Out with the old, in with the new

In just a few moments, 2011 will come to a close in the Central Time Zone.

I said good-bye to a few things this year:

* my gallbladder -- don't miss it, should have gotten rid of it lots sooner
* the beautiful trees in my backyard -- miss them a lot, but don't miss worrying       about them when the wind blows
* my purple mittens -- will always miss them  : ( 
* gray hair -- at least my highlights camouflage most of it
* misplaced hope -- too complicated to sum up in a pithy comment
* a friendship I treasured -- life goes on and people grow apart . . . get over it

I know that 2012 will bring new losses, but I also know that the new year will bring additions.  I hope I can willingly relinquish all that I stubbornly hold onto in order to free up my hands and my heart for the new blessings and challenges that God wants to give me.

One thing that was new in my life in 2011 that I have genuinely enjoyed and look forward to enjoying in 2012 is (ab)normal.  This is my 190th blog post!  It has been fun, and sometimes not so fun, to share my thoughts and ideas.  I am proud that I was able to fulfill my commitment to blog at least three times per week and to write a Thankful Thursday post weekly.  It wasn't always easy, but it was worthwhile.  I hope to do the same next year.

Good-bye 2011.  Hello 2012.  I hope it will truly be a happy new year from start to finish.  

Alone again, naturally

Just when I think I've gotten used to being alone, I realize that I really haven't.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve and it will just be G and I, hanging around the house, doing nothing.

E and N are in Michigan with N's family.  N's sister and her husband (A and B) just had a baby boy early this morning.  I'm glad that I is here safely and surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins that love him and have been eagerly awaiting his arrival. 

K is in New York City.  She flew out early this morning and spent the day exploring the city until she could meet up with the friend/co-worker who she's staying with for the weekend.  I don't think K is going to hang out in Times Square for NYE, but she's a spur of the moment kind of girl, so who knows. 

M is staying overnight with friends tonight and then tomorrow everyone is going to Wisconsin for the weekend.  One of her friends' family has a cabin near Twin Lakes and the whole family and extended crew are heading north to celebrate the new year.

G went to bed at 8:15 this evening.  Usually he manages to stay up until 9:00, but he did get up pretty early to take K to the airport, so I'm sure he's tired.  It's not like he would want to hang out with me and watch the "We had a 6-6 record so we deserve to play in the post-season Bowl" on television.  Actually I'm watching the Insight Bowl and Iowa is losing to Oklahoma.  Even though I don't like Iowa, I was taught that when it comes to bowl games and March Madness, you root for the Big Ten, so I'm hoping Iowa can pull out the win but it's not looking good. 

So, I'm alone and I guess I really do need to get used to it because the situation's not going to change.  : /

Thankful Thursday

This is the last Thankful Thursday post for the year.  Wow!

Having just spent Christmas with my mom and dad, I have to say that I am extremely thankful for my parents and the times that I've been able to be with them this past year.

It seems as if I was able to get to Decatur more often and stay for longer periods of time this year than any time in the past several years.  I suppose some of that is due to not having any children living at home who needed me to drive them places or do their laundry.  Whatever the reason or reasons, I am grateful for the opportunities I've had to be with my mom and dad.

Some people are fortunate enough to live in the same town as their parents, maybe even in the same neighborhood!  That was never the case with me.  Since G and I were married, I have always lived three hours away from Mom and Dad.  It could have been a lot worse, especially if G had been transferred to Dallas in the early 80's.  But it also could have been a lot nicer to live closer, especially when the kids were little.

I know I've said this before, but I am keenly aware of the passage of time and the reality that my parents won't always be waiting for me to pull in their driveway.  The day will come when they won't be able to work all day in the garden and then work another five hours to can the green beans that they picked and snapped.  Already they are slowing down (heck, I'm slowing down too!) but they still are a vital part of my life and my family's life. 

It is hard to imagine the day when I won't be able to see them or call them, but that day will come.  For now, I am grateful for every day I have with them, every phone call, every card, every memory.  And I am grateful to God for giving me such wonderful parents!

I love you, Mom and Dad.  : )          

Just when I thought there was light at the end of the tunnel . . .

I realized it was really the giant headlight of a 125-car freight train.  : /

We are so close to the end of the year.  So close to making it to 2012 without another doctor visit, or worse.

So close . . . until today.

M had been complaining about her eye.  She's always complaining about something, so we ignored her.  This morning we couldn't ignore her any longer.

G took her to the convenient care.  And then he took her to the eye clinic.  She has a scratched cornea . . . again.  The doctor said he couldn't give her anything for her pain because it would cause her eye to become infected.  Makes absolutely no sense to me.  She does have a teeny tiny, super-expensive bottle of eye drops (combination of steroids and antibiotics) that she has to use twice a day for two days and then once a day for three days.  I hope she doesn't run out before the five days are up.

I know I should be glad that this happened while she was home instead of at school (like the first time).  And I should also be glad that she was able to be seen by the highly regarded eye clinic.  I should be really glad that we have insurance and that this episode is covered under major medical rather than optical, especially since the eye clinic doesn't take our optical insurance.

I should be glad -- like dancing around and toasting with champagne GLAD -- but I'm not.  Instead I'm pissed that this is just one more crappy thing in a year full of crappy things.  A year full of expensive, crappy things.

But what I need to remember is that there is always light at the end of the tunnel, and that light is called Jesus.  He came to bring light and life, even to whiners like me.

Thanks be to God!

Holiday letdown

The word for today was "blah."  Blah weather, blah emotions, blah, blah, blah.

Christmas is over and there is nothing to look forward to for quite some time.  I honestly can't think of anything to look forward to at all.

G and I do not have New Year's Eve plans.  I would have to think long and hard to remember the last time G and I did have NYE plans.  In 1990 we went to dinner at a friend's house; I was pregnant with M.  Maybe ten years ago I spent the evening with my friend J at her house and after the Times Square ball drop, I drove home. 

It would never occur to G that maybe I would like to do something besides sit around and watch movies where lots of people get blown up and die.  It would never occur to him to consider doing something fun.

So for me, a good NYE is one where I have a decent amount of alcohol on hand so that by the time I go to bed, I'm already halfway (or more than halfway) bombed so I don't have much time to lie in bed and cry before I pass out.

I can hardly wait.   

Merry Christmas!

And it truly was a Merry Christmas.

We were all able to gather at my parent's home in Decatur -- G and me, E, N, K, and M.  Even my brother and his wife came for brunch this morning.  It was nice to see them again so soon as we just saw them at Thanksgiving and we normally don't see them at both Thanksgiving and Christmas.

We went to the 5:00 service for Christmas Eve.  My aunt and uncle met us there and afterward they came back to my parent's house for dinner.  We had our traditional Christmas Eve lasagna.  : )

Also at church, we saw my cousin, his wife, and their children.  W is the best little boy ever and his sister, S, is getting so big!  She is almost 19 months old and a beautiful little girl; she looked especially precious in her dark green velvet dress with white "fur" trim on the long sleeves and all around the hem of her full skirt.  We were even able to persuade her to twirl for us.  : )

Christmas afternoon we walked down the street and around the corner to visit with Great-Aunt R.  Everyone in our family will tell you that she is a pistol, and Christmas Day was no exception.  She was by turns, feisty and a little sad.  We talked about her husband, Uncle G, and that made her a little teary.  But in spite of the memories of loss, I know she was glad that we came to see her.  As she always says, "There's them that live right here in town that never come to see me."       

Over the course of the weekend we ate way too much food -- blackberry cobbler, sugar cookies, biscuits and gravy, ham, hash brown casserole, cinnamon rolls, bacon, and noodle kugel.  We also dranks lots and lots of coffee and more than a little bit of wine on Christmas eve.

I am well aware that these family times are precious and I don't take them for granted.  Who knows if we will all be together next year to celebrate Christmas.  This time next year E and N might be living in Seattle or Salem, VA or Springfield, MO.  Only the Lord knows where we will all be and what we will be doing.

But this year we were blessed to be in Decatur and it was a very, merry Christmas!

Still so much to do

It's officially Christmas Eve.  Blogger post times are based on PST, but here in the Midwest it's 12:01 AM on December 24th, so Christmas Eve is NOW.

I still have much to accomplish before we leave home for the weekend to go to the place I called home for 22 years (and still call home).

I mailed out all of the Christmas cards.  The picture turned out pretty good and I've gotten some nice feedback from a few people.

In spite of the humidity I was able to make three batches of toffee to give as gifts to friends.  I'll still need to make two more batches after Christmas, but life will be a little bit less hectic then, and hopefully less humid.

As far as gifts go, if I haven't bought it by now, you aren't getting it, at least not for Christmas 2011.  G and M were troopers this evening and helped by wrapping a lot of presents.  Without their help I would probably end up trying to wrap presents in the back of the Suburban on the ride to Decatur. 

M's visit to her gastro doctor and G's colonoscopy are behind us (no pun intended) and thankfully both events were uneventful.  M discovered a chip in one of her front teeth so she made a quick trip to the dentist this afternoon.  I was glad that she was confident enough to handle that on her own -- both setting up the appointment and seeing the dentist.  Yay for steps toward maturity and adulthood!

So, I still have a few presents to tissue and put in gift bags and I better get moving.  In the morning I'll need to pack my duffle bag and make myself crazy worrying whether or not I forgot to buy/wrap/pack someone's present.

Merry Christmas!

Thankful Thursday

G's colonoscopy went well today.  The doctor said that everything looked great, not even one polyp.

Lucky G.  I wish that M and I had been that fortunate.  : / 

In spite of my envy, I am very thankful that G's colonoscopy was clear and normal.  Now it will be at least ten years (hopefully) before I'll have to take him to have another scope.  I'm sure he's willing to wait at least that long as well.

Oh what fun

When you read that title, don't you just want to finish it off by singing "it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh"?  Especially at this time of year, that's what pops into my mind.

But that's not what it's really referencing.  No, if you're a Brichacek, this is the Year of the Colonoscopy, and tomorrow it's G's turn to have the kind of "fun" that everyone over the age of 50 just can't wait to have.  Not.

Yes, G is scheduled to report to a surgery center in Lombard at 10:00 for his first (and hopefully last) colonoscopy.  Oh what fun indeed.

Actually he's already experienced the most FUN of the procedure -- the cleansing prep.  Ugh.  I would gladly have a colonoscopy once a year if I could do it without having to drink the noxious liquid.  Amazingly G didn't seem to think the gallon of ick tasted all that bad.  He didn't even complain about the salty viscosity.  I think he must have been prescribed something slightly different than the horrible stuff I had to drink.  G's biggest complaint was that he felt stuffed and that he was freezing cold from drinking the refrigerated liquid.  He actually was able to finish the entire gallon; I could only manage to choke down about 3/4 of the container.  : /

Hopefully tomorrow will be an uneventful day.  I don't anticipate the doctor finding anything out of the ordinary -- actually I don't anticipate the doctor finding anything.  But then I could never have anticipated Meredith's doctor finding a pre-cancerous polyp when she had her colonoscopy six months ago. 

Ultimately there isn't anything we can do except trust God because he is sovereign over all aspects of our lives and He will sustain us in every situation and circumstance.  I'm glad that God is in control!

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Erm, today . . . not so much.  : /

Why do people seem to clash so much at Christmas (or other holidays)?  And when I say "people," I mean M and me.

M is applying for a summer internship in Sydney.  The last thing she needs to do to complete her application is answer an essay question about examples of when she has exhibited maturity, responsibility, and good communication skills, as well as cite an example of how she has dealt with frustration.  M does not like to write.  I am more than happy to read over what she writes and make suggestions or point out grammar and spelling errors, but I will not write something for her, especially not something that is supposed to be a personal description of situations in her life.

Thankfully, M didn't ask me to write her essay, but she was very put out with me that I wasn't willing to be more involved with the idea-gathering process.  I made a few suggestions (that she rejected) and then she seemed put out when I went back to working on addressing Christmas cards.

Apparently M decided to write about apartment living.  She mentioned something about how important communication was now that she was living with three people instead of just one roommate (like her past two years in the dorms). 

I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn't.  Instead I said, "Except you don't have good communication."  I was remembering all of the conversations M and I have had about how she feels her apartment-mates take advantage of the fact that she likes to cook and bake and can't stand a dirty kitchen or an overflowing garbage can.  M has complained over and over about feeling left out and used by these three girls who are supposedly her friends.  When I suggest that she talk with them about what's happening, she refuses.  And when I'm critical of these girls who exclude her and make her cry, she defends them and gets angry with me for saying anything against them.

I don't know what to do and I wish that this issue didn't come up less than a week before Christmas.  : /       

So much to do . . .

and so little time left in which to do it all.

Christmas is less than a week away.  I need to have all the presents bought and wrapped by Friday.

I still have to send Christmas cards, but G doesn't have the photo ready yet.  : /

On a non-holiday note, I have to take M to the gastroenterologist on Wednesday and I also have to spend a good chunk of Thursday with G when he has a colonoscopy.  Why does all of this have to happen a few days before Christmas? 

And if all of the above isn't enough, somewhere in the midst of this craziness busyness, I need to find time to make toffee and cookies to give as gifts to a few select friends.

I really don't think I'm going to be able to get it all done, especially the toffee.  Humidity and rain are the morbid enemies of toffee and it's supposed to rain tomorrow.  Ideal toffee weather is cold and dry.  Whoever thought I would be unhappy because it's not cold enough?

Honored

M and I drove home from West Lafayette yesterday.  On the way, we decided to stop at Albanese's Candy Factory in Hobart.  I had seen their signs on I-65 for several years, but it never seemed like a good time to stop to see the home of the "world's best gummi bears."  Yesterday the stars aligned and we agreed we needed to check this place out.

As M drove east on Route 30, my cell phone rang.  I was surprised to hear my son-in-law's voice on the phone.  N was in Salem, Virginia to interview for an internship.  

Thankful Thursday

Sometimes it's better to be thankful for the little things in life, rather than focusing on the really big, monumental things.

The little things are all around me every day. 

I just need to look for them. 

And take the time to stop and truly be thankful for them.

I suppose that's what's called taking time to stop and smell the roses . . . or the strawberries.  Pulling over to the side of the road to watch the sunset.  Listening patiently to the rambling story of a child (when so much needs to be done in too short of a time) yet being grateful that she graced you with the telling of her tale.

I'm thankful for the little things that bring beauty and joy and laughter to my life.

To the person who found my purple mittens

and kept them:

I hope you love them as much as I did.

I loved those mittens so much that I bought a second pair when the first pair started to look ratty from too many winters of snow shoveling.

I loved the just right shade of purple and the softness of the polar fleece.  I especially loved the darker purple suede on the palm and the thumb that allowed me to keep a firm grip on the steering wheel.

But most of all I loved how warm and toasty my hands and fingers were inside my beloved purple mittens.  On the very coldest days I would slip on a thin pair of gloves and then pull on my mittens -- that was all it took to keep my hands warm in frigid conditions.  My purple mittens could handle whatever Old ManWinter could dish out.

I feel lost without my mittens.  It sounds stupid, but there's an empty feeling inside me that's almost like the feeling I've experienced when someone I love has died.  Yes, this loss has really hit me hard.

I have other mittens and gloves that I can wear, but none of them are as warm or bring me as much joy as the beautiful purple mittens that have been my favorites for over ten years.

I hope my mittens have found a home with someone who will wear them and love them as much as I did, but I really wish that their forever home was with me.     

A matter of perspective

There was a lunar eclipse last night.  I heard about it on the news -- it was supposed to be spectacular and it was supposed to be visible close to dawn.

I didn't have any intention of staying up for the eclipse, let alone going outside in the freezing cold to watch it, but when 4:00 rolled around and I was still up, I figured "what the heck."

I bundled up in my coat and mittens, but I didn't want to bother with socks and shoes, so I put on my soccer slides.  Even though there was still a little bit of snow on the sidewalk, I didn't think it would bother me since my jeans are fairly long.

The sky was totally clear and the stars were incredibly bright in spite of the streetlights and porch lights in the neighborhood.  The moon was huge and full, a beautiful silvery-white against the velvety navy of the sky.  Even though it was around 7 degrees, I felt reasonably warm.

I stared at the moon for awhile.  Unfortunately I didn't see any sign of a change that could be attributed to an eclipse.  When I began to grow cold, I decided that it would be a good idea to go inside and go to bed.  Eclipses are much more fun in warmer weather.

Yet as I lingered for a little while longer, I thought about how I had initially been warm when I first gazed up at the sky but soon the cold penetrated my warm coat and mittens.  What about people who don't have warm winter clothing?  What about men and women, and sometimes even children, who aren't able to return to a house with a working furnace?  G and I keep our furnace set fairly low for economical reasons, but our house is still relatively warm.  Some homeless people take shelter in their car each night or sneak into abandoned buildings.  Others hide behind garbage dumpsters to escape the worst of the wind and snow.

Do those people ever look up at the moon and marvel at the beauty that God placed in the sky?  Or are they too focused on trying to keep warm -- struggling to survive -- to be able to afford the luxury of gazing at the moon and the stars that illuminate the heavens?

For me, the early morning interlude in the frigid air was invigorating as I enjoyed God's handiwork of moon glow and starlight.  Yet I suspect my perspective on the scene would have been different if I wasn't fortunate enough to be able to scurry back to the comfort of a heated home and an electric blanket.

This morning I read in the Tribune that the eclipse was outstanding on the west coast and in parts of Asia.  The moon turned from light orange to bright red as the eclipse coincided with sunrise.  The pictures I've seen are impressive, but I'm sure they can't begin to compare to the experience of seeing it unfold in person.  

My eclipse experience was quite likely different from that of a Chicago observer who spends their life on the street night after night, no matter the weather or season.  And my experience was also very different from someone thousands of miles away from me who watched the brilliantly silver moon  grow both shadowy and colorful as the earth passed between it and the sun.

This eclipse, like so much of life, was a matter of perspective.

Addiction -- like I needed another one

Just in time for Christmas . . . when I should be shopping, wrapping, baking, cleaning, addressing, mailing, preparing, worshiping, sleeping . . . I have a new addiction.

Crush the Castle.

So much fun.  I have conquered all the levels, ie. crushed all of the castles, but I keep playing it anyway.

I need to stop.

Thankful Thursday -- and boy am I thankful!

It's Thursday and I finally feel like I have my life back.  Since Thanksgiving I've been under the gun to get a lot of writing done and it hasn't been easy.  There have been way too many late nights, and not the fun kind of late nights that I'm used to.  But today, at 10:15 a.m. (after writing through the night -- ugh!) I finished my last assignment of 2011!

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!  Yes, I am excited.  Very, very excited.  : ))

And very, very tired.

I want a cookie!

Almost every Sunday evening, E and I talk on the phone.  It's fun for me to hear what she did over the weekend and catch up on all that happened during the past week.

Tonight I wanted to hear about a cookie exchange that E had gone to on Saturday afternoon with some of her friends from church.  The last time I talked to E, she was busily baking the molasses cookies that she planned to take to the exchange.

These particular cookies are definitely delicious.  I made them as a gift for a friend and her brother to nibble on during a long car trip and I think they liked them.  If I didn't have self-control issues, I would make some this week for G and I to have in the evening with hot tea.

But back to my conversation with E.  I asked her what the best cookie was that she ate at the exchange, and she answered without hesitation, "Mine!"

I love her response!  She laughed when she said it, but I think she was dead serious.  I raised her to tell the truth, so I have to trust that she honestly meant that her cookies were the tastiest.  I also love that E is so confident in her baking skills -- of course her cookies were the best!

I wish I had one (or two or twelve) of those cookies right now.  : )

You just never know

I never thought this would happen.

I was watching Say Yes to the Dress tonight, and one of the brides that was featured on the show is someone I know!  Actually the bride is a young woman my oldest daughter has known since grade school.  Freshman year in high school they played on the tennis team together, and the summer before junior year they traveled in Europe with a group lead by some of the foreign language teachers.  

And now that I think of it, I was K's Girl Scout leader for a few years!  It's much more fun to say that I was a Girl Scout leader to a present-day celebrity than have to admit that I was also a Girl Scout leader for not one, but two girls who became unwed mothers while they were still in high school.

It was fun to watch K on the show.  She chose a gorgeous dress and I'm sure she will be a beautiful bride.  Best wishes K!  Here's wishing you and your fiance a lifetime of happiness!

Thankful Thursday

Yesterday evening my small group finished our study of Philippians.  One of the key themes of the epistle is joy.  Paul continually exhorts the church in Philippi to rejoice -- to rejoice in the Lord and to rejoice in all circumstances.

I feel like Paul's message is directed to me, except I'm substituting the word thanks where Paul used joy/rejoice.

A few things have happened lately that have left me feeling less than thankful.  But I know that my choice to give thanks cannot be dependent on circumstances.  In good times or bad, in need or in plenty, God calls me to be thankful.  He doesn't say it's good to be thankful when life is going smoothly, but it's okay to be crabby and dissatisfied when life is a mess.

Scripture says, "Oh give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; for His steadfast love endures forever!" 1 Chronicles 16:34  

I can give thanks at all times, not because my life is great, but because the LORD is good and His unchanging love for me is never-ending.  That reality is definitely worthy of my thanksgiving!

Good-bye November

Last day of the month.  Last day of November.

I'm not ready to say good-bye to fall -- to brilliant autumn leaves, blue skies and sunshine, mild days and crisp nights, bonfires, pumpkins, turkey, brussel sprouts, cranberries . . . .

November had its up and downs.  We ended the month with two health crises.  But the good memories from Thanksgiving still linger.

It was a good month.  Good-bye November.

It's always something

One minute everything is going well.  The next minute it's all gone to h*ll.

Why does that happen?

Last night we got a call that G's stepfather was on his way to the hospital.  He was in extreme pain and was also experiencing intestinal distress.  G met his mom and C at the emergency room and stayed with them until almost 1:00 a.m.  When G finally came home, C was still waiting to move from the ER to a room on the 4th floor. 

Tonight we visited C and he is much improved.  His doctor thinks he knows what the problem is and how best to treat it.  G's mother is much less worried than she was last night (when she was convinced she was going to be widowed for the second time).  It has been an intense twenty-four hours for C, but it seems like he is going to be okay.

It's also been an intense twenty-four hours for our youngest daughter, M.  This morning she called her father and said that she was sick and had been sick since yesterday evening.  She was also experiencing intestinal distress and was very worried that she might be heading toward the same problems that had landed her in the hospital this summer.

Around noon M called me and said that she felt achy all over.  She felt like she was going to throw up but she also still had the same lower intestinal issues.  Needless to say, she hadn't been able to venture far enough away from the bathroom to even consider going to her morning OT observation or either of her power hour classes.

When you're in college, there's never a good time to be sick and miss class, but two weeks before finals is definitely one of the worst times times to be sick.  Tomorrow is an especially crucial day for M to feel well and be at her best since she has an early final (no idea why it's not during finals week) and two labs.    

I hate it that my child is in so much pain and there isn't anything I can do to make her feel better.  I'm a little angry (at God?) that M is sick again.  It breaks my heart to hear the fear in her voice and know that she wonders if she will always be dealing with this problem.

I know there are other families who are dealing with much more serious issues with their children, and I wouldn't want to have to bear the burden they do.  But M is my child, and when she hurts, I hurt.

I hope that tomorrow is a much better day for M.

Thankful Thursday . . . and Friday and Saturday and Sunday

Sing with me!  "Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go."

Well, I didn't go through any woods, but I did go over five rivers -- the Des Plaines, Kankakee, Mazon, Mackinaw, and Money -- on the way to Grandmother's (known to me as Mom and to my kids as Mimi) house.  And Grandpa lives there too.  : )

A Baskin-Robbins day

Today was a Baskin-Robbins day, but it didn't involve ice cream or any other treat from the famous 31 Flavors store.

Instead G and I had vegetable samosas, vegetable pad Thai, spicy shrimp bao, and Chinese BBQ pork buns for dinner.  Well, G didn't have any of the pork buns, but I did, and they were delicious -- just like the ones we have in San Francisco at Yank Sing.  For dessert we had vanilla bean cupcakes.

In case you're wondering -- do they always eat like this? -- the answer is NO.  But today was a special day, a Baskin-Robbins day, because today was our 31st wedding anniversary.

Baskin-Robbins -- 31 Flavors -- 31 years of marriage.  Get it?

November 22, 1980 to November 22, 2011.  That is definitely something to celebrate!

Caught off guard

I went to the laundromat today.  It was a long overdue trip.

After I got the washers going, I walked next door to the dollar store.  I intended to buy a Coke, but I wandered over to the greeting cards instead.  I picked out five Thanksgiving cards, then grabbed a Coke from the very back of the cooler (I always want to have the super-coldest bottle possible) and headed to the checkout.

The guy who was working the register greeted me and started to scan my cards.  I was fishing in my handbag to find my coin purse, not paying attention to anything around me, so it really caught me off guard when the cashier said, "I really like people like you."

What?  People like me -- would that be middle-aged, overweight women with menopause-induced acne?  Surely not.

The guy must have noticed the puzzled look on my face because he held up one of my greeting cards and waved it toward me.  Still puzzled, I thought maybe he was referring to the humorous card that I purchased.  So . . . he likes people who get a laugh out of Thanksgiving?

"It makes it so much easier to ring up the cards when they're turned the right way," he said with a smile.

Ohhh, now I get it.  He was commenting on my habit of flipping the front of the card upside down so the UPC code is facing up, unobstructed by the flap of the envelope.

People like me . . . we rock.  : )    

A confession

Everyone's entitled to their opinion . . . until they share it, and then it's fair game for ridicule and derision.

I have a definite opinion on a current situation and I'm willing to bet that I'm probably the only person in American who feels the way I do.  In fact if my feelings on the subject were known, many, many people would undoubtedly accuse me of being hateful and downright unpatriotic.

Wow.  What opinion could I hold that would draw such strong animosity?

I confess that I am sick and tired of hearing about (being bombarded with, really) every detail of Rep. Gabrielle Gifford's life.  Gabby, as her husband, family, friends, and every news anchor/talk show host in America calls her, has been all over the news lately.  It seems like she is getting almost as much press now as she was 10 months ago when she was gravely wounded by a crazed gunman at a meet and greet with her constituents in Tucson, AZ.

Last night when I was at Barnes & Noble, I realized why there has been such a resurgence in all things Gabby -- she and her astronaut husband, Mark Kelly, have written a book, Gabby: A Story of Courage and Hope.  I find it fascinating and exquisitely timed that Giffords chose to grant her first post-shooting interview (with ABC's Diane Sawyer) to coincide with the release of her book.  Surely that wasn't planned?  Nah, couldn't have been.

Now before you think that I am a truly heartless jerk, I fully admire the determination that Rep. Giffords has shown as she has struggled to regain the ability to walk, talk, and reclaim the daily functions and freedoms of life that I so blithely take for granted.  Her recovery has been nothing short of miraculous, especially since she was very close to death.

What I bristle at is the "it's all about Gabby" attitude that oozes at every turn.  If for some reason you had lived your life in isolation for the past year, and suddenly you emerged to be confronted by the Gabby feeding frenzy, you might conclude, wrongly so, that Giffords was the only one who was shot that morning in January 2011.  Even at the time of the shooting, the other victims -- 6 people were killed and 12 (not counting Giffords) were wounded -- received little press.

Two shooting victims who did receive a bit more than a passing mention were a chief federal judge and a 9-year old girl who was the granddaughter of a former MLB player and manager.  Obviously the child's death, because of her age, was incredibly tragic and grabbed the attention and heartstrings of the public.  The fact that she was related to a sport celebrity also heightened the curiosity factor.  Predictably the media made the most of her story.  As a public servant, the judge also garnered a decent amount of press.  But the remaining victims, whether wounded or dead, were largely ignored.

Today if you were to ask someone if they remembered anything about a victim other than Giffords, few would be able to come up with a name or other details.  It's as if Gabrielle Giffords was the only one who was shot, the only one worth remembering.

It's all about Gabby.

It doesn't seem right to me that everyone else has been pushed aside.  Don't their stories matter?  Couldn't the nation also be inspired by their accounts of triumph over tragedy or encouraged by their determination to regain health and wholeness?

Why does our society value celebrity so much -- to the point that the struggles and afflictions of the common man fail to move us to the same degree (or at all) that we feel when the same misfortune happens to someone famous?  WT* is wrong with us?

I truly am glad that Rep. Giffords is making a strong recovery.  She still has a long way to go, but she is surrounded by an incredible support team and, as a member of Congress, she has access to the very best medical care that taxpayer money can buy.  Hopefully her story will inspire someone else who is struggling to recover from a traumatic injury.

But there are lots and lots of stories out there.  Stories from school teachers and cabdrivers, artists, farmers, and accountants.  Stories worth hearing from people who aren't usually accorded the power, position, and privilege that's reserved for politicians and celebrities.

I've heard enough about, and from, Gabby.  It's time for someone else to have a turn to tell their story.    

Thankful Thursday

Over a month ago, a distant family member was bitten (unknowingly) by a brown recluse spider.  Unfortunately he didn't realize the bite was serious, so he didn't see a doctor until a few days later when he was in excruciating pain and his arm was swollen to more than twice its normal size.  Waiting three days to seek medical attention almost killed him.

Just this week, more than four weeks later, D is finally moving from ICU to a critical care room where he will be able to get intensive physical therapy.  He has lost forty pounds in addition to muscle mass and function.  D's triumphs for this week include actually taking a small assisted walk and eating half of a hamburger!  For someone who has been fed almost exclusively by a feeding tube, suffered unrelenting pain, and only dreamed of being able to walk again, it is a miracle that he has achieved these milestones.

Some people, genuine Christians, believe that miracles are a thing of the past.  They feel that miracles -- the signs and wonders described in the Bible -- were used by God and Jesus to bring people to faith.  While these believers do not dispute that there are many occurrences today that are unexplainable and definitely of God, they stop short of calling them miracles.  Instead they describe them as evidence of the providence of God.*  I'm not 100% sure, but I think their reasoning is that in our present time, faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ. Romans 10:17  We are privileged to have the Bible, God's words to us, a witness more powerful than any sign or miracle.

For me the debate is of a semantic nature.  Whether one calls it a miracle or providence, I think we all can agree that it comes from God.  The steps that D has been able to take, literally and figuratively, can only be attributed to God's healing hand.

I am thankful that God has blessed D with renewed hope and a sense of His presence.  There are many people who are praying for D and God has definitely heard those earnest petitions.  Both D and his wife are sustained by the prayers of so many on their behalf, as well as the minute to minute providence of God as he guides D toward healing and wholeness.

It is almost certain that D will never be the same person that he was before he was bitten.  Among other things, he may never regain full use of his arm and he will likely need to be on insulin for the rest of life.  But in spite of the losses he has suffered, he has also been blessed in ways he could never have imagined.  Through this trial D has gained a greater dependency on, intimacy with, and sense of reverence for his awesome God.  By grace, the Lord has made Himself known to D in ways that would not have been possible if he were still going about his active, pre-incident life.  In this time of affliction, D and his wife have been given the blessing to "be still, and know that I am God." Psalms 46:10 

D's experience is a testimony that out of adversity, the Lord brings blessing.  Thanks be to God! 

*A few years ago I was in a small group where two women almost came to blows over their differing opinions regarding miracles.  By the grace of God, one of the women chose to focus on what she had in common with her sister -- their unity in Christ -- rather than dwelling on the issue on which they differed.  I have great admiration for this women, because her older sister in Christ was definitely not backing down on her opinion.  The younger woman's gracious attitude allowed our group to continue to focus on our study of God's Word, avoiding the evil one's attempt to sow dissension and division among the saints.         

Wednesday Wisdom -- a good reminder

After Bible study this evening I stopped at Target and Meijer to pick up a few items that I wasn't able to get at Valli's and Jewel.  As usual, I bought too much.

When I left Meijer, I noticed the moon.  It was beautiful -- bright white and a little more than half full.  I caught a few more glimpses of it as I drove home.  Safely in my driveway, I got out of the car and glanced up again at the sky.  This time I couldn't see the moon, but what I could see very clearly were hundreds of brightly shining stars.

In spite of the lights from the streets and houses in the neighborhood, the stars stood out distinctly, glittering like brilliant diamonds on a vast expanse of darkest navy velvet.  I was tired and cold, and even though the warmth of my house beckoned, I stood transfixed, head tilted back, gazing at the beauty strewn across the heavens.

Whenever I look at the stars, I can't help but think of a verse from the first chapter of James:

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.    

What a beautiful word picture!  James describes God the Father, the Creator of the Universe and all that inhabits it, as "the Father of the heavenly lights."  And so He is, for on the fourth day He brought them into being and set them in place. 

¹⁴ And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years, ¹⁵ and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. ¹⁶ God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. ¹⁷ God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth, ¹⁸ to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good.  Genesis 1:14-18

The breathtaking stars that I was in awe of this evening are the very same stars that the Lord God placed in the heavens to light the night sky long ago on the fourth day of Creation.  And moreover, each one of these stars is visible proof  of God's good and perfect gifts to the world.  

All of creation testifies to the reality of God's goodness and perfection.  His good, perfectly chosen gifts for man are on display everywhere we look -- and even when we don't look, even when we aren't able to see God's good provision for us, it is always present.  God's goodness toward us never fades or disappears. 

James also tells us that the Father does not change like shifting shadows.  We can completely trust God because He is constant and unchanging and there is no darkness in Him.  Likewise, we can know beyond any doubt that the gifts he gives are always good and perfect because He Himself is good and perfect and accordingly, his gifts to us will flawlessly reflect his character.

I pray that I will never take God's good and perfect gifts for granted or turn aside from them to seek the counterfeit "gifts" of the world that masquerade as good but lead instead to sin and death.  As I look at the night sky may I always be reminded of my good and perfect Father, the Father of the heavenly lights, who has given the most perfect gift of all to those who choose to receive it -- the gift of salvation through Christ Jesus.

Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!  2 Corinthians 9:15    

How do they stay in business?

I went to Jewel tonight.  It used to be my go-to store for just about all our groceries, but now . . . not so much.

When I pulled into the parking lot, there weren't very many cars.  The last few times I've been to Jewel, that has been the case.  In the past, the parking lot would have been fairly full and the store would have been busy.  This evening I was able to park in the second spot from the door and the store wasn't even close to crowded.

I think I might know part of the reason that it seems like business has fallen off at Jewel.  Their prices are so darn high!

As I was strolling up and down the aisles, I couldn't help but notice that almost all of the prices were higher than what I pay at Target, Valli's, and Meijer -- way higher.  I've known for quite some time that Dominick's is overpriced, but it was sad to see that Jewel has gone down that path as well.

The Jewel that's closest to my home is just down the street from a Costco and not all that far from Meijer and a SuperTarget.  I imagine that a lot of shoppers are buying the bulk of their groceries and other supplies at those stores instead of at Jewel.  Sad day.

When I first moved to Chicago, I always shopped at Jewel because it was just like Eisner's, a grocery store chain I grew up with.  I was a newlywed and I really missed my mom and dad and my hometown.  Walking into Jewel, I could almost imagine that I was still in central Illinois and then I didn't feel quite so sad.

Now I shop at Jewel if there's a really good sale or if we need toilet paper.  I really like a brand of toilet paper that they carry and I can't find it anywhere else.  I used to buy paper plates there too, but we've decided that we can live without paper plates. 

G and I have put two kids through college, married off one, and are still working on college for the third kid.  We need to be careful with every penny we spend and that means not paying $3.49 for a half pound of cheese from the deli when I can get a pound of cheese for $3.99 somewhere else.

There will always be a special place in my heart for Jewel, especially for how it was a familiar face that helped me adjust to life in a time of transition.  I wish I could afford to still shop there more often, but a sense of loyalty based on sentimental memories just can't justify the extra cost.

: /               

I'm getting too old for this

OMG Boilermakers. 

Do. Not. Do. This. To. Me.

Even though I watched the game on replay and knew that Purdue won by 2 points -- really, 2 points after they won by more than 30 on Saturday??? -- I was still sweating bullets as the last few minutes of the game played out. 

If this is how the college basketball season is going to continue, I don't think I will make it to March Madness.

: /

Girls' Day Out

Today was Girls' Day Out.  Not all the girls though -- that would have been awesome, but E and M weren't able to join Mimi, K, and me for a day of shopping, a museum, lots of food, and fun hanging out in Chicago.

We missed you E and M!

Thankful Thursday

It snowed today -- NOT thankful for that.

I finally went to the DMV and renewed my driver's license.  G was nice enough to drive me there.

He also drove me to the grocery store yesterday so I could get stuff to make a cold appetizer for Bible study.  Then he drove me to and from Bible study.  It was cold and windy yesterday and I'm sure he would much rather have stayed inside and worked and watched television, but he didn't complain about having to chauffeur me around.  

I hate the DMV.  There has probably only been once (maybe twice) when I've had a good experience on my visits to the Secretary of State facilities.  Today was not one of those good experience days.

The woman who processed my renewal was not very nice.  She was snippy.  I'm  sorry her job requires her to ask the same questions over and over and over, but she knew what she was in for when she signed up and you better believe she is extremely well compensated for her boring, mindless, and so easy a third grader could do it (faster and more competently) job, so I don't have any pity for her.  No pity.  None.

One thing that bugs me about everyone who works at the DMV -- they only have one speed.  And that speed is S . . . L . . . O . . .W.  These people are even slower than Bill and Karolyn Slowsky, the annoying Comcast turtles.

When I walked through the door of the DMV, there were five people working and only two customers.  By the time I finally left, there were only three employees and twelve customers.  I really felt sorry for the people I left behind.  Who knows how long they had to languish there before they finally got their drivers license or the sticker for their license plate.

But the good news is I do have a valid license and I won't need to renew it until 2015.  Yay!

So today I am thankful that it will be quite awhile before I will have to endure the torture of a visit to the DMV. But more importantly, I am thankful that for the more than three months I unknowingly drove around with an expired license I was not involved in an accident or stopped by a police officer or state trooper for any sort of violation.  It wouldn't have been the end of the world to have been ticketed for driving with an expired license, but it wouldn't have been great either.

Next time, when I get my renewal notice in the mail, I'll pay more attention to the renew by date instead of waiting until the last minute (or beyond) to join the ranks of legal drivers in the state of Illinois.      

Lawbreaker

I never thought that word would describe me, but for the past three months, that's what I've been.

A lawbreaker.

Every time I got behind the wheel of my car, I was a lawbreaker.  I didn't need to speed or roll through a stop sign or change lanes without using my turn signal.  Nope, all I had to do to break the law was drive to the mall or the grocery store or Bible study or even just around the block.

And the worst part of it all?  I didn't even know that I was a lawbreaker.  Not that my ignorance would have made any difference if I had been stopped by a police officer, especially since I'm way past the age where a sparkly smile or tears could sway a male in uniform with a ticket book in his hand.

So what's my crime?  What have I blithely been doing for the last three months that could have landed me in jail?

I've been driving around with an expired drivers license!

Today I was looking for a check that I should have cashed last week (I found it) and I came across a notice from the Illinois Secretary of State informing me that my license would expire on July 29, 2011.  Jesse White wanted me to know that I could renew my license by mail or in person at any conveniently located DMV office.

Thanks Jesse.  Too bad I didn't rush right out and renew my license when I received your friendly reminder.

Tomorrow my husband will drive me to the DMV in Wheaton -- I don't want to risk driving myself -- so I can finally be legal again.  I hope there's not a penalty fee for late renewal.

: / 

Cranky

I have been cranky lately (sounds better than saying pissy).  I'm not sure what my problem is, but every little thing, not to mention all sorts of big things, sets me off.

I really don't know how G puts up with me, especially since everything he does bothers me.  Even when he makes an attempt to be nice, it ticks me off.  If I were him, I would tell me to get lost (actually I would tell me something else lots less polite, but he's fairly polite, so he would probably say "get lost.").

And that's another thing . . . language.  Mine has been out of control.  When I was at Target tonight I should have bought a pretty roll of pink duct tape for my mouth because that's the only way I'll be able to keep from spewing out an almost constant stream of profanity.   

I don't want to be a cranky b*tch, but I don't know how to get out of the funk I've been in.  It is way past time for an attitude adjustment.  : /

Thankful Thursday

Tomorrow G and I are picking up K and heading for Indianapolis.  Later in the day, E, N, and M will meet us at the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner.  Then hopefully we will all get a good night's sleep in our room at the downtown Embassy Suites, so we will wake up rested and ready to go to the . . .

Indianapolis Monumental Marathon!

E is going to run the marathon (her second time) and G and K are running the 5k just for fun.  If we had planned ahead, M could have run with them, but she's a faster runner so she probably would have left them in the dust.  : /  Nate and I will be happy to find a Starbucks and chill until G and K are done, and then we'll all pile in the Suburban and head out to find E somewhere along the course, hopefully around the halfway point.

I am thankful that our family has this pre-Thanksgiving opportunity to be together.  Usually I see K at least several times each month and I just saw E a month ago in Decatur, but it's been almost three months since I've seen M.  The last time we were together, it was the week before fall semester started at Purdue -- that was a long time ago and a lot has happened since then.

It will be good for us to be together again, even if it's only for a brief time.  : ) 

Bring back the Pony Express

On Friday I mailed a padded envelope to my daughter in West Lafayette.  Enclosed were two pieces of mail that had arrived for her at our address, four Walmart gift cards to use toward groceries, and a Halloween card I made for her.

Today she thanked me for the card and other items.  I assumed that maybe she had forgotten to thank me for everything when we talked on the phone Monday or Tuesday. 

No.  She had just received the the package in the mail today.

West Lafayette is approximately 175 miles from our house in the western suburbs of Chicago.  I can drive there in just under three hours.  If I had to, I feel fairly confident that I could walk from our home to M's apartment in less time than the five full days it took the USPS to deliver one small piece of mail.

Sadly, M told me that she had made and mailed a Halloween card to me and her father last Tuesday.  We never received it.  : /  

Funny, the USPS seems to have no problems delivering my junk mail and bills.  

: //

November

I love November!  It's one of my favorite months, in spite of the fact that it is the month when the weather really gathers steam on the inevitable downhill slide to the horrible ice, snow, and cold of winter.  : /

Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays, is in November.

My middle child was born in November -- in an ambulance on the way to the hospital no less!

My husband and I were married in November.

I hope to truly live in the present this month, to savor its sweet moments and celebrations.  December will be here soon enough.  For now, I intend to enjoy November.

72 days

So much for "till death do us part."

Kim Kardashian filed for divorce today from her husband of 72 days, Kris Humphries.

All those people who said it wouldn't last were right.  And anyone who bought an "Our 1st Christmas Together" ornament as a holiday gift for the happy couple is probably frantically searching for their receipt and planning a quick trip to the mall.

In her official statement to E! News (the same network that filmed and broadcast her lavish --rumored to have cost $10 million -- wedding) Kim said,"After careful consideration, I have decided to end my marriage. I hope everyone understands this was not an easy decision. I had hoped this marriage was forever, but sometimes things don’t work out as planned. We remain friends and wish each other the best."

Seventy-two days doesn't seem like an adequate amount of time to have given her decision "careful consideration" or to have genuinely tried to make her marriage work.  Did she even think about seeing a  marriage counselor?

For his part, Kris told People, "I love my wife and am devastated to learn she filed for divorce… I’m committed to this marriage and everything this covenant represents, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work."

These two statements definitely sound like they were made by people who weren't reading the same book, let alone on the same page.

Kim says "I have decided to end my marriage."  There's no mention of Kris in that declaration; it's all about Kim.

Kris says he's "devastated to learn she [Kim] filed for divorce."  It doesn't sound like it's a decision they reached together.  In fact it sounds like Kris was blindsided by Kim's move.  Kris was probably also caught off guard by the fact that Kim attended a Halloween party in New York City on Sunday with another guy.  So while Kris might be "willing to do whatever it takes to make it work," Kim has clearly moved on.

My cynical side thinks that all of this was planned -- some sort of weird, unfathomable publicity stunt.  Although why anyone would want to participate in a scheme that makes them look like a cross between a heartless b*tch and a clueless fool, I have no idea.

If all of this is for real, I truly feel sorry for Kris Humphries.  He seemed like a fairly decent guy, though from the start it appeared that he let Kim wear the pants in their relationship.  Kris may be "devastated" but it's a pretty safe bet that it won't be long before he realizes that 72 might just be his lucky number.

Sorrow and Hope

Just like everyone else, I have good days and bad days.  Sometimes I even have bad weeks.

This has been a bad week.  A very bad week.

I had the house to myself for four full days and I wasn't able to accomplish much beside cleaning both toilets and doing the dishes a few hours before my husband came home from his business trip.  Most nights I stayed up till four in the morning and then struggled to get out of bed before noon.  I did complete my Bible lesson and even managed to go to to the study on Wednesday night.  But most of the week I was enveloped in a cloud of depression and sorrow.

On Tuesday I read about an HC freshman who died Monday evening.  He was walking along the railroad tracks that border the eastern edge of campus when he was struck by a freight train.

I am very familiar with those train tracks.  I warned E many times to be careful crossing the tracks when she walked or rode her bike to N's cottage or the indoor tennis complex.  In my overly protective mother's mind, it seemed irresponsible to have railroad tracks so close to a college campus filled with barely adult students who were often reckless because they still thought they were invincible, impervious to danger or death.

I don't know the details of this student's death beyond what's been reported in the newspapers.  It was almost nine o'clock at night, so it would have been dark.  The engineer saw the student and tried to stop the train in time, but he couldn't.  Because it's a residential area, the trains move fairly slowly.  It's hard to believe that the student didn't hear the train, the horn, or the bell on one of the crossing gates.  Even with his back to the train I can't imagine he couldn't see the headlight as the train approached.  The engineer said the student was walking, and then he stopped.

Why did he stop?  Why was he there in the first place?  This boy's dorm was three to four blocks west of the tracks.  The closest campus buildings to where he was struck are the Art Center and the Fieldhouse.  It seems unlikely that he had a night class at either of those venues and yet, if he did, there should have been other students walking in the same area, heading back to their dorms and cottages when class let out.  But the only eye witness to the accident that I'm aware of was the railroad engineer.

I hope I'm wrong, but it seems possible that this student chose to end his life.  If that's the case, I can't imagine what was going on that made death preferable to life.  Everything I read in the papers indicated that this kid was a good student, a great friend and teammate, a leader, a person with the determination to be successful at whatever he set his mind to accomplish, and an individual who was comfortable enough with who he was that he didn't feel pressured to fit a mold that his peers or society might prescribe for him.

This boy was eighteen.  He had been at HC for just two months.  Today his family buried him.

I have walked along side a child who has expressed the desire to end her life.  I look back on those times and fear still grips my heart because I can't be sure that she has left that darkness behind.  I wonder if the next disappointment will trigger those destructive feelings again and I feel helpless to help her navigate the landmines that litter her life.

Did this boy's family have any inkling that something might be wrong?  Or was his death truly just a horrible accident?  I doubt I'll ever know.

Dear Lord, you know this young man.  You knit him together in his mother's womb and entrusted him to his family for, in our perception, a too brief eighteen years.  I pray that he is now at peace in your presence.  Father hold his family close as they grieve.  May your heavenly angels, as well as the saints here on earth, surround this family with compassion and love.  I pray especially for his roommate, friends, and cousin at HC.  Help them to reach out to campus ministries and HC counseling staff.  May your Spirit, which filled the chapel to overflowing on Tuesday morning, continue to rest in every heart and mind on campus as HC mourns the death of their student and friend.    

Thankful Thursday -- Popcorn Edition

No, I'm not thankful for popcorn, although I do really, really like love caramel corn from Garrett's in Chicago and Del's Popcorn Shop in my hometown.

I first heard the word popcorn applied to something other than the snack food when my oldest child was in junior high.  Her small group leader at church encouraged the girls to participate in the group prayer time with "popcorn prayers" -- short one sentence prayers.

I thought this was a great idea for a number of reasons: more time for more prayer and praise, increased opportunity for more people to pray, less pressure to pray according to a specific formula or with the "right" vocabulary, excellent introduction to out-loud, group prayer for kids who came from faith backgrounds where only the pastor or an adult prayed aloud. 

So today I'm going to do a Thankful Thursday based on the KM's popcorn approach to prayer.

I am thankful that/for:

G is home safely from his business trip.
It hasn't snowed yet.
Our furnace is working well.
As the Monumental Marathon approaches, E's knee is feeling good.
K hasn't had a migraine headache for a long time.
M seems content and reasonably healthy.
I had a nice walk and conversation with my friend K on Sunday.
N is making good progress with his internship applications.
Halloween is just one day, but Thanksgiving is a lifelong attitude.

: )

I am so weak

I gave in this evening and got carry-out from smashburger.

It was late, almost 9:00 and I hoped that "Anthony" wouldn't be working . . . but he was.  Fortunately this time it wasn't awkward at all.  He came out of the kitchen area and said "hi" and I said "hi" and he went back in the kitchen and that was the end of it.

What a relief.

However, the lady working the cash register sort of gave me the third degree, almost accusing me, saying, "you've been here before, haven't you?  I'm sure I remember you."  Well yes, I've been here before.  Isn't that a good thing when a restaurant (or any business) has repeat customers?

Anyway, I ordered a small burger on a pretzel bun with blue cheese and haystack onions.  I had a coupon code for a free side, so I decided to try the fried pickles with buttermilk dipping sauce.  The burger was good; it probably would have been better if I had chosen some sort of sauce, maybe the smash sauce, because it was a little dry without mustard or some other condiment.  The fried pickles were way too salty -- I won't order them again.

I doubt if I'll go back to smashburger on my own.  Maybe G will want to check it out (they have a made-from-scratch veggie burger that's supposed to be very good) or I might get lunch there with a friend. 

As much as I enjoy the food, I need to cut back on discretionary spending and high calorie splurges.  Smashburger will have to be an occasional treat from here on out.

How wrong is it . . .

that when my husband told me he would be home from his business trip on Thursday, I asked him if he was sure he wouldn't like to stay for another day?

I could have sworn he told me he couldn't get a flight out on Thursday afternoon or evening, so he was going to catch an early flight Friday morning.  Come to find out, he's done with work Wednesday afternoon, but has to wait until Thursday morning to fly home.

I was really counting on having that last day alone in the house . . . and our bed. 

: /

Rethinking an addiction

I ate at smashburger three times last week.  One time all I got was a milk shake, but the other two times I had a cheeseburger and fries.

After my visit Friday night, I might not go back.  : /

The food is great.  I could easily eat there at least once a week.  It's a little pricey, but that's not really the problem.

Every time I've been there, the same guy has been working at the pick-up window, expediting the dining room orders and handling the carry-outs.  He seems nice and he's very friendly.  Too friendly.

I don't know his name, but he seems like an Anthony, so that's what I'm going to call him.  On my first visit, Anthony was appropriately friendly.

On my second visit, the following day, he remembered me from the first visit.  Most people would think that was a positive response that could encourage repeat customers.  However, I was slightly creeped out.

When I went back on Friday, I was dismayed to once again see Anthony working the pick-up window.  The restaurant was sort of busy, so I hoped I could sneak under the radar and he wouldn't notice me.  But since I was placing a to-go order, that was unlikely.

Sure enough, Anthony handed me my white paper bag.  He called me by name (you have to give your name for carry-out orders) and remarked that it was good to see me again.

I should have just smiled and walked away with my order, but I didn't.  Why did my mother raise me to be polite and speak when spoken to?  I said something about smashburger being my new addiction and Anthony said that it wasn't such a bad addiction to have. 

Again, when will I learn to keep my mouth shut?  I replied, "Yeah, except for . . . " and I patted my amply padded hip.  Anthony smiled and said, "Oh I don't think you need to worry about that."         

Finally my brain and good sense kicked in and I did what I should have done in the first place -- smiled and walked out of the restaurant.

In no way do I think that Anthony was flirting with me.  He probably was just being polite.  I am over 50, overweight, and past the point in my life where people might view me as an attractive woman.  For heavens sake, my own husband doesn't have any interest in me, so why would any other man look at me and see anything besides a woman whose better years are long behind her?

It's hard to describe the undercurrent of uneasiness I felt after the Friday night encounter.  I described what happened to a friend and she didn't seem to get the same red flag feeling that I did.  If I do go back to smashburger, I think I'll go with a group of friends or I'll ask my husband to come with me. 

Or maybe it would just be better to not go back.  I have too many addictions as it is.

Thankful Thursday

We bit the bullet today.

We had waited as long as we could, but we just couldn't wait any longer.  If I had my way, I would have waited a few more weeks, but with G leaving for Las Vegas on Sunday, it needed to be done sooner rather than later.

So what am I talking about?  What could possibly cause so much angst?

We turned on our furnace today.

For me, turning on the furnace is an act of giving in, a reluctant acknowledgment of the reality that summer is over and the warmer days of fall are quickly fading.  While I will persist in wearing flip flops and capris well past an acceptable point, that's a decision I make for myself.  The temperature of our house is something that affects me and my husband and on which I feel we should agree.

The past few days G has been cold, even after he put on a sweatshirt and long pants.  I've been cold too, but I was willing to suffer a little bit in order to delay the inevitable.

Although I am sad that today was the first day of the winter heating season (and the accompanying horrendous heating bills) I am very thankful that our furnace came on without any problems. 

Our furnace is only eight years old, but they don't make furnaces like they used to, so the life expectancy of a furnace now is somewhere in the 10-15 year range.  The previous furnace was original to our home -- we figure it had to be over 33 years old when it finally breathed its last blast of lukewarm air.  I would like to think that our current furnace will still be going strong when we finally leave this house for our retirement spot, but there are no guarantees.

Thankfully, our furnace started today and has run well all day.  I pray that it will continue to warm our house safely, consistently, and trouble-free all winter (and early spring) long.    

An "Alexander" day

Today was an "Alexander" day.  You know what I'm talking about -- the kind of day depicted in the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. 

I had a killer headache.  It wouldn't go away.  It was so bad I decided I couldn't go to Bible study this evening.

Since I was staying home, I decided I would make a broccoli and cheese omelet with a tiny little bit of leftover broccoli.  Except when I looked in the fridge, I discovered my husband had just tossed that minute amount of broccoli into a stir fry for his dinner.

Because I was in pain from my daylong headache and because I am a b*tch, I complained that he used the last of the broccoli.  In G's defense (and because he doesn't talk to me during the day) he didn't realize I felt like crap, so he thought I was going to Bible study and would get something to eat there.  He made some snarky remark and I snapped back and then he snapped back and, when he finished eating his stir fry, he stormed out of the house to buy more broccoli at the grocery store, even though I told him he shouldn't go because I had no intention of eating any broccoli that he bought.

Yes, I truly am that big of a b*tch.

So for my Plan B dinner, I decided to toast sliced almonds and steam some cauliflower.  I started the almonds and cut up the cauliflower, rinsed it and put it in the really nice steamer pan I bought years ago at Marshall Field's.  I kept an eye on the almonds so they wouldn't burn and hoped I'd timed it so they would be perfectly toasted shortly before the cauliflower was done.

When I checked the cauliflower, I wasn't pleased to discover that it hadn't cooked . . . at all.  So I turned up the heat, hoping to hurry it along.  A few minutes later, a little doubt crept into my mind.  Had I filled the bottom of the steamer pan with water?

I obviously had put the cauliflower into the steamer basket, but I didn't remember filling the pan itself with water.  I went to the stove, lifted up the basket portion and was horrified to see a bone dry and slightly discolored pan.  It was at this point that I also noticed an acrid smell.

Great.  Who knew how hot this pan was.  It was probably too hot to attempt to cool it down with tap water.  I cautiously let a tiny drop of water drip out of the faucet and into the pan.  The droplet briefly sputtered, sizzled and ricocheted in a crazy dance around the bottom of the pan before it evaporated in a puff of steam.

Yep, that pan was d*mn hot.  I had a tea kettle of warm water on the stove and I hoped if I poured that in the pan, it might help to gradually cool the super hot stainless steel.  To play it safe, I set the pan down on a braided rug in front of the sink before I poured in the water.              

Warm water, cold water -- it didn't make much difference.  When the water from the tea kettle hit the bottom of the pan, there was a huge cloud of steam and lots of scary hissing.  I picked up the pan, carefully swirled the water around in a vain attempt to cool off the sides of the pan, then dumped the water into the sink.

As I turned the pan upside down, I was shocked at what I saw.  There was a weird black circular pattern on the bottom of the pan.  It almost looked like the rings of an electric burner . . . except I don't have an electric stove and the burner grates for my gas stove aren't circular.  So where did the black cr*p come from that was all over my pan?

It was then that I noticed the round burn/scorch mark on my braided rug -- a round mark that corresponded exactly to the diameter of the bottom of the pan.  As I looked at the rug more closely, I saw that, in addition to burning and blackening the rug, the heat of the pan had melted some of the outer fibers completely, exposing the white, padded coils beneath the green and gold fabric.

As I contemplated the ruined rug, I searched for a safe place to set the still hot pan, and in so doing, knocked the steamer basket full of cauliflower to the floor.

Great.  Ruined rug, ruined pan, ruined dinner.
    
During this entire debacle G was watching television in the next room.  Not once did he ask if everything was okay or if I needed help.  It's possible he didn't hear anything, but it's more likely that he decided it was better to leave me alone.

When G emptied the kitchen garbage can before he went to bed, I'm pretty sure he couldn't have helped but seen the burn marks on the rug, but he never said a word.   Guess we're sweeping the whole episode under the (burned) rug.

I can only hope that "Alexander" doesn't make an appearance tomorrow.

Danger is everywhere

I seem to remember a movie called "Mother May I Sleep with Danger?"  I'm sort of hazy about the plot, but judging from the title, danger was involved.

I don't intend to ever sleep with danger, but I'm pretty sure I ate lunch with it today -- and I didn't even think to ask my mom for permission first.

I planned to go to Wendy's for lunch because I had a coupon for a free hamburger with the purchase of fries and a drink.  It's been a long time since I've eaten at Wendy's and I figured it was a good chance to check out the new and improved Hot 'n Juicy cheeseburger for free (almost).

As I waited at the stoplight across from Wendy's, I noticed a banner to my right that announced the grand opening of smashburger.

Oh. My. Goodness.  I have been waiting very impatiently for smashburger to open at this location.

So let's see -- eat at Wendy's (for mere pennies) or try the new kid on the block and spend way more?  Safe and affordable lost out to the allure of something new, dare I say, something dangerous.

My smashburger was amazing.  I ordered the BBQ, Bacon & Cheddar.  It comes on a buttered and toasted egg bun with crispy onion strings.  I also ordered fries and a coke.  Unfortunately I didn't pay close enough attention to the helpful, but clearly nervous girl who took my order and I ended up with regular French fries instead of the smashfries I really wanted -- fries tossed with olive oil, rosemary, and garlic.

Oh well, I guess that little slip up is just an excuse a good reason to return.  Would tomorrow for lunch be too soon?   

Dangerously good

Weight Watchers uses the term "red light foods" to refer to foods that are problematic for overweight people, especially dieters.  If you know what your red light foods are then you should treat them exactly the same as you would react to a red traffic light -- STOP.  In the same way that running a red light is asking to be involved in a car accident, taking a bite of a red light food can often lead to a disastrous eating binge.  If you don't stop before you take that first bite, you may very well find that you can't stop until all of the bites are gone.  : /  

I have a very long list of red light foods . . . which I routinely ignore.  Today I added another food to the list and you better believe that when it comes to this treat, I will totally ignore the list and the accompanying huge red light.

Trader Joe's Dark 70% Cacao Chocolate Bar with Caramel with Black Sea Salt.*

Oh. My. Goodness.  This is one dangerously good chocolate bar.

From the deliciously bittersweet dark chocolate to the silky smooth caramel filling to the perfect contrast of grains of Hawaiian black sea salt, this is definitely a red light food.

Fortunately, Trader Joe's is a little bit of a drive from my house so I don't shop there very often.  All of the traffic lights -- red, yellow, and green -- between my home and Trader Joe's may be the only thing that saves me from disaster.

*Even though the name of the chocolate bar sounds awkward because of the double use of "with," that is exactly how the bar is identified on the back of the packaging.  I would have substituted "and" for the second "with" but I won't let that syntactical clumsiness keep my from consuming far too many of these amazing indulgences.  : )

The right moment and the "write" moment

I wish I had come up with that phrase, the "write" moment, but I didn't.  I saw it in a post by a blogger who doesn't post very often.  This is what she had to say:

"Usually, I ruminate and ruminate until I’m sure I have the perfect artsdevivre* moment to share. I wait until I feel fresh and ready to write the perfect post. As you can see, this does not produce, er, frequent, writing.

Point being, I am always thinking about artsdevivre, trying to find the beauty, not get upset over the little (sometimes big) things. So I need to share them more often. Because if I wait for the “write” moment (pun intended) to write, it’s not going to happen."

I can so identify with this.  As a frustrated perfectionist, I struggle with wanting something (anything, everything) to be perfect.  I'll come up with an idea for a blog post -- I can clearly see it in my mind, but then I hold back on following through and actually writing it.  I know (or I fear) that I won't be able to execute the post in the exact way I want, the way I've perfectly envisioned it in my imagination, so I never make the effort.

What holds me back?  I think it is mostly fear of failure -- the fear that someone else will read my attempt and will be able to discern that the reality fell far short of the beauty of the original thought.

If I only neglected to seize the "write" moment, it wouldn't be so terrible, but I also hesitate to act when it's the right moment.  I don't know how many birthday and sympathy cards I've purchased but never followed through on mailing.  The same for phone calls and other acts of kindness.  I know what to do, but I just don't do it.  : //

I wish I could overcome the mindset that everything has to be perfect.  Nothing is perfect.  Undoubtedly there are famous authors who, as they re-read their published works, wish that they had phrased a sentence differently or been more (or less ) descriptive in setting a scene.  Perhaps even Michelangelo glanced up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and lamented that he hadn't achieved the exact shading he had hoped for in the Creation of Adam.

I need to get over myself and act on my good ideas and impulses.  It's time to stop requiring perfection for the "write" and right moments in my life.

*I am terrible at the hyperlink thing.  If you're interested in reading artsdevivre's blog, you can find her at artsdevivre.wordpress.com  

Thankful Thursday

My husband had his annual checkup today.  Unlike me, G is good about going to the doctor and trying to be as healthy as possible.

The doctor told G that his blood pressure is just a little high, but it's not anything to worry about at this point.  Tomorrow he has to go to the lab to have blood drawn for additional testing -- cholesterol, triglycerides, anemia, PSA, and probably some other things I don't know about.  I totally anticipate that all of his test results will come back within the normal/acceptable range.

I am fully aware that even though G seems extremely healthy today, there's no guarantee for tomorrow or the next day or next year.  But for today, for this moment, G is healthy, and for that blessing, I am very thankful.

Running for two

Yesterday my husband ran in his 11th Chicago Marathon and his 14th marathon overall.  While that's a great accomplishment, there are some people who have already run fourteen marathons this year alone.  So G, if you think you're hot . . . you're not -- move to the back of the line.

Moses Mosop of Kenya was the Chicago Marathon men's winner.  With a time of 2:05:27, Mosop set a new course record.  He claimed he was only able to run at 85% of his optimal fitness because of an injury that set him back in his training schedule.  Had he been at full strength, he speculated that he could have run 2:02!  Mosop's win was definitely impressive, but he wasn't the most impressive competitor of the day.  So Moses Mosop, move to the back of the line.

For the first time in Chicago Marathon history, a runner won for the third year in a row.  No runner, male or female, had ever achieved a three-peat until Liliya Shobukhova of Russia won the women's division on Sunday.  Shobukhova's 2:18:20 finish was almost two minutes faster than her personal best and it was four minutes faster than the second place female finisher and all but twelve of the male competitors.  Only one woman, Paula Radcliffe, has run a faster marathon (three marathons actually) than Shobukhova.  Since she won the 2010 Chicago Marathon, Shobukhova has earned $1,335,000 in prize money and bonuses.  For the 2011 win she earned $100,00 for her first place finish and a $40,000 bonus for running faster than 2:20.  All of this adds up to a bunch of truly impressive achievements, but there was still one runner at the marathon who accomplished something that Shobukhova, not to mention my husband and Moses Mosop, could ever hope to duplicate.  So move to the end of the line Liliya -- let me know if you need any help carrying your winnings.  : )

One amazing woman finished long after Shobukhova, Mosop, and most of the rest of the runners.  This woman was competing in her 8th marathon.  Her personal best was 3:25, but on Sunday, she finished the race in 6:25.50.  Some people would consider it a failure to add three hours to a PR, but for Amber Miller, running, and walking, the race course from start to finish on October 9, 2011 was a greater accomplishment than anything most of the other runners could imagine.

What made Amber's marathon experience so amazing and unique?  She was running for two!

Amber was pregnant -- 39 weeks pregnant, days from delivery -- when she competed in and completed the marathon.  She had run two other marathons while pregnant (one early in her first pregnancy and the second in May of this year when she was 17 weeks pregnant).  Her doctor cleared her to compete as long as she ran half and walked half of the 26.2 miles.  Additionally, her husband ran with her to keep an eye on her.  It seemed like Amber and her husband had prepared for everything, but they didn't anticipate what happened three-fourths of the way into the race.  Amber began to have contractions.

Apparently Amber had previously experienced a few contractions in her training runs, but the contractions always stopped.  This time the contractions didn't stop and by the time she crossed the finish line, her contractions were approximately five minutes apart.  Most women head to the hospital at that point, but Amber had just run a marathon and she was hungry.  So she had a sandwich!  And then she and her husband made their way to the hospital (the same hospital in the western suburbs where I delivered my three children -- except for the one that was born in the ambulance on the way to the hospital!).

At 10:29 p.m., fifteen hours after the start of the marathon and seven hours after Amber crossed the finish line, baby June Audra, all 7 pounds 13 ounces of her, made her entrance into the world.

After the marathon lots of runners probably headed home to take a shower and put their feet up.  Amber went to the hospital and essentially entered into another marathon, the physical endeavor that is known as labor and delivery.  In the many interviews that she gave today, Amber admitted that, compared to labor, running a marathon is easy.  I imagine that many women would happily run a marathon and many women would gladly endure the painful exertion of labor, but I doubt that anyone would willingly agree to do both on the same day!

In my opinion, Amber Miller is the undisputed champion of the Chicago Marathon.  Not only did she finish the race and receive her shiny mylar wrap and finisher's medal, but she was also able to claim a "prize" that will be precious to her long after the other trinkets have been thrown out or stowed away in a drawer.

Congratulations Amber -- maybe one day you and June Audra will cross the finish line together again!

Marathon Day and a marathon day

Today was the Chicago Marathon -- the day that my husband looks forward to all year long.

In order to be ready to  leave our house by 5:00 a.m., I had to get up at 3:00 a.m.  I am not a morning person.  I'm a night owl, but it wasn't feasible to stay up all night, so I managed to get about four hours of "sleep" before the alarm went off.  Amazingly we did leave on time and we also made it downtown relatively quickly.  When we pulled into the Grant Park Underground parking facility before 6:00 a.m., my husband was very happy.

Normally I would hang out in the car for awhile after G left to go to the starting area, but today I decided to go ahead and head over to the coffee shop, Intelligentsia, where I always get my pre-race mocha.  I thought I remembered that the shop opened at 6:00 a.m. on Sundays, so I figured I could get my coffee, relax for half an hour or so and still have time to make one last pit stop before I headed over to State Street to meet up with E, N, and K.

I was really disappointed when I got to Intelligentsia and discovered that they had changed their hours.  : /   There was a woman working at the coffee bar and the lights were on, so I opened the door and started to go in only for the woman to tell me that they weren't open yet.  Okay, so why was the door unlocked?  Now I had 40 minutes to kill before I could get my coffee.  I was not happy.

I walked around for a little bit and found the two pastry shops that I wanted to go to later on in the morning.  Finally, when it was almost 7:00, I headed back to Intelligentsia.  By now there was a cluster of about ten people gathered around the front door.  Great.  This coffee shop is known for it's precision (some would say fanaticism) about coffee -- nothing happens quickly at Intelligentsia.  Even without a line of customers, it can take five minutes or more to get your order.  I needed to be in front of the Channel 7 studio at 7:20 but I wasn't sure I would even have my mocha by then.

Fortunately the counter staff seemed to be working a little faster than usual.  I placed my order, paid, and then dashed to the washroom.  When I emerged, I still had to hang out at the coffee bar a few minutes until my mocha was ready.  I waited until I was outside of the shop to take a drink . . . and I experienced immediate and intense disappointment.

Normally the espresso drinks at Intelligentsia are super hot.  I really like hot coffee, so where I would order a mocha at Starbucks and ask the barista to make it extra hot, at Intelligentsia, I have never had to ask for that modification.  In fact Intelligentsia's mocha is almost too hot.  But today . . . the drink was only moderately warm.  It felt like the milk had been steamed and then allowed to sit until it cooled to a tepid temperature.  Blech.  Additionally the espresso was incredibly weak and the chocolate was practically nonexistent.  I paid $4.50 and waited over half an hour for this?  I will not return to Intelligentsia any time soon.

A proper perspective

I enjoyed an evening out tonight.  While my husband stayed home and carbo-loaded in preparation for the Chicago Marathon tomorrow, I went to dinner at my small group leader's home.  Actually I should say my small group leader's mansion.

Honestly.  This woman lives in a mansion.  Her house is a huge three story brick mansion with three story white pillars on either side of the front door.  The property (must be at least an acre) also includes an in-ground swimming pool and horse stables.  I've been to this house before and I know from that visit that the third story is primarily a fully-finished attic playroom.  I haven't seen the basement, but I suspect it is also totally finished and decorated as exquisitely as the rest of the house.  Maybe there's even a bowling alley down there!

I have to admit that in spite of the splendor of this woman's home -- and it is definitely splendid -- the woman herself is refreshingly down-to-earth.  I learned tonight that her parents were German immigrants and I didn't get the impression that she enjoyed the über-privileged upbringing that she and her husband have been able to provide for their own children.

Even though this woman is surrounded by incredible luxury, I suspect she would gladly give it up if it meant she could have more time with her mother who died unexpectedly just a few months ago.  I also think that she would surrender her beautiful possessions if the Lord asked her to part with them in order to advance the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

My small group leader has her priorities in order.  She knows what's truly important and what's just pretty fluff.  I need to remind myself of that whenever I'm tempted to compare myself to someone who drives a nicer car or lives in a bigger, newer house.

Jim Elliott said it best -- "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

That's the perspective, the eternal perspective, I need to embrace every day.    

Dreams die hard

Have you ever wanted something really badly?  So badly that at times the object of your desire was all you could think about?  So badly that even though it physically hurt to think about what you wanted but couldn't have, you thought about it anyway?

I've been in that awful, horrible, painful place for more than two years.

I desperately want something that I will never have.  Never in a million years.  As much as I long for my wish to become a reality, I know with certainty that if the unthinkable were to occur, it would irreparably change every aspect of my life.  Honestly, damage is a more accurate word than change, and destroy might be more precise than damage.

And yet, knowing what I do, I still think and dream about what I want, what I think will make me happy.

How stupid is that?

Thankful Thursday

My parents are amazing.  Whenever I've needed help, they've been there for me.  From baby-sitting (they live three hours away) to a loan (small, big, and in between) to prayer support, I know that I can count on my mom and dad to do whatever they can to help.

This past weekend they welcomed me and a carload of stuff -- the entire cargo hold of a full-size Chevy Suburban -- to their home and cheerfully helped me set up for a rummage sale.  (We called it a Grandma's Attic sale.) 

My dad loaded sawhorses, huge pieces of plywood, and old doors into his pickup and set them up to display the sale items.  My mom helped decide how much to charge, priced everything, arranged it all on the "tables" in the freezing predawn hours, made signs and then drove around the neighborhood nailing them to telephone poles.  Mom also kept everyone warm and fed with coffee, hot dogs, and chocolate cake.

When the sale was over, my parents helped me pack up the stuff that didn't sell and hauled the saw horses, plywood, and doors back to the storage space.  Sometime during the afternoon, when she wasn't chatting with customers and manning the cash box, my mom found time to fix beef stew for dinner. 

The sale was actually a lot of fun.  But it was a lot of work too.  My parents could easily have said that they didn't want to have their weekend disrupted by a rummage sale with a bunch of people milling around their backyard and driveway, but they knew I needed to get rid of this stuff and they also knew I needed to try to make as much money as possible.  Because they are great parents and because they love me, they gladly agreed to help.  Amazingly, my dad is even talking about having another sale in the spring!

I am thankful that my parents are ready and willing to help with whatever I need.  I can only hope that I can be as helpful to my children as my parents have been to me.