This portion of a verse in the Bible has been playing over and over in my mind for more than a week now. You see, a friend and church-mate was operated on not quite two weeks ago. She'd had a non-cancerous brain tumor which could have had devastating results, but didn't. There is nothing that can make you rejoice in your heart more than seeing God answer your prayers. Robin woke from her surgery, waving her hand around, and rejoicing in God's goodness to her. Knowing that surgery was a success for her caused me to rejoice with her!
To see her attend church 6 days after surgery filled me, as well as our church family, with thanksgiving! We so often pray for things to happen, and we expect God to work. He never disappoints us, but often does things differently from what we might have asked. You see, He knows ALL things....we have only tunnel vision. He knows what's best.... we see only what we want. In this case, we got what we prayed for, and as we see Robin recuperating quickly, we are filled with joy and gratitude!
Last night we took a meal to the family, to make things a little easier on them all. Her husband is at home for a bit of time while she heals, and he's capable of cooking. But, why not help where we can? We shared a nice visit with them all before leaving them to have their dinner, which was a bit delayed by our visit. We left the home with renewed joy in the fact that other than one foot that doesn't want to respond to the brain's command, Robin is good as new! I have every hope that, in time, the foot will stop being stubborn, and do what it is meant to do.
In the meantime, we lift our prayers in thanks for all that has taken place in this matter. We rejoice with those who rejoice.... and we continue to ask for complete healing in the future. Thank you, Lord!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
There's Thrifty and Then There's.....
my husband.
My husband is of Scotch-Irish descent. Now, I don't know if it's true of all Scots, but this character always says, "I'm too Scotch" whenever he thinks a price is too high, and he will do his utmost not to waste a thing ...other than time and storage space. He saves all the mayonnaise jars, assorted other jars of various sizes, coffee cans with lids, plastic coffee cans with lids, and any other container that he can get away with. Well...you get the picture. When I get tired of tripping over garbage bags full of them in the garage, I strongly suggest, at the risk of starting a war the likes of which would make WWII look like a playground scuffle, that he might take some of them to the dump on his next trip. Then I suggest that it might be a good idea to make that trip soon.
Now, please understand that I am of the ilk to save some things...but not everything. I was reared by parents born in Depression times, and I was taught not to waste. I'm fairly good at it, but even I couldn't believe my eyes today. Picture this. My beloved marched into the sunroom where I was happily listening to music by Selah while I worked on making some Christmas cards. In one hand he held a pair of his work boots. In the other hand he held a mismatched pair of sneakers. He asked me to applaud. I asked why. He told me that these were making their way to the garbage. WHAT?!! Did my ears deceive me?!! My husband is throwing away not one pair, but TWO pairs of shoes?! I asked if the mates to the mismatched sneakers had already made their way to the refuse bin, and he told me that they hadn't. They still had wear left in them, soles in tact (unlike the flapping ones on the pair that was on the way out.) His intention was to wear them in the yard....one white one with black trim, New Balance brand, the other white with what used to be Navy trim, by the brand of Fila. Pardon me... I must correct myself. Neither is white anymore...but one is rustier white than the other from the red clay, and I must say that neither shoe is in very much better shape than the sad things he threw away.
When I picked up my jaw from the floor and composed myself after a rib-splitting fit of laughter, I calmly told him that this little experience would make a terrific blog subject...and asked his permission to share this story, just in case he might find some embarressment in wearing an odd pair of shoes. He leaned back in the wing chair and asked me, "No...I don't mind. Why would I mind?" I said, "Well, I just thought you might not want me to share this with the world." His response was, "Go ahead. I'm never gonna meet any of them."
C'mon. It's not like we can't afford another pair of sneakers. It's not like he'd wear them, either, if I bought him a brand new pair. He'd wait 'til all 'the wear' has left these, and then he'd move the new ones into the 'good wear' group and demote another old pair to the yardwork set. It's a losing battle. I took my wedding vows very seriously, and truth be known, I wouldn't want to be without this goofy guy...quirks and all.
Sometimes I wonder if his age is catching up with him, but then I remember how he's been 'Scotch' since before I met him, and also quite good at making me laugh. Just as long as he doesn't take off to work at the preacher's house or the church wearing those gardening mis-mates, I guess I won't have him committed....yet. However, I can't vouch for the neighbors when they see him in those things!
My husband is of Scotch-Irish descent. Now, I don't know if it's true of all Scots, but this character always says, "I'm too Scotch" whenever he thinks a price is too high, and he will do his utmost not to waste a thing ...other than time and storage space. He saves all the mayonnaise jars, assorted other jars of various sizes, coffee cans with lids, plastic coffee cans with lids, and any other container that he can get away with. Well...you get the picture. When I get tired of tripping over garbage bags full of them in the garage, I strongly suggest, at the risk of starting a war the likes of which would make WWII look like a playground scuffle, that he might take some of them to the dump on his next trip. Then I suggest that it might be a good idea to make that trip soon.
Now, please understand that I am of the ilk to save some things...but not everything. I was reared by parents born in Depression times, and I was taught not to waste. I'm fairly good at it, but even I couldn't believe my eyes today. Picture this. My beloved marched into the sunroom where I was happily listening to music by Selah while I worked on making some Christmas cards. In one hand he held a pair of his work boots. In the other hand he held a mismatched pair of sneakers. He asked me to applaud. I asked why. He told me that these were making their way to the garbage. WHAT?!! Did my ears deceive me?!! My husband is throwing away not one pair, but TWO pairs of shoes?! I asked if the mates to the mismatched sneakers had already made their way to the refuse bin, and he told me that they hadn't. They still had wear left in them, soles in tact (unlike the flapping ones on the pair that was on the way out.) His intention was to wear them in the yard....one white one with black trim, New Balance brand, the other white with what used to be Navy trim, by the brand of Fila. Pardon me... I must correct myself. Neither is white anymore...but one is rustier white than the other from the red clay, and I must say that neither shoe is in very much better shape than the sad things he threw away.
When I picked up my jaw from the floor and composed myself after a rib-splitting fit of laughter, I calmly told him that this little experience would make a terrific blog subject...and asked his permission to share this story, just in case he might find some embarressment in wearing an odd pair of shoes. He leaned back in the wing chair and asked me, "No...I don't mind. Why would I mind?" I said, "Well, I just thought you might not want me to share this with the world." His response was, "Go ahead. I'm never gonna meet any of them."
C'mon. It's not like we can't afford another pair of sneakers. It's not like he'd wear them, either, if I bought him a brand new pair. He'd wait 'til all 'the wear' has left these, and then he'd move the new ones into the 'good wear' group and demote another old pair to the yardwork set. It's a losing battle. I took my wedding vows very seriously, and truth be known, I wouldn't want to be without this goofy guy...quirks and all.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Local History...
East Hampton, New York is situated on the eastern end of Long Island, surrounded by ocean and bay beaches. It is steeped with American history...since it's beginning in the mid-1600's. The architecture speaks of the Englishmen who settled there, first around what is now known as Town Pond.
In those days, there were animals who were kept nearby, who watered at the pond. It is an idyllic and serene area...or would have been in that day. (Today the traffic there is busy, as it is the entrances to the Main Street and the commercial area.)
I have heard and read, though I don't know if it is factual, that punishments in those days might be a good dunking in the pond on the dunking stool. Such a device was constructed of a long pole with a seat on the end, which was lowered into the water by strong men on the other end of the pole, which was supported in the center-area by a horizontal cross pole. I'm sure the whole procedure was embarrassing to those on the water end of the stick. Probably the entire town came out to witness the carrying out of the sentence.
The use of stocks, too, was a method of punishment. Offenders would be placed in a sort of wooden yoke, attached between two posts. The head would go into a center half circle, and the hands would be stuck into the openings beside the head, and then another board with the other half circle would come down over the neck and wrists, and be locked, so that the criminal would be standing, trapped, for all to see....or perhaps to be pelted with rocks, dirt, vegetables or eggs. If that wasn't enough, the stocks were built in such a way that when one was in them, the body was bent at the waist. It would not be so comfortable for the back or legs, I would imagine!
There are tales of shipwrecks and Captain Kidd's treasure off the shores of East Hampton. There are stories which took place during the Revolutionary War and of colorful characters who lived in East Hampton since it's settlement. There are accounts of famous people, artists and actors, and others, who took up residence in the lovely little seaside community. So much history to learn of, to read of, to know that is a part of my own heritage.
But, I know so little. It is a shame, I think, that the school does not teach a local history class for all the students who live in the area. Some wouldn't be interested, any more than they are interested in learning about things that happened in foreign countries throughout time, and yet they are forced to learn World History. I think it would be a terrific service to the children of East Hampton, especially those whose families go back to the beginning, as mine did, to offer them the chance to know the area that their ancestors played a part settling. For those students whose families are newer to the area, wouldn't it be nice for them to learn, too, all that has gone before them?
Maybe I'll write a letter to the school board and suggest the formation of such a class, and then ask if I might sit in on it!
In those days, there were animals who were kept nearby, who watered at the pond. It is an idyllic and serene area...or would have been in that day. (Today the traffic there is busy, as it is the entrances to the Main Street and the commercial area.)
I have heard and read, though I don't know if it is factual, that punishments in those days might be a good dunking in the pond on the dunking stool. Such a device was constructed of a long pole with a seat on the end, which was lowered into the water by strong men on the other end of the pole, which was supported in the center-area by a horizontal cross pole. I'm sure the whole procedure was embarrassing to those on the water end of the stick. Probably the entire town came out to witness the carrying out of the sentence.
The use of stocks, too, was a method of punishment. Offenders would be placed in a sort of wooden yoke, attached between two posts. The head would go into a center half circle, and the hands would be stuck into the openings beside the head, and then another board with the other half circle would come down over the neck and wrists, and be locked, so that the criminal would be standing, trapped, for all to see....or perhaps to be pelted with rocks, dirt, vegetables or eggs. If that wasn't enough, the stocks were built in such a way that when one was in them, the body was bent at the waist. It would not be so comfortable for the back or legs, I would imagine!
There are tales of shipwrecks and Captain Kidd's treasure off the shores of East Hampton. There are stories which took place during the Revolutionary War and of colorful characters who lived in East Hampton since it's settlement. There are accounts of famous people, artists and actors, and others, who took up residence in the lovely little seaside community. So much history to learn of, to read of, to know that is a part of my own heritage.
But, I know so little. It is a shame, I think, that the school does not teach a local history class for all the students who live in the area. Some wouldn't be interested, any more than they are interested in learning about things that happened in foreign countries throughout time, and yet they are forced to learn World History. I think it would be a terrific service to the children of East Hampton, especially those whose families go back to the beginning, as mine did, to offer them the chance to know the area that their ancestors played a part settling. For those students whose families are newer to the area, wouldn't it be nice for them to learn, too, all that has gone before them?
Maybe I'll write a letter to the school board and suggest the formation of such a class, and then ask if I might sit in on it!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Mexican Food
Yesterday morning, I took Mom to an appointment. As is sometimes the case, she treated me to lunch, following her 'date'. We chose "Fiesta" this time. It was a perfect choice for me since I hadn't been there in a good while, and Mike isn't really excited about the place. He never gets what he thinks he's ordered, so he's often disappointed.
I'm never disappointed in Fiesta's food. It's abundant, it's tasty, and it is not at all pricey. I always end up taking half of it, or more, home in a styrofoam box. Yesterday I ordered the 'lunch fajita' for $6.99 and took enough home that I ate it for dinner, as well, and was sufficiently fed at both times. The dinner fajita is a larger version of the same things...a choice between chicken or beef strips, mixed with peppers, onions and spices,three small tortillas, refried beans, shredded lettuce and tomatoes, quacamole and sour cream. Add a little salsa from the dip bowl they bring with corn tortilla chips when you first sit down, and you can say you've been well-fed!
I've always liked tacos, tortillas with anything (meat or cheese or vegetables or any combo of the afore-mentioned), chili. I don't like things too spicey, but do prefer just enough 'bite' to know that you've got something different from the norm. We make these types of meals at home, but somehow, it's not the same as the taste you get at Fiesta or other places like it.
I will keep trying, though! Do you have a favorite Mexican food? Or maybe you don't like it at all? If you don't, let me know....I'll eat your share!
I'm never disappointed in Fiesta's food. It's abundant, it's tasty, and it is not at all pricey. I always end up taking half of it, or more, home in a styrofoam box. Yesterday I ordered the 'lunch fajita' for $6.99 and took enough home that I ate it for dinner, as well, and was sufficiently fed at both times. The dinner fajita is a larger version of the same things...a choice between chicken or beef strips, mixed with peppers, onions and spices,three small tortillas, refried beans, shredded lettuce and tomatoes, quacamole and sour cream. Add a little salsa from the dip bowl they bring with corn tortilla chips when you first sit down, and you can say you've been well-fed!
I've always liked tacos, tortillas with anything (meat or cheese or vegetables or any combo of the afore-mentioned), chili. I don't like things too spicey, but do prefer just enough 'bite' to know that you've got something different from the norm. We make these types of meals at home, but somehow, it's not the same as the taste you get at Fiesta or other places like it.
I will keep trying, though! Do you have a favorite Mexican food? Or maybe you don't like it at all? If you don't, let me know....I'll eat your share!
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Thinking Back...
We've done some camping in our day...both inside and outside. My earliest recollection of camping with Dad, Mom and my brothers, we were up around Lake Placid, NY. Dad had built a camp fire and he and Mom were going to cook supper for us kids. I watched as Dad rubbed a bar of soap all over the outside of the kettle that we used to use for picking blackberries in the summer. When I asked why he was doing that, he explained that it would make the pot easier to clean the soot from when we washed it. It's a tip that I've never forgotten, and have used many times in our camping....even when we've cooked over the fireplace flames.
Another bit of advice has stuck with me. Dad once read in the Yankee magazine that you can keep creosote from building up on the walls of your fireplace or woodstove chimney by burning your potato peelings in the fire. I don't have any idea if that's truth or falsehood, but I used to do it when we burned our fireplace, and I never had a chimney fire, and very few chimney cleanings.
It's funny, with all the little things you hear in your lifetime, what things stick with you. I could probably come up with a big dump truck-load of things that Dad or Mom have told me that would be far more valuable to my living than those little bits. But...that's what I'm thinking about today! I'd love to hear if you've got any helpful tips like that, that you've never forgotten. Just curious...
Another bit of advice has stuck with me. Dad once read in the Yankee magazine that you can keep creosote from building up on the walls of your fireplace or woodstove chimney by burning your potato peelings in the fire. I don't have any idea if that's truth or falsehood, but I used to do it when we burned our fireplace, and I never had a chimney fire, and very few chimney cleanings.
It's funny, with all the little things you hear in your lifetime, what things stick with you. I could probably come up with a big dump truck-load of things that Dad or Mom have told me that would be far more valuable to my living than those little bits. But...that's what I'm thinking about today! I'd love to hear if you've got any helpful tips like that, that you've never forgotten. Just curious...
Thursday, October 20, 2011
It's Cold!
This morning, when I woke up, I heard the heat pump kick on. I wonder how many times it did that during the night? I got up, went to the living room, where the thermostat was set on 63, and the temperature in the room was the same. I noticed that the french door was open from the kitchen to the sun porch, a space that is unheated. So, I shut the door, and lowered the thermostat to 60 deg. I knew that when the sun rose, it would be slightly warmer in the house. I dressed in my sweats, with a hoodie and warm socks. I haven't gotten warm enough yet.
So I yielded to my urge to hike up the thermostat by one degree....just a few minutes ago. The room is now 62 degrees. It might as well be below zero, it doesn't feel much warmer to me than that, after all those days when we hovered eighty degrees. Then BOOM! A cold front blew through here, and dropped things by twenty degrees. I feel like it's winter!
I don't need to drag out the woolies, but with such a difference in daytime temps, it does feel uncomfortable. So, I'll put on more clothing...or heavier.... and just try to get used to it. If I have to turn on the heat, I will, but it's really not what I want to do. It's too soon, and with the rising rates on the power bills, I would like to delay that move as long as I can. On the other hand, I don't want to look like I'm having a seizure as I shiver, either.
I wish we had a REAL fireplace...where we could burn wood. We just might have to consider that option...pretty soon. The electric stove takes the chill off, and gives the idea that there's a warm flame burning in it, but because it's electric, it's not a saver at all.
We'll manage to get through another cold season, but I don't want it to start too early...or last very long. Meanwhile, I guess I'll just have to take it day by day, and worry about tomorrow when it gets here.
So I yielded to my urge to hike up the thermostat by one degree....just a few minutes ago. The room is now 62 degrees. It might as well be below zero, it doesn't feel much warmer to me than that, after all those days when we hovered eighty degrees. Then BOOM! A cold front blew through here, and dropped things by twenty degrees. I feel like it's winter!
I don't need to drag out the woolies, but with such a difference in daytime temps, it does feel uncomfortable. So, I'll put on more clothing...or heavier.... and just try to get used to it. If I have to turn on the heat, I will, but it's really not what I want to do. It's too soon, and with the rising rates on the power bills, I would like to delay that move as long as I can. On the other hand, I don't want to look like I'm having a seizure as I shiver, either.
I wish we had a REAL fireplace...where we could burn wood. We just might have to consider that option...pretty soon. The electric stove takes the chill off, and gives the idea that there's a warm flame burning in it, but because it's electric, it's not a saver at all.
We'll manage to get through another cold season, but I don't want it to start too early...or last very long. Meanwhile, I guess I'll just have to take it day by day, and worry about tomorrow when it gets here.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
New Computer Stuff...
Just before as I was about to sit down to dinner last night, the phone rang. Generally at that time, it is someone calling to sell us something, get our vote, or offer us a lower rate on the mortgage we don't even have one of. So, if the phone is handy, I check to see, and if it is, I don't answer it. Since the phone wasn't near, I didn't bother to see who was calling. I'd check it, and would call them back, if it was someone I cared to speak with.
Within a few minutes, Mom was ringing our doorbell. I asked why she was wandering over in the rain, and frustrated, she answered, "Well....you didn't answer your phone, so I came over here." She was in a tizzy because her computer wouldn't work, and she was about to give up. Taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, I mustered all the patience I could, and told Mike I'd be right back. Then I went across the street to see what was wrong with the computer.
I listened as Mom vented. I gave her a pep talk, telling her that she just needs to learn the updated programs. I said, "you told me you could learn this if you practiced, so you have to keep practicing! Don't give up...." all the while feeling that I was right about my original thoughts that this expensive new machine was going to frustrate her to the limit. But even knowing that before she bought it, and warning her that it would be a challenge, how could I possibly take away her desire to have something to do, or discourage her determination? I couldn't, and so, against my better judgement....and with a great deal of 'knowing' that I'd be on call whenever she turns on the computer, I said very little.
The problem last night was multi-faceted. She couldn't get the computer to do 'anything!' The instructions typed into the keyboard were met with no reaction. I quickly discovered why. The keyboard was locked. On top of that, the cap lock key was on, so the password wouldn't be accepted.
After we freed all that, I had to, once again, walk Mom through the process of getting to her AOL mail. That's kind of a toughie for her to remember, as it's so different from the older version she'd been using, which was so simple.
Adding to Mom's computer problems is my brother, who is somewhat of a curmudgeon. A few months ago, when she could manuever her old machine, she set up an email account for him. He gets very little email, but because of a recent reunion with some Navy buddies, he does get a few forwards, and a lot of Spam. He is at Mom's daily to read it. He hasn't a clue even how to turn on the computer, let alone get around it. He stands over Mom while she tries to find her way, and when she can't remember, he's impatiently telling her to push this and do that, which only further frustrates them both. Arrrrrg! He should get his OWN...but then I'd have to give him a class....and truthfully, I haven't got the patience for that and it ain't-a gonna happen!
So....I begin this day, not knowing what'll come. I will not borrow trouble....for each day has enough surprises. I'm here for Mom...and will be....but also hope that she'll manage to learn this stuff as soon as she can, so that her frustration will be diminished.
Have a wonderful day, everyone! May yours be problem-free and relaxing.
Within a few minutes, Mom was ringing our doorbell. I asked why she was wandering over in the rain, and frustrated, she answered, "Well....you didn't answer your phone, so I came over here." She was in a tizzy because her computer wouldn't work, and she was about to give up. Taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, I mustered all the patience I could, and told Mike I'd be right back. Then I went across the street to see what was wrong with the computer.
I listened as Mom vented. I gave her a pep talk, telling her that she just needs to learn the updated programs. I said, "you told me you could learn this if you practiced, so you have to keep practicing! Don't give up...." all the while feeling that I was right about my original thoughts that this expensive new machine was going to frustrate her to the limit. But even knowing that before she bought it, and warning her that it would be a challenge, how could I possibly take away her desire to have something to do, or discourage her determination? I couldn't, and so, against my better judgement....and with a great deal of 'knowing' that I'd be on call whenever she turns on the computer, I said very little.
The problem last night was multi-faceted. She couldn't get the computer to do 'anything!' The instructions typed into the keyboard were met with no reaction. I quickly discovered why. The keyboard was locked. On top of that, the cap lock key was on, so the password wouldn't be accepted.
After we freed all that, I had to, once again, walk Mom through the process of getting to her AOL mail. That's kind of a toughie for her to remember, as it's so different from the older version she'd been using, which was so simple.
Adding to Mom's computer problems is my brother, who is somewhat of a curmudgeon. A few months ago, when she could manuever her old machine, she set up an email account for him. He gets very little email, but because of a recent reunion with some Navy buddies, he does get a few forwards, and a lot of Spam. He is at Mom's daily to read it. He hasn't a clue even how to turn on the computer, let alone get around it. He stands over Mom while she tries to find her way, and when she can't remember, he's impatiently telling her to push this and do that, which only further frustrates them both. Arrrrrg! He should get his OWN...but then I'd have to give him a class....and truthfully, I haven't got the patience for that and it ain't-a gonna happen!
So....I begin this day, not knowing what'll come. I will not borrow trouble....for each day has enough surprises. I'm here for Mom...and will be....but also hope that she'll manage to learn this stuff as soon as she can, so that her frustration will be diminished.
Have a wonderful day, everyone! May yours be problem-free and relaxing.
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