Friday, November 30, 2007

Everything is Sew Crazy busy

Things have been crazy busy around here.

No. I'm serious, I mean staying up until 3 am/back up at dawn and back at work again crazy busy.

As in we've got a work party tonight at the church/a parade float to pull off tomorrow morning/out-of-town company coming for a big family party tomorrow afternoon/Christmas Family Craft Night fundraiser at the church tomorrow night kind of crazy busy.

Or maybe I'm just crazy, because we actually planned things this way. We agreed that we should get all the hardest 'work' out of the way at the beginning of December, so that the rest of the month will be a breeze in comparison.

But I hadn't counted on the strike affecting things so much for me this year.

Oh, not the Writer's Union strike in Hollywood. I'm talking about the strike by the local Home Appliance Union.

Not familiar with that one?

I'm not sure why, because around here, it's become almost routine. An annual cycle, really.

It usually goes something like this: I get busy with a couple of gargantuan tasks I always seem to be involved in. These tasks usually need to be done by a certain day, and the Sewing Machine picks up on this, knowing things weigh heavily in it's favor, and decides to press it's labor issues with me.

I'm getting a little worried, because it appears that the Sewing Machine has also talked to other appliances in our home which are also pressed into heavier than usual work-loads this time of year (the Iron, and the Crock Pot, and the Washing Machine), and it they're making sounds about a walkout, too.

After all the recent trouble we'd already had with the Automobile Union, this could mean big trouble.

I almost hesitate to even voice my concern about word getting around to the Computerized Electronics sector, because 3 years ago at this time, the computer crashed just prior to my getting our Christmas Card and a dozen other vital projects printed up. Took a Techie a full three days to get things up and running normally again. Lord willing, nothing like that will crop up to complicate an already delicate situation.

Now heading up a parade float committee is hard work. Even for a crafty gal like me. And I've had LOTS of help thus far.

But for the one who conceptualized the idea, there are always myriad details to tend to. Those little things that we want done just so, and therefore usually end up doing ourselves.

I'll admit, I've been working all parties involved much harder than usual, and last night, around midnight, my sewing machine up and went on strike.

Why? Because of on-the-job labor disputes and in-fighting.

And yes, I did the unthinkable. I crossed the picket line. I did some hand sewing on my own because it was faster than stitching by machine.

However, I'm pleased to report that aroud 1 am, an agreement between parties was finally reached, bringing the strike to a relatively quick end.

After considerable negotiations and the promise of a tremendous medical er, mechanical benefits package increase (intensive New Year tune-up) and more considerate regular, on-the-job treatment, including regular grease oil on the squeaky wheel inner workings, we were back in business.

There are some conditions, however. Straight seams only, with no zig-zagging, hemming or hawing, or there will be bunches (as in bunching of the bobbin thread) of problems in the future.

The mutterings have died down in the Iron, Crock Pot and Washing Machine camp, and we're hopeful that continues on through to Christmas and well into the New Year, as we're pretty well tapped out as it is.

:: :: :: ::

Since the above was such a riveting and stimulating piece of journalism, I thought you'd be further impressed by my tossing in a little impromptu poetry:



Buying fabric by the bolt
with which to decorate a float
seemed like a great idea then
before the sewing machine went on strike, again

Yes, it happens every year,
the Sewing Machine seems to slip a gear
Something gets all wound up tight
And I spit and yank and tug and fight.

Time marches on, pressure hovering over
Til the stress gets to me and I'm ready to take cover
Fabric waiting stacked in heaps and piles
To be transformed into things that will bring parade-goer smiles?



Why do I take on such tasks
I ask and ask and ask and ask.
I could have kept it simple, but no, not me
Instead I've gone and dreamed it up big and fancy

Like the Nativity Scene with costumed girls and boys
to bring our neighborhood the true meaning of Christmas Joy
Like acrylic fleece scarves in red and green
So everyone will match while caroling?



And don't get me started on trying to sew
with my little 'helper' under foot and toe



If he wasn't playing with the foot pedal
he was twisting the tension knob and testing my mettle
Playing with dangerous items on a whim
like scissors, cutting wheels and sewing pins

Perhaps it's time he went down for a nap
and I quit blogging and got back to my tasks
"Sew" much to do, and so little time
I better not even start in with that whine

The parade will be fun, and worth all the 'pain'
...though I'm not sure it'll happen now,
what with all the rain.



We're officially on standby. The decision won't be made until tomorrow morning, to allow every opportunity for the skies to clear enough for the parade to go off without a hitch.

Praying for clear skies!

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Tying Up Some Loose Ends

In case you were waiting with bated breath to know from my "Most Embarrassing" post which ones belonged to me, I thought I'd do a little follow up:

#1 and #3 were both mine...as much as I would really not like to claim either one. Especially the kissing one.

Oy, I still cringe to this day!

The only reason I can own up to these moments now is because more than a decade has passed since they happened, which is the only amount of time (in my estimation anyway) sufficient enough to take the 'sting' from it enough to share publically.

Which means that all the embarrassing moments I've had since then...well, they'll be fodder for my blog years down the road. And there have been plenty, believe me!

Oddly, both of those episodes took place in Microsoft executives homes, which made us a little leery of accepting any further dinner invitations from people we knew worked there, lol.

#2 Not mine. That was put in there for the sake of my mom who reads my blog, though she didn't own up to that one I notice. I did, however, have a strikingly similar experience in a Wendy's restaurant, which makes me think perhaps such ungainly pregnant behavior may run in my family, lol.

#4 was mine. Yup, my son has already used the F-dash-dash-dash (dash-dash) word (albeit unintentionally), and he's barely two!

I have a hunch little Judah will give me a real run for my money in this respect for some time to come, not because we're a family of blue-streak cussers, but because he usually has a binky in his mouth that makes lots of words sound like cuss words when he repeats them.

#5 Mine. I still hang my head in shame.

Ironically, one of the girls that ate that pie, long since grown up and moved away, was home visiting her family over Thanksgiving...and so I relived this one on Sunday in church, lol.

#6 This was actually my husbands moment, but I was there with him and keenly felt his pain. Especially later knowing he'd mimicked her, and our friend Jon was laughing about it! He could have at least said something and saved poor Jeff some of the humiliation. Or not, lol.

:: :: :: ::

We've recently found a couple more 'mystery toys' in our home, origins unknown.

We have a strong suspicion that they are from the church. Again.

Yes, a few of postings ago, I wrote about how our toddler has stolen toys from our church nursery before and secreted them home without my knowledge (my best guess is that they come home in the tote-on-wheels that I take to and from AWANA with me each week. I like to believe that theory, because the only other one is that I'm the most oblivious parent in the world, and before too long he'll be stealing big-ticket items from stores where they won't be quite so understanding!).

Well, our little thief has struck again. Judah has now also stolen a toy tiger.



He calls it a "kitty".

He informed me that "Kitty broken" and pointed to the hole in his tail where the stuffing is coming out.



I think he feels sorry for the kitty. "Kitty, owie" he says soberly everytime he sees it. He has dragged this poor thing all over the house.

We plan to return the kitty Wednesday, but I can already tell we're going to have a time of it when he goes down for bed, because he's already cried for this thing at bedtime.

Yes, we made the mistake of allowing him to play with his stolen toy, and now he's become attached.

Now it's bad enough that my son is only two and already has a 'rap sheet' as far as stealing is concerned...and from the church, no less!

But the other most recent theft?



The baby Jesus doll that is in our annual Church nativity scene float in our local Christmas parade. (Here the doll is wrapped in our son's blankie).

This is the very same doll I was looking for in the tubs of costumes at the church on Sunday, because I planned on taking it home to get it ready for the parade but couldn't find it.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was already at home!

Think I should be worried?

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Most Embarrassing Moments

Okay, we're gonna try something a little different today. I provide the most embarrassing moments ever, and you get to decide which (or possibly all) truly belong to me.

The names may or may not have been changed to protect the innocent.

Answers may follow in a few days (if it's not too embarrassing to own up to them!)

1. Back in the early years of our marriage, my husband was employed as a teacher at a small private school in the Seattle area. Many brilliant Microsoft and Boeing executives and engineers sent their children to this school, along with a couple Seattle sports celebrities. My husband was very well-liked by his students and we were often invited to dinner.

Being quite poor at that time, and subsisting on one very meager income, we were trying our darnedest to hold our own among these older, successful parents of the student that had invited us to dinner.

Things were going along swimmingly until conversation somehow shifted to pet-peeves, and my husband brought up how telemarketers were rife in the Seattle area. I piped in that it was probably because they now had this new, automated system that made it possible for them to ring my home, but not put anyone on the phone until I answered, thus making things far more effective all the way around, and in the process becoming the absolute bane of my existence.

Come to find out, the father, being the Microsoft genius that he was, had invented the very automated device I was referring to. And the mom, for a little something to do now that the kids were both in school, had been moonlighting as a manager of telemarketers (no doubt as feedback on her husband's invention).

The mom was very gracious and laughed it all off, but the father was a proud man and a tad bit offended by our disgust with his invention.

We hadn't even had dessert yet, either, which made things really uncomfortable until we had and were free to say our goodbyes and go. I only wished their fancy teak wood floor would open up and swallow us.

2. When I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with my son, I had to go get my driver's license renewed at the DMV. It happened that it was a very wet day outside, and just after crossing over the threshold into the very crowded waiting area there, I slipped in a puddle of standing water, causing me to flail about, arms helicoptering as I tried to regain my very pregnant balance. In front of a huge crowd of people. All staring at me as though expecting me to biff it, but helpless to do anything to help as it all happened so quickly.

It was quite a spectacle, I assure you.

The worst thing was, I did, in fact, regain my balance, but had absolutely nobody to share my utter mortification with. I was forced to sit there primly as if nothing had ever happened while others openly guffawed at my expense. It's hard to have a moment like that with nobody to laugh it off with.

3. Another time, when my teacher husband and I were invited to a student's home for dinner, it was once again to the home of brilliant and highly educated parents. Their child was an only son born to them late in life.

The mother and I were both SAHM's, avid readers and aspiring authors that had recently attended the very same writing seminar at a nearby public library, and felt we had a common bond in spite of our drastic socio-economic differences.

These folks were friendly and down-to-earth, and very easy to talk to. They insisted on rolling back their antique oriental rug from their gleaming hardwood dining room floor to allow our toddler son to play cars there. All this while dinner finished cooking in their cavernous kitchen, which boasted tons of counter space, all topped in a rare and beautiful marble imported from Italy.

Over a delectable dinner of prime rib, freshly prepared horseradish, potato pie and asparagus tips, we chatted about books, history and our writing endeavors. There was never a lull in conversation, and the woman doted endlessly on our toddler son, saying that he reminded them so much of their own son when he was that age.

Everything went marvelously well. We talked of attending writing seminars together over the summer. As we were standing around in their grand entryway preparing to leave, my new friend, very affectionate by nature, proceeded to give us all hugs. When I turned to thank her again for the marvelous meal, I inadvertently put my lips in the path of hers, because she'd just gone to kiss my cheek after hugging me, and she ended up kissing me. Full on the lips!

Though that happened over a decade ago, I still cringe even thinking about that, and lived in utter mortification that her son would tell the other kids at school about that.

Imagine my relief when our lives took a drastic change over the next couple of weeks, and we moved away the day after school let out. I don't think I could have brought myself to attend those writing seminars with her.

4. On Wednesday evenings, I am leader to a room full of high school teens that attend our church's AWANA Club. For lack of leaders and nursery space on these nights, our toddler son comes into the classroom with me, my wonderful secretary and friend helping to supervise him while I'm talking to the teens.

One night, just as I began talking, a host of sirens went blaring down the street beside the church. Little Judah heard these sirens, and excitedly yelled out a horrible word that rhymes with sucker. In front of my class. With a couple dozen teens looking on in absolute shock.

I looked at him, totally appalled, but quickly realized from the sirens what he was trying to say, but that in his excitement had run the words together. "Did you hear the fire trucks?" I asked as casually as I could muster.

Still excited, he nodded and said that horrible word again.

The students in my class, meanwhile were trying to hold in their laughter. I knew I must clarify immediately. "Judah, say FIRE."

"Fie-ough."

"Say, TRUCK."

"Twuck."

Relieved, I said, "Okay, now say FIRE TRUCK."

Again with that awful word.

The teens in my class were by this time doubled over in their seats ROFL. I was horror stricken.
After 20+ years of babysitting experience, and 11 years of parenting two sons (both big fans of emergency rescue vehicles), I finally get why other moms insist on their children referring to such vehicles as Fire Engines.

5. One time, when still fairly new to our church, I was working with a group of teen girls in a small class on Tuesday nights. I usually brought along some snack that I knew the girls would enjoy. That particular night, I stopped off at Marie Callender's Restaurant to pick up a favorite pie, which according to the banner hanging in front of the restaurant was on sale.

That evening, the girls all raved about that pie. "This is sooooo good! What kind is this?"

I happily told them.

On my way home, I dropped by to pick up our son, who my sister-in-law was watching that night, and offered her the last slice of the pie, telling her we'd just had it at youth group.

She started laughing. "You brought Kahlua Cream Cheese pie to your youth group?" she asked, and laughed anew. "Kahlua is a liquor used in desserts and mixed drinks!" she said, knowing I was totally naive where alcoholic beverages were concerned.

I paled. I'd just served my church youth group girls a pie with liquor in it?!

The thought still brings a flush to my cheeks, especially knowing that they liked the pie so well they probably all went home raving about it to their parents.

6. The final embarrassing moment involved a Thanksgiving Break trip to a friend's house in North Dakota while in college.

After a couple of fun-filled days spent sledding, traipsing through foot-deep snow while pheasant hunting, playing card games and at my friend's mothers urging stuffing our poor college-student selves on all that good home-cooked food (including an amazing Thanksgiving spread) we all watched a movie then turned in for the night. It was their family tradition for the kids to get up early Friday morning and help decorate their church for Christmas while the parents went Christmas shopping.

We got to the church the next morning, the old woman who was in charge of the project comes up to us barking out orders. We obediently did all she asked, and made short work of moving the enormous tree in, getting it installed on it's stand, and decorating it, then spreading greenery and other decorations around the sanctuary and narthex areas of the church.

Most folks, when giving orders and finding their subjects compliant will usually ease up a little, and perhaps begin to show a little appreciation for the help. Not this woman. She nagged, and fussed and ordered us about the entire time and was rather cold and unfriendly. It got a little bit old after a while.

For lunch, we met up with our friends parents at a local Applebees. Due to it being the busiest day of the shopping year, we had to wait for a very long time to get our seat. While waiting, I voiced my annoyance with "the old battle-axe of a woman who had barked orders like a drill sergeant the entire time we were there". I went on and on about it, and my friend's dad began asking probing questions to see if he knew who I was talking about. With each one, I'm like, "Yeah, that's her!"

"Oh. That's my aunt."

Can we say, Open Mouth, Insert Foot? I was horrified. Why, when this was my friends great-aunt, had said friend never mentioned a word of it to me at the church?!

Of course, my face blazed red, and they all found the whole thing to be hilariously funny, and were gracious enough to laugh it off. The father even agreed that yes, his aunt was a bit of a battle-axe. He'd never heard that phrase before and seemed to like it, allowing it to roll off his tongue a couple of times for good measure.

But to add insult to injury, said great-aunt showed up just after we'd gotten the corner booth in the restaurant. She sat all the way through the meal with us, my friend's family casting knowing winks and grins across the table at me from time to time.

Then, for all our hard work at the church earlier, she paid for the meal!

While she was a bit on the brusque side, and quite opinionated and bossy, she was a very generous soul at heart.

Ever eaten humble pie? Let me tell you, it sticks going down.

Oh, and feel free to add in your own embarrassing moments in the comments so that I'm not totally alone in my embarrassment!

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Thursday Thirteen: 13 Things I'm Thankful For



1. Living in a Country where we can serve the Lord without fear.

2. Having a tremendous Military and government system that works to ensure our freedoms are protected.

3. A faithful husband that is my best friend and an excellent provider for our family.

4. Two wonderful boys.

5. A long legacy of faith in our extended family.

6. Good friends.

7. That the Lord always provides for all our basic needs and many of our wants.

8. Cars that get us where we need to go.

9. A roof over our heads.

10. Chocolate.

11. Good health.

12. A wonderful church family and Pastor.

13. Thanksgiving Dinner and how it makes the house smell soooo good.

www.reverendfun.com

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Monday, November 19, 2007

It's My First Major Award!

In the immortal words of Ralphie's old man, "It's my first major award! I won, I won, I won!"

Thank You to Kellan for giving me the "Blogging That Hits The Mark" award.

In return, I'd like to give this award to two bloggers that I feel really Hit The Mark....Jenster, whose blog, among many other things, has chronicled her journey from diagnosis of Breast Cancer to Survivor in a serious and yet often humorous way. Always an excellent read. The other person I'd like to give this award to is Cecily R whose thoughtful and yet humorous approach to motherhood is inspiring and always keeps me in stitches.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Gentleman...Start Your Engines

Yesterday was a much looked forward to yearly event. Our AWANA Club holds a Grand Prix Pinewood Derby type event every year as a means of getting kids and parents to work together on a project, and then to run it in the big race.

It's always a lot of fun for everyone, except that this year, we scheduled it a little too late in the fall and it crowded in on the Holidays. That problem, thankfully, has already been rectified for next fall.

Jericho was all gung ho about wanting to get a trophy for speed this year, but because it was around 8 pm the night before the race (as we were shopping in the dollar store to find some Pez dispensers to hack off their heads utilize in our race car designs) I told him I don't do speed, but design we could handle.

After laboring for weeks staying up really late the night before the race, we came up with these two cars...the Pollen Jock and the Spidey-Mobile.


Here, Jericho's Pollen Jock is lined up ready for the first heat of the race.


Jericho waits expectantly to see if 4.8 oz (limit 5 oz) will, in fact win for speed.


His crestfallen look when his race car finishes last (and the friend to his left finished ahead of him). He might as well learn early in life that "you win some, you lose some".


Here, Grandma watches the race and supervises little brother. See the blur of activity to her right in the second picture? That's our little Judah.


Jericho does indeed win a trophy for design...for the fourth year in a row. Mom's with art degrees are good for something, after all.


And yes, you may have noticed that he is absolutely filthy. Yes, he did take a shower that morning, and yes, he started off with clean clothes. Boys will be boys, however, and between heats in the race, they disappeared to the back lot for an ongoing game of touch football.



I spent the morning serving food at the Pitstop Cafe, and in-between times, acted as roving photographer gathering pictures for our end-of-the-year slide show presentation. Jeff brought the devotional.


Judah watched the races from the best seat in the house. "Whoa!" he would exclaim when they'd crash into the pillow at the end of the track.


Judah's and my Spidey-Mobile lined up and ready to go.


If only "Pie-dough Man" (as Judah would say) could have used his Spidey powers to pull himself to the finish line more quickly. Yup, there he is STOPPED just short of the finish line. How pathetic is that, lol?


This was us after the race was over. We had a really good time in spite of the fact that Judah was long overdue for a nap.


But that was just fine, because he and mommy had a nice loooong nap after we got home.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

In Loving Memory of Baby Claire

Early this afternoon, I received the very sad news that my cousins precious little baby girl Claire went to be with Jesus this morning. Her family was there with her during those last moments, and finally got to see her and hold her unencumbered by all the cords and tubes she was attached to.

My family and I appreciate so very much all your prayers on behalf of Claire and her family. It's so wonderful to have friends that are willing to join you in prayer for those they don't even know. Again, I can't begin to express my gratitude...thank you.

My aunt mentioned to my mom that they could all sense the prayers that had gone up for them throughout little Claire's stay in the hospital. Though it was an ordeal that strained and stretched them at times, through it all, they felt that Peace that surpasses all understanding.

So much so, that the Doctor in the NICU even told my aunt and uncle that their daughter, my cousin Renee, was one in a zillion. That in all his 30+ years in the NICU, he'd never witnessed a mom who lived out her faith and had such grace as she did under those circumstances.

While I have grieved all afternoon for my cousin and her family during this very difficult turn of events, we do not grieve like those without hope. We know our dear little Claire is safe in the arms of Jesus. We also know that God's ways are higher than our ways. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.

We don't always know the whys and wherefores of things that happen here in this world, but we do know that God is Faithful, and completes the work he begins in us. He is still on His throne. We may never know the reasons why things happen as they do this side of eternity, but we heard about many wonderful things that transpired in the lives of our loved ones, and some of the other families also in the NICU during Claire's stay there...glimpses of what might very well have been part of Claire's purpose on this earth, and for that, we can only stand in Awe of our All Wise, All Knowing Creator.

Our little Claire was a beautiful, precious gift that will not be forgotten. We were driven to our knees in prayer, frequently throughout each day of her short life...and in doing so, were drawn ever closer to our Lord. Though clear across the country from her, I felt like I knew the little sweetie as surely as if I was there in the NICU with them. Concentrated prayer on behalf of another seems to do that.

When I was reading the e-mail from my aunt earlier today, saying that Claire flew to the arms of Jesus this morning at 9:24 am, I got this beautiful image in my mind...one of a vivacious, cooing, giggly little dark headed baby girl, being held up by Jesus above his head as fathers do to delight their little ones, Jesus laughing in delight. It's one I'll always hold dear.

In that same e-mail, my aunt Pam included the beautiful lyrics to the song
Held by Natalie Grant, which was written for a friend who lost a baby.

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling

Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

Now Entering The Terrible Twos

Our youngest son is currently in what is commonly referred to among parents everywhere as the "terrible twos". Actually, he has been in this stage for quite some time already.

Every few days, he has a streak of 'incidents' that give reason to believe in such a concept.

Like the chocolate pudding incident.


And the one involing diaper ointment used to spike up his hair like gel.


Then there was the whole cricket thing.


He was helping daddy when he found a cricket in our garage.
Daddy thought it would be really funny to tell him to go inside and show it to mommy.
Who nearly broke her ankle in her haste to get up and away from her computer chair when he thrust it in her face with an innocent little, "Look, mama...cwicked!" and she looked down and saw it's antennae moving and freaked out (and that was before it temporarily got loose in the living room...)

But perhaps the worst incident to date has involved this rather innocuous looking little toy.


A rare breed where toys are concerned. In fact, this particular breed hasn't been on the market for years, and is much coveted among the toddler boys in our life.

Ahhh, the love of a boy for his dog.


He wants to hold the puppy.
Squeeze the puppy.
Have mommy wrap the puppy up in his 'bwankie' so he can cuddle the puppy.


He's even been known to fall asleep with that puppy in his arms.


While this kind of puppy is very low maintenance rather ideal pet as far as pets go--there is a slight problem...

he stole this puppy from the church nursery!



As you can see, he shows absolutely no remorse whatsoever for his actions.

Oh, boy, do we have our work cut out for us with this one!

And just so you know... the puppy, the plastic set of teething keys, the matchbox car, the Miss Piggy happy meal toy and the toy construction helmet he has stolen over the past few weeks were all returned to the church nursery last evening.

Sunday morning, he'll no doubt have a gleeful reunion with the puppy. Or more accurately, try to wrest it away from one of the other toddlers in the nursery and once again sneak it out to the car so he can have it all to himself.

It still amazes me that he managed to get that thing (and the rest) all the way home without detection!

We're really going to have to keep a close eye on this kid from now on.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I'm So Proud Of Me!

Yesterday, Judah and I took Jeff, Jericho and our nephew Kody all over to our friend's house to help them put on their new roof. Apparently the thrill of getting to run around on a roof was more of an appeal than was driving around looking at potential future homes with mom and baby brother, but whatever.

Our car drama continues around here, and we're once again down to one vehicle. But our truck is being fixed as we speak, which I hope corrects that obnoxious backfiring problem.

My husband was pretty embarrassed when the truck backfired so loudly (and not once but three times in quick succession) on our driveway that several neighbors stepped out onto their front porches looking our direction because they were sure they'd just heard gunshots. Through the smoke of said backfiring, we saw them look curiously around, then realize that it was obviously just something wrong with their neighbors crappy cars again, and went back inside. *blushes*

So after dropping everyone off at the Chavez' home around midmorning, Judah and I took off, taking a different than usual route home. Due to road construction, we came to a daylight headlight area for a couple of miles, so I pulled on my headlights.

Long story short, we drove around for a couple of hours looking at potential properties, and got home just after lunch.

We went inside and I took a blissfully long 2 hour nap while Judah was down.

Then got up and putzed around for an hour or so until someone knocked at my door.

It was my neighbor lady who stopped by on her way out of the neighborhood to tell me she'd noticed that the car lights were on and thought I would like to know.

Yep, you guessed it. Dead battery.

Not wanting to admit it to bother my husband with such a trivial matter, I opted to call good old dad for advice on how to use the jumper cables, and my mother-in-law to come over to provide the working battery with which to jump my car.

My dad's sage advice: "There should be a red cord and a black cord. One clamp on each end is positive, one is negative...but I'm not positive which is negative or positive." *laughs heartily at his pun*

Over the next few minutes, he explained all the particulars, then told me to call him when I was done so he'd know I was okay (??!).

Apparently my dad didn't have much confidence in my abilities.

I'll show him, I thought as I hung up.

No sooner had I dug out the clamps did I realize I'd already forgotten if my dad had said whether the positive clamp should go on before the negative one or not, and fearful of electrocuting myself in front of my toddler son (securely strapped into his carseat) and my mother-in-law, and too proud to call my dad back pressed for time to delay, I broke down and called my husband over at our friends. He had to get down off the roof to answer the phone and advise me, and to tell me to head over there when I was done. After which he smugly says, "And Becky...don't do this again?"

I was tempted to send a Pix message with me sticking out my tongue at him, but I knew that his semi-useful cell phone was sitting on the counter in our kitchen, so I refrained, and hung up, growling like Marge Simpson does when she's annoyed.

So I carefully lay out the jumper cables on the driveway so that the ends are nowhere near each other.

For a moment, I'm a little bit wary, because my dad had said red and black and this set of jumper cables were orange all over. And rather decrepit, looking like they were held together by old, old duct tape.

The little patch of black cord peeking out at the base of only one clamp on each end of the cords was only mildly reasuring. And the fact that the metal handles were not covered in that rubbery stuff that tools are covered in was a little scary.

So there we were, staring under my mother-in-laws hood trying to figure out where to attatch the clamps. I finally decided on a bolt sticking up off the battery, and checking to be sure the black went with the black based clamp, I went for it.

I was fine.

Feeling my confidence grow, I boldly put the other one on. I was still alive.

Then I picked up the others, carefully holding them far apart, and clamped them to my own battery where they were both supposed to go. YAY! I did it!

My MIL jumped in her car and fired it up. We waited a minute or so, and then I turned mine on. It fired right up. We let it charge for a couple of minutes. I then managed to repeat the process without incident, removing the cables from my battery first.

My MIL was standing by her battery, and said, "Wait...since you were so brave...I want to try it. And she removed the first one safely.

"Don't let them touch" I found myself warning her.

She held the removed clamp far away, and removed the other.

We high fived, and Judah and I were on our way.

Ahhh, the feeling of accomplishment. I wonder if I could manage replacing the brakes on our 'new' car?

Nah--Jeff needs a little something to boost his confidence, too. We'll just leave that job to him. ;o)

Monday, November 12, 2007

In Honor of War Vets Across The Country


As the saying goes, "If you can read this, thank a teacher. If you can read this in English, thank a U.S. Military Veteran."

FREEDOM ISN'T FREE

Thank a Veteran you know today.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Friday, November 9, 2007

Feelin' A Bit Under The Weather

Yeah, so we're feeling a mite peaked 'round these parts. Thankfully it's just the aches & pains, and not the other kind of flu.

Still, not fun.

Yesterday, while doing the simple task of folding laundry, I found myself perspiring profusely, as though I'd just been practicing for a football game by doing wind sprints and push ups (not that I've ever done this, mind you, but so my husband tells me...) and suddenly felt great sympathy for all those I know of suffering from hot flashes, because I'm pretty sure that episode was a taste of what they feel like.

In that fuzzy pre-sickness state before actually realizing I was sick, I started to get a little worried. I know I'm not in the best physical shape, but come on...getting winded and sticky just from folding laundry? What is wrong with me?

Which caused me to think wild thoughts like maybe my heart was acting up. And then I began to feel really sad and sorrowful thinking about what would become of my family if I were to die of a heart attack. Then guilty for having fallen woefully behind on my scrapbooking, so there would be no physical memories of Judah and his mommy, just the virtual ones on my blog, which would eventually get cut off because I wouldn't be around to update it, which made me a weepy, miserable wreck.

And that was when I noticed my back and joints ached.

Like sunshine on a dreary day, I realized, it was the flu. Just a harmless little old case of the flu!

Okay, so flu's aren't exactly harmless, or little, but hey, in light of all my half-delirious concerns in the preceding hour, the flu sounded pretty good in comparison.

I put Judah down and took myself off to bed for a much needed nap.

Naturally, it didn't last long. Maybe 40 minutes tops.

That's because when one of my kids is sick, my mother's ear becomes bionic. Jericho was calling for me from his bedroom, with the door closed and a fan on inside, to my bedroom down the hall also with the door closed...and still I could hear him. Which also accounts for my severe lack of sleep the past couple of nights.

In the process of getting up to get him some food, Judah woke up calling for me, and the possibility of a longer nap was all over. I trudged to the kitchen to get the boys some lunch.

After feeding the kids, I got a call from the church secretary, telling us that our friend Michael is in the hospital with gallstones, and about to go in for emergency surgery. Which necessitated a flurry of phone calls, e-mails and text messages to all the appropriate parties to get back-up help into the church tomorrow to get things ready for our AWANA "workshop" day, which is where kids bring their Grand Prix cars in to work on them and get them ready for next Saturday's race. By the time I was done, I was exhausted.

Judah, as fresh from his short nap as though he'd slept all night long, took the opportunity to run along the sofa and knock over the piles of folded clothes from yesterday. And Jericho, who is remarkably chipper for such a 'sick' child, requested more toast. While that was in the toaster oven, I looked around in dismay at my sorry mess of a kitchen, and I knew that there was no way I would be using this weekend to get the house in shape for Holiday decorations. *sigh*

A quick glance at the clock told me it was still hours before Jeff got home from work. *heavy sigh*

Just when I was at my wits end, feeling icky and irritable, Judah came in looking up at me like this and asked in an endearing little voice, "I hold you?" all sweet and cuddly.

Scrap the plans for a clean house. We're going to go kick back on the couch for a couple of hours and watch Pride & Prejudice.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

The Gradual Disappearance of Halloween Candy



Day 1: The day after halloween. Jericho had a pretty nice stash of candy.
General attitude towards candy: At least three times I was asked--er, begged, "Can I have some mom, please?" (complete with the big pleading eyes of Puss-in-Boots from the movie Shrek 2).



Day 2: Candy stash conspicuously devoid of anything chocolate (thanks to the man of the house).
General attitude towards candy: "Can I take some in my lunch today, too, mom? Please?"



Day 3: The pile shrinks. Jericho weeds out all the Pixie Stix and Twizzlers and tosses out the Tootsie Rolls. I allow him the Twizzlers, but keep back the Pixie Stix in a secret stash I am saving for him for much, much later on the top shelf of the pantry.
General attitude towards candy: "I love Twizzlers, but Tootsie Rolls are only good in Tootsie Pops."



Day 4: While daddy was supervising--er, distracted by a movie--Jericho asks for some candy and is granted permission, except that he hoards away all the boxed candies in his backpack, apparently to eat during class the next day (which is not allowed, either by the school or by mom). I find them while putting his library book in his backpack and remove them, banishing them to a top shelf in the pantry, but enjoying the box of Hot Tamales while reading blogs.
General attitude towards candy: Jericho doesn't even ask for any today, no doubt feeling a little guilty for hoarding the boxes of candy in his backpack then finding them missing.



Day 5: Laffy Taffy is thrown out due to the fact that little brother found a stray piece beside the freezer, and choked on a hunk of it after he gnawed into like a rodent. DumDum suckers are put in the stash on top shelf of the pantry, because they are found to be a great way to keep little brother happily occupied for up to half an hour, so long as he's confined to his car seat or high chair so he can't get everything within reach sticky and his teeth are thoroughly brushed afterward.
General attitude about candy: Jericho is rapidly losing interest in candy, but takes a couple of pieces of bubble gum to try for a record breaking bubble. He throws all the Smarties out, because "Nobody even likes those". Upon spotting the overlooked package of Whoppers, however, mom says, "Oooh! Oooh! Those Whoppers are SO mine!"



Day 6: Sweet Tarts, bubble gum, Now & Laters and Runts are added to the keepers stash on the top shelf of the pantry. To be used as bribes for extra chores during the Holidays.
General attitude about candy: No interest whatsoever. Jericho didn't even take a piece of bubble gum when asked if he wanted anything that was left.



Day 7: The sad remnants of unwanted candy. Cute as they are, I guess nobody wants gummi pumpkins with what looked like orange coconut sprinkles on top or the lemon tootsie rolls.
General attitude about candy: Nobody wants to even look at candy, so I tossed the rest in the garbage. Including the secret stash.
Everyone is sick to death of candy.
Sick, sick, sick of it.

No, really. Sick.

As in the flu sick.

Is it any wonder that a virus could thrive so well, what with a weeks worth of sugar overload pulsing through Jericho's veins?

You'd think after 10 years or so of this, I'd finally learn my lesson and dole it out with a little more restriction.



At least he's been cooperative about drinking plenty of water, and staying in his room so he doesn't spread the germs to the rest of us.

He did have a fever, or I would have been a little bit suspicious that he was just playing sick so he could stay home from school, watch movies and have mom wait on him hand and foot all day long.

I'm not feeling so hot myself. Think I'll hit the sack early tonight.