of our world for a relatively short time, though it seemed like forever at the time. Funny what I remember of some of the people. What do they remember of me? Do they have odd little pictures and quaint memories of specific things I said, like I do of them? Do they remember much more than I remember of those days or nothing at all because they didn’t keep their calendars and address books scrunched up in kitchen drawers?

Then I began to read the notations on the pages of the calendars. It was like sneaking a look into a past that belongs to someone else. The things I was doing seem odd and out of place now, yet were all a part of my very life and who I am today. So much daily stuff that I can now clearly see was creating a way for me to get to here. I would have very little recollection of so many of the details if it wasn't scrawled out there in my scrappy handwriting. I saw month after month of notations indicating things that had to be done because of painful circumstance when the world was upside down. Weekly events and consistent friendships were right there spelled out with ink. And I saw the evidence of time with friends and family. In those everyday events and in the names of constant friends who were our life, many of whom still are, I saw evidence of how God was taking us through to who we were to become. Pivotal days and events that would appear at the time to be just another thing to do or a reminder of where to be and when, was really much more. Each stroke of the pen signifies the moments of my life ticking by... my one and only life, the markings there are really anything but insignificant calendar notations. They tell me in part why I made it through and when I should have done more or less, where my focus was on target and where I slipped up. Looking back at our lives like that is like finding something hidden and new despite the fact that it's old and done. It's like unearthing our own history from an outsider's viewpoint, because we are outsiders to that time and place now. It’s all somewhat odd in light of today. And it’s treasure. Those were moments just like this one. It's a hard lesson to remember because even now I tend to forget that the moments today are forging who I’ll be tomorrow and who I’ll be another 20-some years down the road. What did I do today that would make an interesting archeological dig during some other kitchen cleaning in the future? I wonder. What patterns will I find in looking back one day? If the calendars of the past are any indication of what it was that defined me, then I’d better include the people of my day, the moments we shared and not just the cleaning I did. That said, it would be important to add that Casey assisted my efforts today by going online to look up the value of items I found buried there in the deep. She would try to give me an idea of whether we had anything valuable on our hands. Cally and I spent some time together shopping for college items later in the afternoon, and then we met up with some new friends who passed on a mini fridge for her to take to school. Just being together, which so rarely happens lately, we were moving one step closer to the next moment, making choices together and seeing God provide. Cally and I stopped for a smoothie, because we were within range of Tropical Smoothie. I’m starting to understand the pattern now. I guess we are required to stop there if we come within a half a mile. It was good to share a smoothie. It was good too, to drive to Paul and Lynette’s and have Paul hand over the keys to his red convertible so we could have a second car for the next two weeks. I mean it was good that they would allow God to use them yet again to meet a need of ours. As far as Cally being behind the wheel of a red convertible for the next two weeks, hmmm... well then, that could be another story altogether...

Who Rules

I’m an image junkie - I don’t deny this. With years of conviction behind me and a spiritual sticking point that usually fends off most of the blatant blows, it still happens that sneaky voices and enticing images slither in and make themselves at home. It usually happens unnoticed and I’d say they most often come in disguise, brought to me by the talent and cunning of the image weavers. There have been magic moments too, the kind where a window into something incredible is played out in a way that seems meant just for me. I know... we think we are self-directed, thoughtful people, independent and astute, but we’re not. I hate to be the one to break the news, but we are weak-willed and gullible in the hands of the creative. Storytellers rule the culture.

Something happened last night while we watched the imperceptible blending of images or as we bathed in the words and rhythms. We were drawn into a story, as we often are, sitting in the dark, holding hands with the remote, mesmerized by the lives of the characters we cozy up to. Their behavior “became” us, maybe repulsed us, maybe intrigued or attacked us. Maybe it humored or even inspired us. Their language spoke to a place in there that always seems to be crying out to be spoken to. What was said echoes in our heads still today. Which place did it speak to this time? Did we hear what we needed, or was it simply like a salty snack and a can of coke, something that hit the spot of the moment?

We turn it off, we turn it on, it’s neither here nor there really. It’s just a show, just a movie, just advertisement, just diversion of course. But it isn’t just a show or a movie or an advertisement... of course. Someone tweaked and planned, spent fantastic sums of money, consulted and rehearsed to create flatscreen images that would be reborn 3-D in our lives, whether with one well-placed line, or episode by episode solidifying a premise, and sometimes culminating years down the road, a testament to patient, painstaking effort. Someone’s on the other side hoping their voice will be remade inside of us tomorrow. And it WAS remade the minute we ourselves, our hands-on selves, began repeating the lines, the moment we did or maybe even didn’t realize that we were conveying a tone of voice invoked by the spin of “the creative”, or when we retold that joke or adopted a mannerism or a way of thinking, or when we allowed what we've spectated to become a personal reality that we now play out with our own voices, what we now consider to be our “personal” thoughts. It all became 3-D after all, at our own hands.

Seems some of the fantasy stays behind. Some of it’s been staying behind since the first time we lay on a Saturday morning floor as close to the box as we could get to watch Looney Tunes. That’s a lot of time, a lot of influence. The sway of the music and tones of voice, classic lines and attitudes about the world and our place in it - what to accept, what to reject, who to love and hate; it has “become” us, in essence made us, formed us, and it shows up even imperceptibly and unnoticed. And we are the ones who give it permission. Someone we don’t even know has decided more than we’d care to give them credit for. Someone has colored many of our thoughts in shades we’d probably rather not have allowed onto our color palate had we really given it any thought. Often even carelessly, and with a strong desire to be entertained, we meld and transform under the guiding hand - of whom? Who are these “guides” we’ve given our hearts permission to follow?

I know how moving images can be. At any given moment you can find me nearly obsessed and completely absorbed in them, ignoring food, people and the the common sense of the hour hand. I know from the “other side” how images incite deep heart change because I am an image weaver myself. Can’t fool me about it; I’m in on the whole thing. Words and pictures carefully placed to sway to the sounds and the mood will mesmerize us into a deliberate thought or feeling, even move us to action - sometimes nurturing, sometimes suffocating both our character and our future - and always challenging who we would become. In the moment, aroused by feeling, incited by image, we will move. One way or another, chances are we won’t sit still. Which way we move depends on which voice and which image we grant an ear and an eye to. Which way today?

“Be careful, or you will be enticed to turn away and worship other gods and bow down to them...

...Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates, so that your days and the days of your children may be many in the land that the Lord swore to give your forefathers, as many as the days that the heavens are above the earth.” Deuteronomy 11:16-21

My video experiment

I have finished the armoire painting. Well, almost. I still have to paint the feet, but I'm not counting that. In my mind, it's finished because the doors are back on and the new knobs are in place.

I discovered that I can upload video now via photobucket, so I am going to give it a try here on this post. If it works, you will be able to see what I have accomplished so far in the room. You have to have Flash 8 or higher, I think, to play it. So make sure you have it.

Meanwhile, forget about the fact that I have yet to paint the room, find a new covering for the closet that is currently being hidden by the old curtain fabric which no longer matches. I also need to get my new dresser and to tackle some sort of floor covering, move the chest out and decide whether or not to paint the mirror. The curtains need some touches of the other colors that are in the accent pillow, but I have yet to figure out exactly what those touches will be. There's nothing on the walls either. How the heck did I feel at all accomplished about any of it? Oh yeah, because I finally painted the armoire. And I did remove the headboard (even though it is still sitting in the living room). For now, here is what I've done: Please ignore the sad video and editing quality as this was a hurried little test project.

Oh Thank Heaven for 7/11/06

What could end my blogging silence after all these months? Just one incredible event. A national holiday which much of the country seems unaware of, and one which brings good taste and good cheer to any willing to accept a little something for free. That’s right, today was 7/11. Yes indeedy. Free slurpees in honor of 7-11’s 79th year. It doesn’t take much to make my day does it?

Cally tested the waters early this morning, venturing out for this once a year summer holiday deal, but she came up short. Seeing no sign of little cups sitting around and not wanting to ask, she missed out. What was she thinking! I was at work and could be of little help when her slurpee 911 call came in. But it left me a bit distressed. What if they had ended the free-for-all on 7/11? After all we’d been waiting for this day all year. I was pumped, counting down the days. It’s on our calendar for goodness sakes... So after work, Casey and I buckled up and headed a few blocks over (unfortunately Cally was at work by this time) and with fingers crossed, went hoping like crazy that the tradition continued. As Casey went in, I was a bit nervous; I watched three individuals exit the building with regular slurpees of various sizes, fearing they too had come for a delicious deal only to be disappointed into buying one. But within moments I could see Casey sipping her way through the store with a mini-cup in each hand, sauntering out without stopping at the register. Yes! That’s what I was talking about! And beyond that, check out these little cups! Aren’t they too much?


Clearly, the cup made the event even better than last year.


Just 7.11 oz in size, they were the perfect amount of free frozen goodness. (Cups shown appear larger than actual size). Just enough to drink without it melting on the way home. Until next 7/11 rolls around, we will continue our time-honored tradition of buying full-priced slurpees every time one of the kids do the lawn (at this point, that usually means Casey). As you can imagine, with the afternoon showers hitting during the summer, the grass is growing like crazy and the slurpee budget is out of control. Perhaps you understand now my overblown thrill over a free cup of the ice-cold brain-freezing slush. Gotta love it. And when the heck are they gonna bring back the orange slurpees? That was 7-11’s finest hour creating that flavor. It brought back the memory of how as little kids we used to sneak Johnson and Johnson orange baby aspirin from the medicine cabinet in Mom and Dad's bathroom. 7-11’s orange slurpee had a taste probably born of some other orange asprin-eating kid's fond childhood memory.

And no, my parents weren't totally neglectful...we were just sneaky.

Don't worry. We survived.


All I can say is...Oh thank heaven!

Unspent Riches

I see that I haven't posted since Christmas, a fact I was aware of, but one which now that I really think about it is a striking indicator of the freakishly rapid passage of time. Perhaps if I write, the time will somehow miraculously hit slow motion. It's mid-March and I haven't written so much as a word anywhere since January, except for daily e-mails. But that's not what's really amazing. Really amazing is the discovery I made this morning as Cally was about to leave for her job at Chick-Fil-A. Upon finding out that she gets off at 5:00, I asked her if perhaps this might be one of the lucky days when she would bring me home a Coke (for those who don't know, Coke is the equivilent to me that candy is to a little kid. Okay and to myself as well). I always thought as a teen that I would know I was rich when I could have Coke anytime I wanted, being as at the time, Coke was a precious commodity. It's still precious today. More precious being Coke in a styrafoam cup with a lid and straw, the best being a Chick-Fil-A cup. So I mustered up my courage (one must always have courage when asking Cally the hard questions) and asked if today she might lavish her love upon me and bring me home a Coke. It is a rare thing indeed for her to do so. I have probably, in 9 months of her employment there, been brought one or two Cokes. I told her I would pay her back when she got home. And here's the amazing discovery part. She just says, "You don't have to pay me... I get drinks for free." [Pause] [eyes shift] [mind whirls] [crazed look] I was standing in my mismatched flannel jammies with my slippers on at the open front door holding my hands to my head in disbelief at both my newly discovered luck and my newly discovered misfortune. This frenzied realization caused me to say, with the demeanor and tone of a madman..., "What!? All this time you could have been bringing me free Coke and you haven't?" It was like discovering one has been living like a Lake Park resident when they had a home they didn't know about on the ocean in Palm Beach or something. I was dumbstruck at the thought of all the free Coke gone to waste. I was rich and the riches had gone unspent. Cally just shook her head in her authoritative way and told me it was not in my best interest to drink Coke. Period. (Cally has always known what is best for those of us in this household, and out of it for that matter.) She fears I have done permanent damage to myself with excessive Coke drinking as it is and has no intention of contributing further to my eventual Coke-induced demise. She takes a Human Physiology class and knows stuff now. I assured her that I hardly ever have Coke (after all I didn't know I was rich) and that I normally have no more than one a week (with only occasional binge drinking), sometimes I have two Cokes a week. She assured me this is all I am allowed and that according to her teacher, one a week is the maximum allowable while maintaining good health. Cally likes to flaunt the ever present dangers of Coke to my insides, the potential weakening of my bones from it, and the horrors of the sugar count. She usually doesn't bother mentioning my Jeckyl and Hyde reaction to the substance, as this is an obviously well-known fact in our household. She reserves that argument for special occasions. So I can't say whether at the end of the day she will deem me the recipient of a Coke in a Chick-Fil-A styrafoam cup or not, but yesterday a great fate befell me (or what she would certainly consider my misfortune), I found an unopened can of Coke in the frige that I didn't know was there. The excitement at this discovery was like Christmas morning as a kid. I have been savoring the thought of it ever since and planning the most opportune moment of my day in which to enjoy it. Now, it doesn't compare to the excitement of a Coke in a Chick-Fil-A cup brought home at the loving hand of my benefactor, but so you know, I always save my Chick-Fil-A cups and reuse them for as long as possible. I have one right now that I have had for over a week. I kept my last one for three weeks, a fact which disgusts Cally. Hey, I wash it like any other cup. It makes every drink a treat. These are the simple joys. Now if I can just figure out how to get Cally to access our "bank account full of riches" and bring me free Coke everytime she works.

The Christmas Hats

It was another dress-up Christmas. I think as a rule, "matching" outfits are always welcome in our family. This group wears it well, that's for sure. The beanies were lovingly and painstakingly knitted, compliments of Mary. That's a lot of knitting!



It's Christmas night and the events of the holiday seem about over. I am exhausted but wanted to say one more "Merry Christmas" before it's over. Details of our celebration of the Greatest Gift will have to wait. I am working on a pictorial tour of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day that I need to find music for in order to finish. I have many things on video, culminating with an incredible dancing and singing extravaganza by Cally and Casey. That's one, however, that you simply must see AND hear to fully experience.



We are in the clean-up stages of the celebration now, thanks to Cally. I was going to let it wait, but if she's up to it, who am I to argue. I took Alka Seltzer Cold Plus to combat an extreme case of "allergy day" and it has stolen my verve.




I guess it's almost time to forge out some resolutions. I'm sure I'll get right on that.

Again, I hope your Christmas was the joy it was meant to be!



















Hey, it occurs to me a little too late that Zach did not make it out for the photo op. Awwww....

Thanksgiving Recap

There was reminiscing, video games and the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade...



There was pie and fudge making (Cael helped make one of the pumpkin pies), and whipped cream whipping...

There was turkey, stuffing and all that good stuff and lots of family and friends giving thanks amongst each other at our tables and sharing what we were thankful for. At our table there were thanks to God for a life that had turned around, thanks for a mentor who had helped someone out, someone who appreciated having a big family, someone grateful to God for time with kids, and lots more. There was a scrabble game, a group photo under the tree in the Kiedis front yard, a backyard football game, napping and movie plans...



There was an eventual movie - The Return of Zorro - There were personalities and fun, a few injuries and plenty of videotaping...



And on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, there was a traditional tree search at the Home Depot. It wasn't as traditional as we'd hoped, as they wouldn't actually let us in the tree tent because they hadn't had their fire inspection, so they brought trees out and and we picked quickly and from a limited selection. There was to be no traditional game of christmas tree hide and seek, and that left our now aging children a bit grumpy and attitudinal. Tommy, Daniel and Cael didn't make it for the big event, but Shannan and I managed to pick winner trees without them. When they'd been cut, paid for and bagged in netting, Paul loaded my tree along with theirs in their van and everyone came along to deliver it. In order to expidite tree picking, the kids all volunteered to help me pay part because I accidentally looked at an expensive tree on my first try and of course it was perfect. Once we discovered the true price, a new search began among the cheap trees and it was apparent to the kids that it might take a lot of looking again to find a suitable fir. They were against that. In the end, it was Cally who actually paid the extra $10, and off we went with our perfect Christmas tree. $47.98 with tax. I know. Outrageous. But it really smells great in the house.


The tree hunters.

And so the Christmas tree now stands in the living room all lighted but awaiting decorations and the start of a memorable christmas season. Cael was here long enough to do his part and put a couple of ornaments on the tree so he was at least able to be a part of it. Other than that we are waiting for a chance to get the decorating underway. It was supposed to happen today, but we haven't managed to find the time yet. Maybe tomorrow.

Oh yeah, the kids and some friends had a bonfire at the Kiedis home on Friday night after Thanksgiving too.



Cally and Bethany took about 25 photos of themselves doing goofy stuff that night. They resemble the photo booth photos we used to take as kids. Here's one:



Of course, there's more, but who has time for all the details. I will say I am thankful for a wonderful family and friends and a great thanksgiving to celebrate all God has done for us.


"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness." 2 Peter 1:3

The End of a Power Struggle

Clearing debris during the eye of Wilma.

Our nine day Power Struggle has ended and the last (I hope) of the debris has been raked from the front yard. I hope the event known as Wilma is over. Well, I know it’s not really over yet as much of the damaged items have not yet been repaired and the body of my orange tree still lays on it’s side, roots splayed out in a vertical plane as they dry and die in the Florida sunshine. I don’t want to get rid of it as the agriculture people may have been planning to take it as a result of a recent canker sighting in the area. If so, they are supposed to give me $150 at Walmart for each tree taken. I’d like to not only leave the work to them but also make something in the process if that’s possible. I am unsure of the effectiveness of my plan, but I can hope. Supposedly they will take my grapefruit tree too, and then, I am sorry to say, my yard will be officially naked and fruitless. And so goes life.


Orange tree down.


We also had the big grill going with three pots on it (manning that was my job). The kids had a bonfire after dinner in the backyard.

As for the end of the the power struggle, the power guys came yesterday morning as I was ready to walk out the door. They were greeted by my unbridled excitement as they got out of their truck and my neighbor lady next door was out there clapping for me. You see, our house was the lone powerless sucker in a sea of now bright front porch lights and had been for days. The guy told us both right away not to get too happy as he didn’t know that he could actually get my power back on. In fact he was only here it turns out to cut the downed wire and remove it. Oh great. But he said he would see how it looked and maybe he could do something. When he went out back, he took one look at the pole and told me there was no way he was climbing that thing and that the only way he’d even try to fix it was with the truck and the bucket and that he couldn’t be responsible for my yard. That meant driving the mega truck through my nice grass the entire length of my yard from the street to the back fence almost. He guaranteed huge ruts. Yikes! This was a dilemma. I asked him how long til FPL might get another person out to do it and he said, “Possibly two weeks, one if your lucky... and they might end up driving through the yard too”. I made a quick assessment in my head regarding continual plugging and unplugging of the generator, driving with an explosive device (my defective gas can) in my car every day (sometimes twice) for two more weeks along with the 10 to 20 dollars a day it was costing to run the generator depending on usage. I quickly assessed the mental torture of listening to whiny kids and the ear numbing sound of a generator right outside jalousey windows that sounds akin to having an airplane engine as a house guest 24/7. I pondered these cons along with a whole host of other related issues, not to mention the lack of a/c should the weather turn rainy, muggy or hot again (and after all, this IS Florida). I made my decision and chose door number two which came with ankle turning ruts in the grass and I prayed the guy could get back there without damaging the sprinkler heads and pipes and that he could actually connect the line to the pole after I allowed this invasion. I am happy to report that the sprinkler heads sidestepped destruction, at least this was in my favor. The two guys worked and sweated and lived their dangerous life and the one guy rode the bucket to the sky and touched power lines and brought life and TV back to our home...it doesn't get much better than that.

And so I bid my power guys a fond adieu and sent them off with what in my book is to be considered among the greatest gifts you can give power guys after they have risked life and electrocution for the comfort of some stranger... I offered them my last two ice cold Cokes. These are the Cokes I had been powering my fridge for all these days... well, the cokes and the Half and Half. Some things are so important they cause a person to behave erratically, like spending $20 dollars a day to keep the fridge cool enough for cream and Coke. It’s easy to be rendered senseless by our vices. I did finally begin using the power for only a couple hours in the morning and a couple at night to save gas (I come around to practicality sooner or later) and I learned to just transfer the cream and Coke to the “ice box” as needed when the generator was off then transfer them back to the fridge when I kicked it on again. It really would have been cheaper to drive to Dunkin Donuts and buy the world’s greatest coffee every morning rather than run the generator, but “people” don’t always use common sense. I will say I also used the generator to do my hair in the morning (also of considerable personal value), to make coffee in the morning, and to power the computer so I could send emails. Yeah, we also turned one lamp on a few times and I watched a few videos on the little VCR TV and managed to charge cell phones once. But we had to wean ourselves off the generator, especially when it sounded like we might be on its life support for another week. Oh, but those crazy days are over, I sure hope so anyway. Now it’s back to daily life. A well-stocked grocery store has been elevated to somewhere near the status of say Saks Fifth Avenue, it seems like a luxury store full of so many cool things. I was thrilled beyond thrilled to discover I even got cable back. I can’t wait to see a home show again! So much to enjoy, better get busy. You never know how much luxury you have until it’s gone for nine days. For the moment I am still finding a renewed appreciation for the many fine things I usually take for granted. I get a big burst of excitement, like I just won a cool prize, every time I get to go right through a green light at an intersection. Despite the red light runners who turn across your path well after their light has gone red, I love the traffic light system. It often feels chaotic and like the world’s longest wait, but no, four way stops at major intersections three lanes wide on each side plus two turn lanes on each side, that’s chaotic, especially when you also have 10 more times down the road at all the other smaller intersections to stop at too, even more chaotic when you realize how many people are talking on the phone while attempting this brave feat.


I noticed after last year’s hurricanes as well as this one, how cool it was to enjoy the things that don’t come by any other means these days except through the help of such natural disasters, at least not around here. Things like the sounds that come through open windows, conversations among neighbors that otherwise seldom happen, walking across the street with a laundry basket to do wash at a neighbor’s home because they have the power to help and the heart to share, the feeling you get looking out past your window through the darkness to see candlelight glowing through your neighbors windows. Front doors wide open, everyone out and about in their yards and working with their hands, helping and sharing what ice they have, giving tips on the best gas lines and how far you might have to go for hot coffee or cold dairy, and which road might have a working signal. It was like being back in a 60’s childhood where we all felt sort of like we didn’t have much and yet we had so much. For reasons such as this, hurricane season hasn’t soured me. Of course, my unshuttered windows somehow held like they were sealed with super glue, my computers and tapes were unharmed and intact. Sure, the world’s greatest orange tree went down and took the cable and power lines with it, the gutters were all stripped from their screws, the new lattice is history, much of the food we had didn’t make it through all the offs and ons of power and generators, the generator gas cost as much as a big month’s electrical bill, and as expected, the back room flooded. But those things are just like getting a skinned knee while playing Kick the Can. Because of Wilma (Wilma, another 60’s favorite from our cartoon loving Saturdays) if you want to think of it that way, we had a week-plus to re-pace, and God provided. Friends and family were kind and let us share the storm with them and share their food and their company, their generator and their lives.


Together is better, especially when it comes to yard work.

Life is interesting and people are generous and giving and you know, somehow, someway, we will have citrus fruit and shade in our backyard again one day. Certainly we will. Can you see me like Scarlett O’Hara with my fist full of dirt saying over and over as the sun sets behind me, Tara, Tara., Taraaaaaa.... or maybe I should say, Greenbriar, Greenbriar, Greenbriar. Nah, that doesn’t work.

Besides, it’s not the place so much, it’s the people, it’s always the people.

But having a home to lay your head IS pretty nice, even by candlelight.

And by the way, I am officially the mother of three teenagers today. When do they hand out the medals? Hmmm... that's what I thought. But then who needs medals, look who came into my life 13 years ago today...

Tell Me It "Ain't" So!

“Ain’t” ain’t in the dictionary, so “ain’t” ain’t a word.” How many times did we hear that growing up? Well I found out today that apparently that saying just “ain’t so”. What’s up with that?

You see, I had no idea! It seems, much to my surprise, that “ain’t” IS in the dictionary and "ain't" IS a word and nobody sent me notification. When did this happen? When did they change the rules of engagement with regard to the snappy comebacks used on us in our childhood... comebacks we can no longer legitimately use on our kids. I feel ripped off. Stripped of some superpower that once belonged to me. I am just glad I found out in the privacy of my own home. What if I had gone and used that little saying in public with some young whippersnapper and then watched as he pushed his glasses further up onto his nose, whipped out his pocket dictionary then and there, and proceeded to set me straight. How humiliating would that have been. They (whoever "they" are) should let parents know when they change the basis of standard-issue sayings. This just ain't right. And what 60’s warp have I been in? I guess I haven’t read the dictionary lately. Shame on me, right? I mean I know I live in a 60’s warp as far as certain modern conveniences go; like we have no disposal, no dishwasher, no automatic ice-maker and no water or ice in the fridge door, and we still have laminate countertops and a room air conditioner and a manual-open garage door, but why do I have to find out in shock horror from my 12 year old, on what began as a regular Thursday afternoon, that “ain’t” IS in the dictionary, after all these years. I feel so disenchanted with the world. Can they just do these things without a vote? You know why I found out about this travesty today? It was “Little Women”, I tell ya. Seems the kids had to give their own dictionary definitions of words from the book, words they didn’t know the meaning of. Casey didn’t exactly know what to say “ain’t” meant, so she looked it up (a habit we applaud). I suppose the fact that she thought it would be in the dictionary means I must not have preached the little “ain’t” thing often enough, which is yet another blow to my parental standing. I guess I ain't even been using my rightful arsenal like I should. Of course, maybe Casey's just always had an exceptional grasp of the English language and holds to higher standards with regard to her vocabulary. That would make me feel better. Perhaps though, it suggests (ugh) that possibly (I know this will be a stretch for you all to take this in), but just possibly... I don’t know everything. Ooooh, that’s just too much to fathom, ain't it? But it’s out of the bag now; you all finally know the truth... I don’t know it all. (Gasp!) Of course after today’s lesson from my young teacher, I now do. However, up until this afternoon, I was at least one fact shy of it all. This is my confession of the day. Please tell me that you too were clueless that our sing-song “ain’t” saying was archaic. I do know that “they” are rewriting the dictionary all the time and removing and adding words, but I did not know they had bumped this one up to "real word" status and apparently it happened quite some time ago. Please tell me you would have still used the old saying in good faith if I had not enlightened you. Please tell me I am not alone. Pretty please.


Addendum: Upon spell checking my post,I found that while "ain't" may be in the dictionary now, the Imac spell check dictionary still refuses to recognize “ain’t” as a word. Bravo Apple! Bravo. When it comes down to it, we can still use the little ditty if we add in fine print a disclaimer about the apple spell check dictionary.
"Ain't" ain't in the dictionary (Apple spell check volume 2003 for iMac G3 Appleworks software)(sorry, I couldn't get the font to go small, so it loses the disclaimer effect) so "ain't" ain't a word. Yeah, that'll do it.

Quirky Home Show

Here are the still images from video I took of the living and dining rooms. You may not notice a drastic change looking at the pictures. But do you notice the difference in my mantle area? I still don't like the bricks painted brown. I think it needs to be stuccoed over and then painted. The bricks still look like fake chocolate to me. Kind of odd. But you know how these things are... once they've been there a while, you sort of quit noticing them anymore. That's why it would be in my best interest to get on with it before too long. After all, that old wallpaper and chair rail that Casey and I took down are a prime example of that. Do you even remember what it used to look like? Shoot! I should find some old "before" pictures so you can see the difference. Okay, that'll be next on the list, that and posting some images from Cally's surprise 17th birthday party. It was great! We had about 45 people, mostly high school seniors and college age kids with a little variation here and there. Lots of eating and playing volleyball, football and ultimate frisbee! And a lot of jumping in the pool to cool off. The temperature was seriously hard on everyone.


Here's the living room. Oh, I guess you can't even see the wall that we took the wallpaper and chair rail off of. What a lame videographer! Wait, no... the whole mantle wall had wallpaper and chair rail going across it. What am I thinking? I guess, even I have forgotten what it looked like.



The dining room looking into the living room.



Here are the shelves. I painted them the same color as the walls. They used to be all white.

The Reveal

Seeing as it's Friday, and Friday is a great home show night on TV, I think it fitting to finally post the reveal of Casey's room. I still feel we need to paint the walls, but since Cael and I just painted it a year ago and I just painted much of the rest of the house within the last month or so, and the color is sort of neutral, we are foregoing the final touch of painting for a while. We did well to get the room this far, this fast if I do say so myself.

So, Here it is. Please note the beach towel curtains and the day bed with adjustable arms that go up for a couch-like, daytime sitting area, or lie flat for sleeping.



Quite cool! The rug has a match to it in the bathroom where there is also a shower curtain that coordinates with the flower pattern on the towels and pillow. Yeah, we are quite happy with it. We also have a large picture to hang on the wall, but the wall is concrete block, and it's not that simple to drill anything into concrete block, so that is yet another project on hold. One of these days we'll do a room and complete it all at the same time. I'm hoping anyway.



Another view:



There is also a green lava lamp there on one of the cubes that looks really nice with everything. Very 60's groovy. Pretty cool the way it turned out, seeing as it's all of about 6 x 10 feet downstairs below the loft. Feels amazingly spacious for a room the size of walk-in closet.

And here is the occupant. She is demonstrating the official facial expression for her teenage years.



But that was just a ruse. She's always got a smile in there somewhere. She's such a good sport.


But we probably haven't seen the last of that look.

So there you have it. Now it's almost time for more home shows to inspire me to new decorating heights. You know, maybe I will film the other room we recently worked on and make you some still frames of that too. I know... you can hardly wait. Woo hoo!