Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, dear Jennifer,
Happy birthday to you!
Curious George and I hope you have a good birthday. As you hear so often, "your card is in the mail!"
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
It's a mystery to me!
Yesterday, I got to spend a nice, quiet day at home. That doesn't happen very often, folks, despite the fact that I'm retired. The only thing on my agenda was a trip to the grocery store, since we had run out of bananas and were almost out of pop. (The bananas I could do without, but pop--that's a different matter.)
I finally got around to the place where I was ready to go to the store. When I looked in my purse for my keys, they were not there. I took everything out of the purse--every blessed thing. No keys. Nowhere, no how, no keys. My little suede pouch was missing, too, but I wasn't concerned about it. I only use it to hold nail clippers, and I had seen them on the couch. I went out and looked in the car, to see if by chance I had left them there. Nope. There was the slightest possibility that we might have driven to church with them in the trunk--nope, they weren't there either. Phooey.
I waited for David to get home from work to ask him if he had any idea where they were--like maybe he had pocketed them in the car, or he had seen them in some unusual location. Nope. We tore up Jack in the living room, even to the point of tilting back the hide-a-bed to see if they were there. Nope. I told him perhaps they were with the prescription I had filled on Wednesday, since I wasn't sure where it was, either. We located the prescription, out in the kitchen, but no keys. No keys on any flat surface, anywhere in the house. After walking around like beheaded chickens, I finally said, "Let's go to Orient Express and eat supper. I'm too flustered to try to cook." So we did. And no, we didn't find the keys there, either. (Of course I wasn't looking for them there.)
This morning I went out into the kitchen after David had left for work to fix my breakfast. I saw my purse sitting on the table, where I had left it. For some reason (now, I'm not sure what it was), I looked in the purse and saw the little suede pouch that I keep my nail clippers, mirror, and lip balm in. That was weird, since it had been missing the day before. When I picked it up, there were my keys. I was astounded. I had very carefully looked in that purse the day before, and neither the keys nor the pouch had been there. I figured David had located them before he left for work, and stuck them in my purse as a surprise.
With that in mind, I went to exercise class, to K-mart, to the podiatrist, and to the grocery store. Then I took home the small roast and au gratin potatoes I had gotten for David as a reward for finding the keys. I waited for him to come home.
When he got home, I asked him where he had found my keys. Here's the mystery, folks--he didn't find them. He figured they had been in the purse all along. I know they hadn't. Where they came from, I have no idea. I wish they could talk, so they could tell me where they went on their "explore". I guess I'll never know.
I hope all your mysteries have as pleasant outcomes, even if they leave you, like me, wondering what the heck happened! Love to all, and God bless.
I finally got around to the place where I was ready to go to the store. When I looked in my purse for my keys, they were not there. I took everything out of the purse--every blessed thing. No keys. Nowhere, no how, no keys. My little suede pouch was missing, too, but I wasn't concerned about it. I only use it to hold nail clippers, and I had seen them on the couch. I went out and looked in the car, to see if by chance I had left them there. Nope. There was the slightest possibility that we might have driven to church with them in the trunk--nope, they weren't there either. Phooey.
I waited for David to get home from work to ask him if he had any idea where they were--like maybe he had pocketed them in the car, or he had seen them in some unusual location. Nope. We tore up Jack in the living room, even to the point of tilting back the hide-a-bed to see if they were there. Nope. I told him perhaps they were with the prescription I had filled on Wednesday, since I wasn't sure where it was, either. We located the prescription, out in the kitchen, but no keys. No keys on any flat surface, anywhere in the house. After walking around like beheaded chickens, I finally said, "Let's go to Orient Express and eat supper. I'm too flustered to try to cook." So we did. And no, we didn't find the keys there, either. (Of course I wasn't looking for them there.)
This morning I went out into the kitchen after David had left for work to fix my breakfast. I saw my purse sitting on the table, where I had left it. For some reason (now, I'm not sure what it was), I looked in the purse and saw the little suede pouch that I keep my nail clippers, mirror, and lip balm in. That was weird, since it had been missing the day before. When I picked it up, there were my keys. I was astounded. I had very carefully looked in that purse the day before, and neither the keys nor the pouch had been there. I figured David had located them before he left for work, and stuck them in my purse as a surprise.
With that in mind, I went to exercise class, to K-mart, to the podiatrist, and to the grocery store. Then I took home the small roast and au gratin potatoes I had gotten for David as a reward for finding the keys. I waited for him to come home.
When he got home, I asked him where he had found my keys. Here's the mystery, folks--he didn't find them. He figured they had been in the purse all along. I know they hadn't. Where they came from, I have no idea. I wish they could talk, so they could tell me where they went on their "explore". I guess I'll never know.
I hope all your mysteries have as pleasant outcomes, even if they leave you, like me, wondering what the heck happened! Love to all, and God bless.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Rahab the Harlot
This is one of my favorite characters, probably because I like the feeling of saying something like that in church. Rahab the Harlot. Well, actually, this is not a photograph of Rahab, but of Miss Kitty (the actress Amanda Blake). I don't think it EVER occurred to me as a child that Miss Kitty was, in fact, a harlot! There was a reason she lived over the saloon, there was a reason she dressed the way she did, there was a reason the cowboys kept going upstairs, there was a reason there were a number of fancy bedrooms upstairs...
This is a busy couple of days for me in my retired day-to-day existence. I went to a hospital auxiliary meeting this morning, got there early to chat and trouble-shoot with the bizarre committee and stayed late to help a volunteer who was working the front desk by herself. Now, other than cooking supper and washing choir robes, I'm finished with today's stuff.
Tomorrow, I have to give the Bible study at WMU on poor Rahab. For those of you who aren't familiar with her, she was (according to some Bible manuscripts) an innkeeper in the ill-fated town of Jericho. She hid some Israeli spies from the Jericho militia who intended to put them to death. In reward for her hiding them and subsequently helping them to escape from the walled city by letting them down over the wall with a rope, she and her family escaped the carnage following the fall of Jericho. I'm not sure what my focus is supposed to be on the Bible study, but I've always admired the fact that God was able to use someone like Rahab to do His work. Her job was not honorable--we would consider her a major sinner--yet she was important to God's plans for His creation.
There are more appointments tomorrow afternoon--Retired Teachers' Association meeting, flu shot (and possible chest x-ray), and the Tuesday night English class. I predict tomorrow's supper will be nothing fancy, maybe even something at a restaurant.
Take care, folks, remember that God can use you no matter what your occupation or background is, love to all, and God bless.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Bittersweet
Without a doubt, this is my favorite part of fall. When I was little, my dad sometimes had to travel from one small town to another on banking business. Often on his way home, he would make a point of driving through the country and searching for bittersweet, this lovely orange berry you see in the picture. We had a brown pottery vase that had belonged to his mother, and he would put the bittersweet in that vase. Now that Dad has been gone over twelve years, it is memories like these that kept him here with me. On top of my refrigerator is that brown vase, containing bittersweet that David and I bought several years ago somewhere in Illinois. I have not been able to find it locally, and boy, do I miss it. Almost as much as I miss Daddy!
Love to all, and God bless.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Happy Birthday to You!
Well, if your name is Everett, an especially happy birthday to you! We tried to call you while ago, but you weren't home. Daddy and I decided that was a good thing. Daddy's off to bed pretty soon, so I guess we'll just wait and call tomorrow. Your card may get there tomorrow, too--at least I mailed it on your birthday!
My firstborn, or as Lois Lauranne says, "My starter child", is 36 years old today! This is hard to believe. I know he's been out on his own almost as long as he lived at home--maybe longer--with a few summers during college back at the house. His room is no longer his room--it's the computer room. Still, the stickers all over the door say "A boy once lived here." Actually, they say things like, "The Guard belongs", Wildcats, Hardee's is Smurf turf!, Support Sheriffs' Succession, 4-H Member...
There used to be even more reminders of this being his room, such as the posters all over the place, the official tack from Governor's Scholars...Now I have to look pretty hard to find anything (other than the stickers on the door) to find any evidence of his time here. Until I go to the basement, and see the trophies, books, toy soldiers, other wonderful evidence scattered around, even the special shirt that says something about having to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince charming! I guess somewhere a princess is wasting her time kissing frogs, because she hasn't found our boy yet!
It probably isn't very adult to call a 36-year-old man a boy, but that's the way we mamas are. We just refuse to accept the fact they've grown up. I guess I'm still waiting for him to ride his bike home from one of his "explores". Bubba, I love you. You're still my little boy.
Good night to all, and God bless. (And if you know Bubba, give him a holler.)
My firstborn, or as Lois Lauranne says, "My starter child", is 36 years old today! This is hard to believe. I know he's been out on his own almost as long as he lived at home--maybe longer--with a few summers during college back at the house. His room is no longer his room--it's the computer room. Still, the stickers all over the door say "A boy once lived here." Actually, they say things like, "The Guard belongs", Wildcats, Hardee's is Smurf turf!, Support Sheriffs' Succession, 4-H Member...
There used to be even more reminders of this being his room, such as the posters all over the place, the official tack from Governor's Scholars...Now I have to look pretty hard to find anything (other than the stickers on the door) to find any evidence of his time here. Until I go to the basement, and see the trophies, books, toy soldiers, other wonderful evidence scattered around, even the special shirt that says something about having to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince charming! I guess somewhere a princess is wasting her time kissing frogs, because she hasn't found our boy yet!
It probably isn't very adult to call a 36-year-old man a boy, but that's the way we mamas are. We just refuse to accept the fact they've grown up. I guess I'm still waiting for him to ride his bike home from one of his "explores". Bubba, I love you. You're still my little boy.
Good night to all, and God bless. (And if you know Bubba, give him a holler.)
Monday, October 06, 2008
How do I waste my time? Let me count the ways...
1. I spend entirely too much time every day back in this room on this machine. That is my number one time waster. Half the time I spend checking emails, opening each and every one (well, on one account anyway), skimming it to see if I've already read that story, deleting, going to the next one...Not a lot of meat in very many of my emails. Just a forwarded story or Happy Sister's Day or some such thing--How often does that National Girlfriends' Week come around, anyway?
2. The second big time waster is playing games on this thing. I have found a very simple form of mah jongg on the AARP website, something ridiculous like Mah Jongg toy box, I believe, is the name. The game has the audacity to list the record high score (which isn't mine) of 15948. I have NO IDEA how anyone could score anything like that! My own high scores rank up in the 8000's. But I keep trying, not because it's that much fun, but because I can do it, and it's addictive. Enough said.
3. When I'm not playing that idiot toy box game, I'm playing either mine sweeper or spider solitaire on here. Not particularly brilliant, is it?
4. When I'm not doing that, I'm in the living room on my end of the couch, with the tube turned on (something with a plot, please, nothing educational or hard to follow), and all my paper junk spread around me. That usually consists of today's (and sometimes yesterday's) newspapers, the day's junk mail (which usually includes some sort of interesting catalog), one or two more important papers (such as the bank statement or a bill), half a dozen magazines, a couple of library books, at least two Bibles (the read-the-Bible-through-in-a-year version and the larger-type NIV version I got for Christmas last year), and a couple of puzzle books (sudoku and secret-word wordsearch). Somewhere in that mess is my knitting du jour, which right now is circular dishcloths. I'll knit a while, watch a little TV, do a puzzle, look through a catalog or magazine, start my Bible reading, go back to the knitting...not always in the same order--I'm not OCD, for Pete's sake!
And that's how I spend my days at home. When I'm out of the house, it's a different matter! I guess I ought to go back to work.
Love to all, and God bless.
2. The second big time waster is playing games on this thing. I have found a very simple form of mah jongg on the AARP website, something ridiculous like Mah Jongg toy box, I believe, is the name. The game has the audacity to list the record high score (which isn't mine) of 15948. I have NO IDEA how anyone could score anything like that! My own high scores rank up in the 8000's. But I keep trying, not because it's that much fun, but because I can do it, and it's addictive. Enough said.
3. When I'm not playing that idiot toy box game, I'm playing either mine sweeper or spider solitaire on here. Not particularly brilliant, is it?
4. When I'm not doing that, I'm in the living room on my end of the couch, with the tube turned on (something with a plot, please, nothing educational or hard to follow), and all my paper junk spread around me. That usually consists of today's (and sometimes yesterday's) newspapers, the day's junk mail (which usually includes some sort of interesting catalog), one or two more important papers (such as the bank statement or a bill), half a dozen magazines, a couple of library books, at least two Bibles (the read-the-Bible-through-in-a-year version and the larger-type NIV version I got for Christmas last year), and a couple of puzzle books (sudoku and secret-word wordsearch). Somewhere in that mess is my knitting du jour, which right now is circular dishcloths. I'll knit a while, watch a little TV, do a puzzle, look through a catalog or magazine, start my Bible reading, go back to the knitting...not always in the same order--I'm not OCD, for Pete's sake!
And that's how I spend my days at home. When I'm out of the house, it's a different matter! I guess I ought to go back to work.
Love to all, and God bless.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)