A Tale of the Garden Stones

Once upon a time, there was a mother.  Who had four children.  Four wonderful children.  The oldest child no longer lived at home.  The mother missed her very much and realized in a panic that the other children would also leave home and she had not done everything she wanted to do with them.  There were still a few life skills she had not taught them.  Like how to balance their checkbooks, bait their own fish hooks, and make garden stones.

 So on Memorial Day afternoon, she set out to make some memories.  And some garden stones.  She made the first one.  See, she said, you can use shells, and rocks, and broken pottery.  And any design you want.

Oh, I see, said the second child.  She used all natural elements.  She made a little butterfly bath in the center.  She grew up, moved out of her mother's house and became a mother herself.  She eats organic food and spends her afternoons doing craft projects with her own wonderful children.

Oh, I see, said the third child.  She carefully chose and arranged all her elements to make a cohesively designed picture.  She grew up and moved out of her mother's house and became an engineer.  She spends her afternoons drawing designs for plantings along highways, and her evenings doing craft projects.

Oh, I see, said the fourth child.  He made a weird face and a heart.  (And carved his name into the stone just in case his mother got old and forgot which stone was his.)  He has yet to grow up or move out of his mother's house.  This afternoon he made a weird face when she suggested he move off the couch.  She still loves him with all her heart.




Who knew garden stones could be so prophetic?

Best Mulch Shop Ever

What the STP said:  Goob, I am taking your mother to the mulch shop.
What the Goob heard:   Blah, blah, blah, malt shop. 
Sorry, Goob.  This is a trip to the buy mulch.  But it is almost as good as the malt shop in the degree of happy it makes me.  And it has fewer calories.

The first thing you have to do at the mulch shop is choose your flavor.  Some of the choices were Cypress, Western, and Cedar.  Bark, chips or mulch.  We chose Premium Cedar Mulch.  We actually chose it three summers ago, so the choice now is easy.  Because I'm mulching my way around the house and I want all my mulch to match. 

When you go to the mulch shop it is good to go with someone who loves you enough to load your mulch.  And it is especially nice if said someone owns a truck.  If you look just to the left of the STPs ear you can see my little brown roof.  (To the left of the STP's right ear.  Look closely.)  If you can't live across the street from a malt shop, it is good to live close to the mulch shop. 

This is the east flower bed--the before picture. 

And this is the after picture. Even though this is a new bed there are a few things already in it besides the mulch. 

There are two clumps of peonies.  A gift from the former Pastor's wife.  I know these don't look like much right now, but the promise of peonies is enough to excite my little gardening heart today.

And four clumps of hostas.  A gift from the head teller at Dodge City Federal S&L.  I like to buy perennials but I think it is a lot more fun to scavenge them.  (If you have any coralbells, hostas, lilacs, peonies, etc. that need scavenged, just give me a call.  I'll bring my own bucket and shovel.)

I also moved the garden stones to the east bed.  We made these many years ago and I moved them  in the now infamous truck across the country from my last flower beds.  I get more nostalgic about them the older  I  they get.   I've decided they deserve their own post.  Stay tuned.

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years in Twenty Four Hours

My mom discouraged my reading.  Because when I read, I didn't do anything else.  I learned my default parenting skills from my mom.  Once I  grounded my daughter for reading after she was supposed to be in bed.  I'm happy to report that she lived.  (We all have scars from our childhood.  They give us something to talk to our siblings about at family get-togethers.)

My resolution to read 2 books a month is going very well.  Obviously, the key to resolutions is to resolve to do something you love.  In fact, I have had to edit the resolution to limit the number of books I can read to two a month.  I am done with April. 

Yesterday the STP got two new books from Amazon.com.   I picked up one called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years : What I Learned While Editing My Life. By Donald Miller.   And I opened it and I read a few chapters.  And then this morning I picked it back up and sat down with a dog in my lap and finished it before the mail came.  It isn't really a story book as much as a book about story.  I earmarked 6 pages. Here are my highlights:

If I have a hope, it's that God sat over the dark nothing and wrote you and me into the story, and put us in with the sunset and the rainstorm as though to say, Enjoy your place in my story.  The beauty of it means you matter, and you can create within it as I have created you. p 59

AND

...great stories go to those who do not give in to fear....fear isn't only a guide to keep us safe;  it's also a manipulative emotion that can trick us into living a boring life.  p 108

AND

A good movie has memorable scenes, and so does a good life.

AND

It's interesting that in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the only practical advice given about living a meaningful life is to find a job, enjoy your marriage, and obey God.  It's as God is saying, Write a good story, take someone with you, and let Me help.  pp 246-247

I'm going to go ahead and get my kayak.  Like my daughter says, "We will either have a good time or a good story."  And sometimes we would rather have the story.

To Everything (Turn! Turn! Turn!)

Just finished reading "The Four Seasons" by Mary Alice Monroe.  I did not enjoy it as much as her fly fishing love story of  "Time is a River".  Maybe because it billed itself as 'a moving novel about the special friendship between sisters', I expected that I might relate to a story about 4 sisters.  But it was a stretch.  Because none of my sisters are dead.  And I am not a European supermodel.  We didn't nearly drown my baby sister when I was 13(although I once almost let my baby brother get run over by a car...but this isn't about my confessions).  None of my sisters has an illegitimate child that our mother forbade us to talk about.  And none of my children were fathered by any of my sister's husbands. 
Unless we are better at keeping family secrets than I ever imagined.

That's 7/24, for those who are counting.

My Friend the Game Warden

I'd just like to recommend that you get a game warden for a friend.  The game warden was one of the first people I met when I moved here.  You may recall (because you remember everything I ever tell you) that I had tea at his house before I even moved.  And that he takes his game very seriously.  And that he sometimes brings his work home. 
Well, this morning when I was visiting the game warden's wife (who will be known here from now on as the GWW) I witnessed the game warden at his kitchen table feeding a baby squirrel with an eye dropper.  And speaking 'squirrel' to the baby squirrel (who is named Pipsqueak).  And I had my camera with me and I so wanted to take a picture for you, but it just seemed a little blog crazy, but of course now I regret not getting a picture and I would like to go back for the next feeding and take a picture.  (Imagine Kronk--squeak, squeak, squeak, squeaker, squeaken**)   And I would take a picture of the GWW holding the squirrel, and one of it's little laundry basket bed complete with a heating pad, because the GWW is the kind of women who will make a little bed for a baby squirrel in her living room.  And I would take a picture of the GWD (game warden's dog) sitting at the kitchen table while the baby squirrel sits on the kitchen table.
I asked the STP if game wardens are federal employees.  Because I had this panic moment (because I don't have enough other things to occupy my mind) where I thought maybe they would be deemed 'non-essential' by someone in Washington.  And then who would feed the squirrel?

**You owe me a new acorn

Getting Ahead Cold

Today was the day I was going to do a few things I've been saving for a day off.  Instead I never got dressed and I barely changed loads of laundry that I had started last evening.  I took two Day-quil equivalents at lunch time and I spent the entire afternoon on the couch.  What would Ny-quil do to me?  And why are cold medications so complicated?  Runny nose and itchy eyes.   Fever and cough suppressant.  My favorite:  cough suppressant and expectorant.  How exactly does that work?  So far all I have is nasal congestion.  And various side effects from my meds.  If I manage to breath through the night, tomorrow I am going to try Kleenex.

She Wore the Dress and I Stayed Home

Sisters, Sisters.  I am planning to get together with my sisters this year.  And I am having as much fun planning as we might have when we are together.  I think we could spend a few days scouring for treasures at The World's Longest Yardsale.  Or we could do a fly fishing trip near my sister's house in Cattaraugus County.  Or soak up the sun at my other sister's yet to be acquired beach house.  And then I saw this great idea a little closer to my house.  Families, wildflowers, and llamas in the Wyoming wilderness.  Do you think for our $1000 we each get a wrangler, or will we have to share? 

If I Could Put Thyme in a Bag

This morning I got up to go to zumba.  I wasn't able to go all last week because of my work schedule.  So this morning I got up when the alarm clock said it was 5:20.  But when I got upstairs the clocks said 4:25.  My alarm clock resets itself for Daylight Savings Time. And it decides when DST starts based on some archaic formula preprogrammed into the clock.  So evidently it decided DST should start today. 

So I went back to bed and got up again 10 minutes after the alarm went off at 6:15, which was really 5:25.  And I got ready and went to zumba.  But when I got there I was the only one there.  Evidently class was cancelled or moved and I didn't get the memo.  So I walked around the block and then back home.  And I went back to bed until 7:45. 

An unusual start to my day.  After that it was pretty uneventful.

I hope to only go to bed once tonight.

Perspective

Three workshops
Two workshop times.
This morning I thought I had to pick two of the three workshops instead of just one.  Then my roommate with a more positive attitude said we had only two opportunities to choose between three workshops. 
I wish positive attitudes were as contagious as negative ones.
I'm going to try and hang out with her all day.

Best Malt Shop Ever

Sometimes you need to travel with a local to find the best places.  I have been through Shoshoni multiple times.  I've spied out the fudge shop.  But I never even knew the best Malt Shop was right there. 

I think it might have been there forever.   They have enough toppings to make choosing your malt flavor an adventure in and of itself.  I chose chocolate peanut butter.  Sometimes I make really good choices.

I'm thinking that my chocolate peanut butter malt rated right up there with teaberry ice cream from the Clearfield Dairy or anything at all from the Creamery at Penn State.  A great start to ladies' retreat weekend. 

And you know we have to drive right by the malt shop on our way back home.

Happy Birthday Robert Bunsen

Thanks to Google for pointing out  that today is the 200th anniversary of the birth of Bunsen of bunsen burner fame.  I love me a good lab reference.  I like the smell of pseudomonas.  And the way E. coli looks on EMB agar.  Just thought you should know.

Wrap It In Bacon

A week of firsts.  The Goob got his first hunting license.  A one day bird license.  I could only be more surprised if he had ridden his bike to hunt the pheasants. 

This presented another first.   Cooking pheasant.   (Thanks to the STP I didn't have to clean the pheasant and I have new feathers in my fly tying arsenal.) 
And I just wish Mary Baron could see me now. 

Everything I know about roasting a pheasant I learned from the internet.  And I learned a lot.  For instance, I learned how to bard the bird. 

For your benefit, I will explain bard.  Bard was formerly a person who composed and recited epic or heroic poems, often while playing the harp, lyre, or the like.  Bard can be ornamental armor for a horse, or a Celtic Poet, or a piece of larding bacon or pork fat placed on game or lean meat during roasting to prevent drying out.
So I recited all the Celtic poems I know (which amounted to a man going up a hill with all the strawberries) while I wrapped the birds in bacon.  And put them in the roaster breast side down.  And then I photographed it.

Because this was either going to be really good or really bad.
I adjusted the bird and the oven temperature a couple of times and then I put the bird in a tent. 

And while it rested I made rosemary roasted potatoes and a spinach salad.  The anticipation was building along with the aroma of bacon.   The dog could hardly wait.

The recipe online also suggested I serve it with a rustic bread and a light dessert. Really?  I mean some people must have nothing better to do than cook.  All I can say is good thing pheasant season is not in the summer. 

In conclusion, any meal which includes a pound of bacon gets 4 stars in our house.

I've Got a Quarter

I know the STP doesn't appreciate country music, but sometimes it speaks to my soul as well. 
This is what my car looked like yesterday morning:

 And I am just a little tired of scraping my windshield.   So I am singing along with Jo Dee Messina:

let's flip a coin
Heads, Carolina
Tails, California.


Somewhere greener, somewhere warmer.


The sad part is that I will need more than a quarter to get someplace warmer.  So I will continue to scrape my windshield and go to work.  Saving my quarters. 
Remind me in July when I finally get to my vacation in Williamsburg that I wanted to be someplace warmer.

Brother-in-Law Day--The Sequel

Three years ago I promised you a video.  That post from January 2008 is one of my most popular, because occasionally Google will lead people there who are searching for information on Brother-in-law's Day.  Imagine their surprise to find that the celebration involves sucking and a hardboiled egg.
I am finally ready to post the video.  The only problem is that I have several of them.  And they are precious fun to me as a series.   So I have decided to post them all.  For my own entertainment and because if you are wasting time surfing the web searching for Brother-in-law day info this is exactly what you deserve need. 
Video # 1.  In which I am holding the camera sideways.  And the nephew is involved.

Video #2.  In which I have righted the camera. And a Sister-in-law has come to the aid of the BIL.

Video #3.   In which said Sister-in-law retreats to read a magazine on the couch.

And BIL decides he needs more fire.  A near success.

Video #4.  In which BIL almost sets himself on fire.  And Sisters-in-law laugh.

Video #5.  In which BIL declares he has given up on egg sucking experiment.

Video #6.  In which the real BIL celebration takes place.  Feel free to hoot and holler.

The 4DSisters are planning to get together again this summer.  We will either be doing the world's longest yardsale or a fly fishing trip.  We will be accepting applications from the husbands to see who gets to celebrate Brother-in-law day with us this year.  We might even let them drive the truck (or clean the fish.) 

Unintentionally One Fourth

I didn't mean to read the whole book.  I picked it up from the library yesterday afternoon.  I worked 9 hours, slept 8 hours, and went out to lunch with a friend. And I read the whole book.  Evidently, tempus fugit when you're reading a good book.
It wasn't on my list to read this month, but since I finished it (and the STP never returned the book I intended to read), I might as well count it. 

Time Is A River by Mary Alice Monroe

A two love story almost mystery novel wrapped around (believe it or not) fly fishing.  (that's not exactly the quote on the back of the book, but you get the idea) 
An short exerpt:

      He studied the river; then he pulled his pack of dry flies out from a vest pocket and opened it, revealing dozens of fuzzy flies of all sizes.  Maddie came closer to watch as he poked around the small compartments with his index finger, deliberating.
     "Look at all those.  How do you know which one to choose?"  Maddie asked.
     "Well, you--" he began.
     Mia interrupted him.  "You look at the river then you look at your flies then you poke around with your finger at the mess of flies in your pack, and then you just pick something small, brown, and fuzzy, give it a funny name like Mr. Big's Breakfast, and go for it."
      Maddie burst out laughing.
      Stuart lifted his sunglassed and met Mia's gaze.  They shared a silent, commiserating laugh.  He handed her a brown fuzzy fly.
     "Here you go.  Mr Big's Breakfast."

(Can't you just feel the tension here?  Doesn't the fly fishing innuendo make your cheeks flush?)

Some things this book made me want to do: 
1.  Fly fish with the STP.
2.  Fly fish with my sisters.
3.  Spend all summer in a cabin in the mountains.
4.  Tie some Woolie Buggers.
5.  Write a blog entry about the 'stories".
6.  Read The Four Seasons by this same author.
7.  Add the Latin phrase "Tempus fugit" to my vocabulary.

Idiot Alert

Made a brief stop at Barnes and Noble in the city.  Saw a "Paint Your Pet Kit".  I thought it was like a face painting kit to make your dog look like a cat for Halloween.  Turns out it was a kit to teach you how to paint a picture of your pet.  I still think the title was misleading.
Also saw the "Idiots Guide to Manga Fantasy Creatures."  I didn't even know there were Manga fantasy creatures.  How big of an idiot must I be?  Turns out B&N has a whole section labelled "Manga".  That's all I really need to know about that right now.  Just letting you know its out there.

In Search of Spring

This is my newest flower bed.  It exists mostly in my imagination and on the east side of my house.  In my imagination it is lush and green.  It will require some hard work, extended attention, and quite possibly divine intervention this summer to approach my hope for it.  Who would have guessed this is where Spring would show up first.  What?  You don't see it?  Look a little closer.

Still no sign of the daffodils, but I was so excited to see these little red sprouts.  In the Fall the STP cut me some plant markers from a milk jug.  And I used them to label the dirt, so I would know where to look for my perennials.  And I know what these sprouts will grow into.  And I couldn't be more excited.

Want to guess?  I'll give you a hint. 

Oh, and did I mention, it is snowing again today.  (The daffodils are under the ground high-fiving each other on their decision to stay put a few more days.)

That's What He Said

Spent the day thrift shopping with the STP and the Goob.  Here are a few of the more entertaining things that the Goob said:
1.  (About the thrift shops we visited)  The first one was kind of a snooty thrift shop for rich people, and the last one was like a warehouse full of donated clothes for homeless people.  That pretty much sums up our thrift shopping experience, although we did manage to find something to buy at both ends of the thrift shopping spectrum.
2.  (About the fruit and vegetable selection at the Golden Corral buffet)  I thought they might have strawberries, but it turned out to be grapefruit sections swimming in their own secretions.  No problem for him because he managed to fill up on all you can eat meat, rolls, and ice cream.  Protein, grain, and dairy.  He counted his Sunkist orange soda as his fruit and vegetable.
3.  (About our cute, young waitress)  She's really nice.  (...And later in the meal, when she refilled his drink)  Did you say her name was Valerie?  This may be the first time I noticed the Goob noticing another woman.  Not sure how I feel about this one.  The phrase 'mother of the groom' ran through my head.  Let's not go there right now.

March Madness

My dad wore wore Chuck Taylor high tops for years.  Because he only wore them on picnic/family reunion days and trips to Lakemont Park, he could get multiple years of wear out of a single pair.  In his honor (and just in time for Spring and March Madness) the flamingo returned to the flower bed this morning sporting his own pair of converse all-stars.

But no matter how often or how hard I stare at the ground there is no sign of my daffodils. 

Free Bird Sermon Notes

Have I mentioned that I love my pastor?  No, really.  He speaks my language.  On Sunday he spoke directly to my thrifty bargain-loving soul.  He used these red-letter verses:

Matthew 10:29a   Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?

Luke 12:6a  Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?

Do you see it?  It's the Buy-Four-Get-One-Free Bird Bargain.   And my pastor pointed out the relative worthlessness of that fifth sparrow.  And how society always has its fifth sparrows.  And then he finished the verses:

Matthew 10:29b  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.

Luke 12:6b  Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.

God keeps track of the sparrows.  Every one of them.  Even the fifth sparrows.  The ones at the bottom of the pecking order.  The ones that don't matter to anyone else matter to God.  I like that thought about the fifth sparrows.  I really like my pastor.  And I really, really like my God.  And what He says in big red letters in both Matthew 10 and Luke 12:

Don't be afraid.  You are worth more than many sparrows.

If I was on the twitter, I would tweet that.

Breakfast of Zumba Champions

Took two caplets of Excedrin with caffeine before I got out of bed this morning.  Whoever combined a pain killer with caffeine is clearly a genius over the age of 50.  Why didn't I think of that? 
(Maybe because I am no genius--but you can still leave a comment Uncle M.)

When Life Gives You Lemons

You can make lemon meringue pie.  No, really.  If I can do it, you can do it. 

Since the arrival of 6 lemons in our last bountiful basket the Goob has been plotting a pie.  I have been plotting how not to make a pie.  How about lemon bars?  Lemonade?  Just putting the lemons in a clear glass container or a bowl on the table? 
I was not sure if I had ever made a lemon meringue pie.  Half-way through the meringue spreading, I was sure I had never made a lemon meringue pie.  I would remember this.  (Although maybe I had it filed deep in my memory file.  Under "Things I never want to do again.")

The Goob crossed 'zesting a lemon' off the list of life skills he should aquire before leaving home.  And he learned that 'stirring constantly' and 'remove from heat' are important instructions to follow.  And we both were surprised to learn that the yellow color of lemon pie filling comes from egg yolks, not lemons as we had suspected.  Also, making a lemon meringue pie takes about three days.  And only uses 3 lemons.  But it is so doable.  And so much better made with fresh lemons than with a box of lemon pudding/pie filling.  In fact, it is downright delicious.  I was so impressed with myself and my pie baking skill (note 'shiny', 'peaks' and 'lightly browned' in relation to my meringue!) that I was thinking of changing my last name to Crocker.  Then I remembered that I had unrolled the crust from a box labelled "Pillsbury."

We have three lemons left.  I am going to make them into lemonade before the Goob gets home from school. 

5/24

From The Grasshopper Trap, pg 183:

You see, no matter how much stuff you have for fishing, there's always more stuff you need.  There's always new great stuff that you absolutely have to have, even though you didn't know you needed it before you saw it in a catalog. Fishermen spend hours poring over catalogs to find new stuff they can't possible get along without.  It's wonderful!

A sad aside to the STP's dip in the lake is the loss of his fishing stuff.  (Which was in a bucket and is now on the bottom of the lake.)  A happy by-product of said loss is the joy of replacing his fishing stuff.  Two weekends ago he managed to visit Cabelas, Scheel's, and Big Bear in a search to find ice fishing rods.  (Which should have been on sale since it is so close to the end of ice fishing season.)  ((As evidenced by the ice which allowed the STP to drop through it.))   The STP reported that they did not have what he needed, so he only spent $75.00.  Meanwhile, though, his fishing buddies have shown up with fishing stuff.  A new fishing vest.  An 'extra' rod.  An ice fishing chair.  And a brand new ice fishing rod which they happened to find on sale.  I believe the exact words were, "They were practically giving it away."  Which made me wonder if they were giving them away, why didn't he get more than one?

I thought at first this might be a guy way of reaffirming the STP.  Instead of hugging and crying to express their pleasure that the STP did not die in the lake, they find it easier to give him manly gifts of fishing stuff.   But then I rethought it.  And I think it is more likely that it is a good excuse to buy fishing stuff.  Stuff they don't have to take home or justify the purchase to their wives. 
Because there are some wives who don't understand that you can never have enough fishing stuff.

Tag-a-longs

Goob:  Can I have a tag-a-long?
Five minutes later....
Goob:  If I ever have a daughter, I am going to make her join Girl Scouts.

The Dangers of Reading Aloud

If the book you are reading is laugh out loud funny, and you feel compelled to read aloud the parts that make you laugh out loud, some in your house may feel you are reading out loud too much.  But the real risk is that someone may feel you are reading too slow or leaving out other good parts, and when you lay your book down they will pick it up and start reading it to themselves.  And then they will be laughing out loud and reading you the really funny parts.  And if you happen to be in the shower when they leave for school, your book may end up in a backpack inaccessible to you for they rest of the day. 
Don't say I didn't warn you.

In The Badlands

May 2009

That is where I am in the process of archiving my pictures.  The Queen of Queens congratulated me because she thinks I only have one year to go.  She evidently thinks I have started with the oldest pictures and worked my way forward through time.  In fact, I have archived one year--2010--and I am working my way back through time.  I am almost half way through 2009.  I don't remember when I started taking digital pictures.  Or where the pictures prior to 2007 are.  I know that I have boxes of unlabeled and unsorted pictures and negatives and slides dating back over 30 years.  And now I have several DVDs. 

I vaguely recall an old Star Trek episode where they find these old discs on a deserted planet and the engineer on the away team figures out how to make the computer play them.  Someday, if someone from another planet's away team finds my archives, they will not have a clue what life was really like here. 

Here is the Goob's interpretation of this picture from our trip through the badlands:   He is saying, "Can I get back in the car now?"  I am saying, "Stand here and get your picture taken.  We need this for the family archives."  

Four Twentyfourths Equals One Sixth

So far, so good, with my two books a month, but should I be 1/6 done with all my goals for the year?
Two thoughts from Forgotten God then:
1.  What must a caterpillar think when it wakes up from a long nap with wings and can fly?  Behold I am a new creation.  The Spirit of Him Who raised Jesus from the dead lives in me.  Pretty sure I am not taking advantage of all that means in my life.  I don't want to crawl when I can fly.
2.  I need to worry less about "God's will for my life." God cares more about my response to His Spirit's leading today, in this moment, than what I plan to do next year.  Walk by the Spirit.  Instead of worrying about His will for my future, I need to ask God what He wants me to do in the next ten minutes. 
Pretty sure it was not 'eat a bag of Honey BBQ Flavor Twist Fritos.'

Books Five and Six?
The Grasshopper Trap by Patrick F. McManus
Fearless by Max Lucado

Clean Sweep-Month 2

In January I cleaned the oven, the china cabinet, and the chandelier.  February was a shorter month, but I still managed to clean out my gastrointestinal tract, my cell phone contacts, and my checking account.

Can We Talk?

When the STP took the ice water plunge last week he took his phone along.  Even in my near death state I had enough sense to not ask (out loud) if he didn't think as he was turning around and clutching for the edge of the ice as he was going down about pulling his phone out of his pocket and hurling it back onto the dry ice.  
Lets back up.  Last summer on the tour training trip the STP put his phone in my bike bag.  In the same section where I put my cold water bottle.  Which sweated onto the STP's phone and fried it.  Which he thought was pretty much my fault.  Which I didn't quite see the same way.  My bottle in my bike bag was a problem for his phone?  We agreed to disagree about whose fault the fried phone was.  (Let's call this fried phone #1.) The STP used his free upgrade and several hundred more dollars and a $29.99 a month plan increase to replace his phone.  With a smart phone.  The STP wanted to know if I wanted to free upgrade my phone then, but I had barely had it two years and hadn't really learned how to use it yet.  And by use it, I mean sometimes I had trouble answering it, and the only way I knew to silence a call was to flip it open and then hang up on whoever was calling. 
So when the STP took his smart phone with him on the polar plunge last week (Lets call this fried phone #2 but since we are so glad the STP is ALIVE we are not going to assign blame for this one.  As long as its clear it was certainly not my fault.)  I let him use my upgrade.  So my free upgrade and $100.00 later the STP has a DROID.  Which is evidently even smarter and will do amazing things.  Like send and recieve FB messages from Obiwan. 
Okay, now back to this morning.  When the STP picks up clothes from the bathroom floor and starts a load of laundry.  Which includes the jeans I was going to rewear today.  The ones with my flipping cell phone still in the pocket.  Were my jeans in that load? 

Here is where I should insert the picture of my cellphone at the bottom of the washer under two inches of water at the beginning of the rinse cycle.  (Lets call this fried phone #3.)

But the STP and I were busy trying to decide whose fault this was. Mine for leaving my phone in my pocket near the laundry or his for picking up not quite laundry and not checking the pockets before starting the laundry.  There were a few tense moments.  Then we realized that a sunken cell phone was not the end of the world.  And neither of us said anything (out loud) that we will have to bring up at future counseling sessions. 
So the Goob gave me his upgrade, (which I combined with $0.00) and I have a new phone that has a slidey QWERTY keyboard.  And no contact information.  I explained to the helpful 14 year old salesclerk how I used my phone, and she spoke a little louder and slower, "Both my parents have this phone." And as soon as they make a phone that is smart enough to be WATERPROOF I will be happy to upgrade again.  In the meantime, we added the insurance to the STP's phone.  Because it is pretty clear who fries the most phones on our plan. 

Lets not miss the good news here.  There was enough room in my jeans pocket yesterday to comfortably carry my phone.  Am I having a good week, or what?

Back From The Brink With The Stewarts

I thought about just giving up my blog, but since you all have been clamouring and demanding new posts returning here day after day searching for meaning in your life blissfully unaware I had not posted in over a week wondering what could possibly have happened to me, I am going to just go ahead and tell you.  Let's start last Thursday.
The STP and the Goob were father-son bonding over some late afternoon ice fishing.  And I was baking chewy cherry chocolate chunk cookies from Martha Stewart's Living Magazine which I almost have a subscription to.  I decided not to renew my Better Homes and Gardens Magazine because Martha wrote and made me such a good offer.  And she was going to send me a free tote bag.  And her cooking magazine.  And it was an offer I could refuse just by writing 'cancel' on my bill if I wasn't totally satisfied.  But when the bill came Martha added a surprise 'shipping fee' which doubled the price of the offer.  And it seems to me that a mail subscription to a magazine should include the cost of mailing it.  So even though it was probably still a good offer, I had to write 'cancel' on the bill as a matter of principle and send it back to Martha.  So I only got one copy of Living and no tote bag.  But there was this one good cookie recipe I wanted to try, so I was trying it out for the Goob's class fundraiser bake sale.  And I may have eaten some raw cookie dough.  And I had a headache the size of a brain aneurysm and a slightly upset stomach.
Enter the STP who had fallen through the ice into the freezing ice water. With all his frozen clothes.  And his frozen fish.  And by the time he got home, I was almost too sick to care.  Too close to death myself to realize how close to death he had been.  So when the friend who pulled the STP out of the lake stopped by to see if he was okay, I graciously thanked him with a plate of chewy cherry chocolate chunk cookies.  I should probably mention that two years ago I had taken this man's first born son up on the mountain and involved him in a four wheeler accident that I still have parent guilt over, so now the STP and I are both in deep with this guy.  I almost killed your son and you saved my husband's life--how about half a dozen of Martha Stewart's February cookies?  I think I will have to offer him my first born son instead. 
This actually solves a problem the STP and I have been working on for over a year.  Our Last Will and Testament.  Our Current (Last) Will was crafted when we had three little girls.  I'm not sure who gets the kids, but I'm sure they did not even imagine the Goob when they agreed to take our kids in the unlikely case of the STP and I dying the same week.  They do not know how close we came this week.
My headache stayed for three days and my slightly upset stomach developed into an involuntary colon cleanse.  It was not a 'good thing'.   But while I was like Martha Stewart and the STP was like Jimmy Stewart (in It's A Wonderful Life) we both survived. 
But aren't you kind of curious if you're in our will?

Just a Heads Up

We had the head gasket replaced in the car yesterday.  Amidala says it is important to have your head gasket functioning properly because it keeps your minion gaskets in line.  (She has lived with her Pap several times throughout her life and obviously gets her vast car repair savvy from him.)

After All These Years

Finally after 35 Valentine's Days we have got this right.  The STP got me 1 ounce of French lettuce seeds .  Because he knows I've always wanted to go to France.  And since that is so not happening this year I can instead plant 60 square feet of 14 varieties of French lettuce.  Since I devote two of the sixteen square feet of my SFG to lettuce, that is enough for 30 plantings.  Magnifique!  
But that is not all.  No that is not all.  The STP took the other love of my life (The Goob) on the biannual Valentine's Day ice fishing trip today.  On the way back from the lake he stopped by the Cowboy Chocolatier and brought me home some fine Meeteetse Mud along with 6 fish.  Cause if there is one thing I like better than French lettuce it is Belgian chocolate. 
And speaking of two feet, lets talk briefly about my gift to the STP.  You must know here that I inherited my gift giving savvy directly from my Dad.  (There will be a chapter on this in one of the books.  I'm not sure if it will be in my Mom's book or my Dad's book, but I'm pretty sure there is enough material on this subject for two chapters.)  And remember that I also inherited his feet.  Dry scaley feet that snag blankets and make all pantyhose single use.  So as a gift to my dear husband, I soaked and sanded and creamed and emu oiled my feet until they were no longer like coarse sandpaper.  And then I painted all nine of my toenails bright red.  And I was pretty sure they were the sexiest two feet around.  Right up until I tried to take a picture to show you. 

And they looked kind of wrinkled.

And mishapen.
And it was hard to hide that one big toe.(But I'm not really ready to blog about the mower accident of '93.)

Close ups were no better. 
One foot no better than two.

And it went from bad to worse.  From ridiculous...

....to grotesque.

So I decided to share my chocolate with the STP.  And at the end of the day it was all good.
Its good to know that our love isn't based on gifts.  It is a gift.
Still love you, STP.  After all these years.

Glorious One

It was a dark and dreary morning.  It has been an especially long and cloudy winter. 
And as you probably already know it is not usually like that here.

You may also know that I have been enamored with sunrises, sunsets, moon halos and eclipses.  This past year was full of the most spectacular displays in the sky above my head.  And I have marvelled at the magnificence of the celestial bodies and the God who created them and holds them in place.  But Monday, on my way to work, I was listening to Steve Fee's song "Glorious One".  And I wasn't just listening.  I was singing along with reckless abandon like I can only when I am alone in my car on a deserted stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere.  (I think I will be able to sing like this in heaven, only better.  Surely with my glorified new body I will get a glorified new voice as well.  Although I think my heavenly Father is pleased to hear me sing His praises even with my less-than-glorified voice.  Kind of like how moms are happy to get a handful of dandelions from their kids.)  Anywho, as I was listening and singing, God Himself was providing the background visuals to the lyrics.  And even though the day was cloudy in the east and I could not see the sunrise, the sky in the west  opened up and the sun shone down in shades of pink and lit up the snow covered mountains.  Like God Himself doing the worship powerpoint.





Glorious One

Glorious One

Light of the world

You outshine the sun

And I was reminded that God is greater than, more magnificent than, in fact, outshines, the sun.  What a great God. 

Our hands are lifted high

our hearts are bowing reverence

and we're surrounded by

the glory of Your presence

While my heart was reverent, I kept both eyes on the road and I only lifted one hand at a time. 

With every heart that's been redeemed

we're lifting our song to the Glorious King

But I lifted my song and I set it on repeat.

With every creature every tongue

We're lifting our voice to the Glorious One

And I think the rocks on the mountaintops were crying out as well.  It was just that kind of morning.
On my way home it was snowing and blowing like crazy and I was listening to "Jesus Paid It All"

Sin had left a crimson stain

He washed it white as snow

White as snow, white as snow.  I was going to take my snowflakes down off the porch today, but I decided to leave them a few more weeks.  As a right-out-there-in-front-of-God-and-everyone reminder of how great my God is.

O praise the One who paid my debt

And raised this life up from the dead

Valentine's Contest

The Dodge City Gazette has a Valentine's Day contest with great prizes.  You have to identify baby/childhood pictures of several couples from town.  (Young people ((like myself!))who are new to town are at a definate disadvantage.)  Last year I did not play.  This year I did.  I interviewed people at Dodge City Federal S&L.  I asked people at church.  I changed my answers several times.  Basically, I cheated.  But by Monday morning I had it ready to turn in.  The only problem was that the Gazette office opens at 9:00am and the contest closed at 4:00pm.  And I worked out of town from 8:00am to 4:30pm.  Normally, I would ask the STP to run this errand for me, but he was still in a state of PSD (Post Superbowl Depression) so I was just going to drop it in the mail slot on my way out of town Monday morning.  Only, go figure, the Gazette does not have a mail drop. 
Being the resourceful person I am, and determined to actually enter the contest, I dropped my entry into the night drop at the bank instead.  Because that is the benenfit of living in a small town.  So my wonderful co-worker at the bank dropped off my entry on her lunch break.  And if I win, I am taking her to dinner. 
Winners could be annnounced in this week's Gazette.  What with that and girl scout cookies being delivered this month, I have a lot to look forward to.

February's Project Circa 2009

Some projects take longer than others.  I finally put some of the Queen of Queens' wedding pictures together and had them printed into a shutterfly book. Just took me a little over three years.  Here is my wedding advice:  get some good pictures. I have already finished my February project.  It was only two years in the making.  Two summers ago I bought an old window from the Shell Community Hall.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it.  Over time I have had several ideas.  From simply using it as a picture frame to suspending it from the ceiling over my pony wall.  (Even though I don't have a pony wall.)  Then I got the map idea. 

First I had to procure the maps.  From a map lover who has had them since the 1980's.  And then I had to cut them up to fit the window panes.

There was something about cutting the maps that felt sacrilegious--something akin to cashing in my savings bonds.  (Gosh, I love my Dad.)  Once I had my western map I had this Bonanza moment where I felt the need to burn something, so I burned the edges of the map scale.  And I added some big horn sheep photos.

And a few coat and hat hooks.

And then I had the STP attach it to the wall. And voila!

A place for the STP to hang his hat. And a project finished.

The fact that I got to use both my sander and a paintbrush is just a bonus.

January's Project Circa 2007

Click here to view this photo book larger

3/24 Reduced to 1/8

Finished my library book.  (Cold days are good for reading.) Blink.  A quick read about thinking quickly.  Not sure what I thought about it although it did prompt me to think about how I think and how I make decisions.  And whether or not I really like Pepsi better than Coke. 
Moving on to Francis Chan's Forgotten God.

Avoiding Fines

Today I went to my public library with my library card and checked out a book.  I tell you this so you can remind me to return it in two weeks.  Thanks.

Booyah!

Weather for Dodge City, WY


-25°F
Current: Clear
Wind: E at 4 mph

Not celebrating the temperature, but am celebrating the miracle that my car started this morning.