It's a Dog's Life

Consider the life of the average family dog. Sure, there are shots at the vet, trips to the groomer and hours of loneliness while his "people" are away at work. But it is a pretty good life over all. Right now, for example, my dog is laying on a soft blanket at my feet. He has his food delivered to him each morning, he gets plenty of exercise and all the petting and scratching behind the ears he can take. In the winter, he lays under the covers and in the summer we make sure the temperature in the house is comfortable. He's got a bowl of water both inside and outside. He has a basket full of toys and when we accidentally drop food on the floor, it's all his.

The best part about being a dog is that there is freedom from care and concern about the issues of the day. I came home the other day, tired and keyed up. I was greeted by my dog. He was exurburant and genuinely thrilled to see me. He ran and got a toy from his basket and insisted that we play. There was no thought about tiredness or worry about any issue facing me. There was just joy and comradery. He said "You're home!!! I'm so thrilled to see you!! Now we will play and everything will be good!" A dog lives in the moment and any moment is a good moment if there is a toy to throw and a companion to throw it.

Come to think of it, that is a great life lesson.

Friends

I have really great friends. They make me laugh. They give me perspective. They love me. And Friday night, they were willing to shoot lasers at me. My husband and I went to laser tag with four other couples. They are all people that we consider to be our good friends. One in our group called it Spouse Wars. I called it Fun Friends Friday. Either way, we all had a blast (teehee) shooting at each other. It was the men against the women, shooting and laughing, chasing and being chased. The music was loud, there were strobe lights and I didn't want it to end. The men beat the women, but it was the most fun I've had in a long time.
After laser tag, we all went to Lemongrass for dinner. There was more laughing, more fun, more just enjoying one another. We ended being the last people to leave the restaurant.
Each couple is unique and each person in each couple is completely different. We have one couple in our group who have been married just a year, while my husband and I have been married more than thirty years. We have a stay-at-home mom and a working mom. We have empty nesters and new parents. We make different amounts of money. We come from different backgrounds and different life experiences. All of the wives respect their husbands and all of the husbands love their wives. We help one another and enjoy one another.

My Mom

Today is the day two years ago that my mother died. Another year. Another 365 days. Time has, as promised, healed some of the pain. I do have days when a fleeting thought or song will remind me of my mom and I will feel the emotion like new. But I can also talk about her and laugh about her without welling up with tears. I've spent time with all three of my brothers over the past year and we've talked about mom. I can let my memories flow and miss her, but I can also embrace those memories and let them remind me of who my mom was.

In the last year my dad has fallen in love and remarried. His wife is a wonderful woman who is sweet and understanding. She shares his love of family and traveling. She teases him and makes him smile. I will admit that seeing my dad remarry was hard for me. It was hard to see him stand with another woman at their wedding surrounded by her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and have a picture taken. He looked so odd in that group. But that was hard for me because I was thinking of my mom that day, not because I didn't want him to marry his new wife. I can see how happy he is and know that it was a good thing for him to do. I believe that it is a blessing for my dad to be married and to have someone who is watching out for him and taking care of him. One day, around Christmas, my dad and his wife came to dinner at my house. We were playing games afterward. We were having fun and laughing and laughing. We were laughing so hard, we were crying. It struck me that my dad was laughing so hard he was crying. That sound was like music to me. It made me so happy to see my dad being so happy.

My mom is gone, but not at all forgotten. Her life is honored as a wife by my dad's eagerness to remarry another good woman. Her life as a mother is honored by the lives of her children in the times that we gather and share memories of her. Some of our favorite foods are those that she taught us to love. Her life as a grandmother is honored by the lives of her grandchildren as they remember their "Grammie." We carry her in our hearts everywhere we go.

Life

I've heard it said that people can't hurt you without your permission. I do agree with that to a certain extent. People who cut in front of you at the grocery store or are rude on the phone should not be given permission to hurt you. You need to let that sort of thing roll off your back. Even a co-worker who is in a bad mood and snaps at you should be ignored as best you can.
But there are some people who will hurt you and there is nothing you can do about it, by virtue of the fact that you are close to them, love them and are in the kind of relationship that warrants hurt feelings when they do certain things. If a husband falls out of love with a wife, that hurts. If a daughter has no time for her parents, that hurts. If a dear, dear friend walks away, that hurts. And why do those things hurt? They hurt because when we enter into a close, loving relationship with someone, we allow people to hurt us. That is not a bad thing. We want close, loving relationships. We want dear, dear friends. If we didn't allow ourselves to be hurt by other people, then we would know that we were keeping people at arm's length. We would know that we weren't really close to people and that we didn't allow people to get close to us. When someone says that you should not give others permission to hurt you, what they're really saying is that they don't want to be close to others. They have chosen to keep others on a superficial level, never really letting anyone get too close because they don't want any pain.
God promises to wipe every tear, but He wipes them as they fall. He wipes them as we cry in pain. He intended that we would be relational. He wants us to be close to others, while knowing that sometimes relationships will make us cry.

Honor

One of the ways that I am able to honor my in-laws is by helping them do things that are difficult for them to do on their own. This past weekend was the high school graduation of one of their grandchildren. Since we live in Northern California and this grandchild lives in Southern California, getting there for the ceremony would be a challenge for Mom and Dad. They initially decided that they would not attend. But I feel that being with those you love and who love you is important, so I encouraged them to go anyway. My father-in-law looked into flights and then asked me if I would help them. That was absolutely something I could do.

My helping consisted of accompanying them to the airport, dealing with some small amount of grumpiness, getting them settled on the plane, driving the rental car anywhere they needed to go and bringing them safely back home. It was a little way for me to show love and honor to them. Yes, I did get a trip out of it too. Yes, I did get to visit with my sister-in-law, brother-in-law and nieces. I also got to be a smiling, familiar face. I got to be a calming influence, I hope. And I got to receive from them just as much as I gave to them. It's what family is. It's what family does. I'm happy to do it.

Honor

I once heard someone say that if you don't feel like doing something, start acting as though you felt like it and eventually the feeling would come. That does sound good. But hard to put in to practice. I mean, face it, we do avoid doing things we don't want to do.

I didn't always feel like doing things with and for my in-laws. When my husband and I were dating and first married, my in-laws weren't sure about me. They weren't sure that I was the right one for their son. As the years have gone by - more than 30 of those years - they have become sure that I was, in fact, the right one for their son. But because of the tentativeness of our relationship, showing honor to my in-laws was a challenge. At first I was honoring them on the outside, but didn't always have my heart in it. I am happy to say, though, that I have gotten wiser as I have aged.

I have learned that every day with them is a gift. I have learned that we share a deep love for the man that they raised and I married. I have learned that we agree on many things, including how important it is to be involved in each others' lives. And I have learned to truly and deeply love each of them for who they are and what they bring to my life.

Now not only do I enjoy doing things with and for my in-laws, my heart swells with love when we see each other. I miss them when we are apart. And I am glad that they allow me to honor them.

More Evolution

There is much in my mind and my heart tonight. I've written many of those thoughts here only to hit the backspace button and erase them. I am sad but don't want to be petty. I don't want to make anybody look bad or impugn them. I don't want to bring shame on God because of the actions of His people by pointing out those actions. I am angry but don't want to be vindictive. I am burdened with pain, but know that I have caused pain to others so don't know how to express that pain, even in my blog, without thinking that the pain I have caused is worse. Am I really going through a personal evolution if I can't even admit my pain to my blog?

I try to look at the bright side of things. I don't see a bright side right now. Maybe there isn't one. It's an internal argument I have with myself often. "Look for the positive." "There doesn't appear to be a positive." "Then look harder." "I am looking harder!" "You can't be if you don't see it!"

Knowing that I have been cut off from some people that I love feels so bleak that there is no way there could be a bright side. Knowing that the reason for being cut off is unnecessary makes it feel so hopeless. Those are my thoughts right now, thoughts of bleakness and hopelessness.

I feel a weight and a burden that I know only God can lift. I haven't always been great at letting God take my burdens. I keep hanging on to them or taking them back. I know that I am promised relief. Things are working in the background. I won't know all of those workings until the light is shone in the darkness. Days are lost and time goes by. Time that seems to be lost forever. God promises to give it all back. I'll choose to believe in that promise. Lord, help me in my unbelief.

Personal Evolution

When I was a young girl, and into my 20s, I rarely gave my opinion about things, especially when in a group of people. This was partly because I felt that my mother disapproved of her children drawing undo attention to themselves. We were not to be flamboyant or controversial. But mainly because I felt that if I couldn't articulate myself clearly and completely, then I didn't want to mess things up or look like an idiot. I thought about things a lot and I did have opinions, but I didn't have enough confidence in myself to really express myself. Looking back, I think it made me look like I had no personality.

In my 30s and 40s, I became more willing to share my thoughts. I learned that people didn't really care that much what I thought, that conversation sometimes was done just for conversation's sake and that "controversial" wasn't the horror that I had once thought. I also became pretty uptight about some of my opinions. I was rigid and saw things in black and white, knowing of course that there were other ways to look at things than the way I did, but felt that my way was the right way. This made me appear to have a strait-laced personality.

Now that I'm in my 50s, I've been completely rethinking so many things that I have come to a new stage. I can see the need to knowing what you believe and why, but also see that an opinion is just that, an opinion. People are more important than what you think of them and love and acceptance go a long way. I'm allowing myself to be more flexible. I am wrestling with myself on some of my opinions, but I feel that I have a more relaxed personality. I like this better.

Mother's Day

My mom died in July 2008. While it wasn't unexpected, it was sudden and very sad. Every single day, I think of my mom. Every single day, I miss her. Last year, the first Mother's Day without her, was tough. I felt sad for a couple weeks leading up to it, and then realized what was coming. This year I was a little more prepared. I've gotten to the point now, where I can just sit and think of her without crying. I'm still sad, but I don't cry. But because Mother's Day is the day that we all try to make sure that we tell our moms how much we love them, and I can't really do that, I wanted to make sure that I spent some time thinking about her. Not just thinking about the loss, but thinking about some happy memories.

One of my happy memories will sound a little odd. My mom loved to play games. Card games. Board games. Word games. It didn't really matter. She would get us kids together and we would play games after dinner way more times than I can remember. She pretty much always won. It didn't matter what we were playing, she would win. She would never go easy on us. She was competitive and wanted to win and didn't hold back, even though we were just kids. In fact, there were times that my youngest brother wasn't allowed to play some games until he got older because it would hold back the competition. I never thought it was odd or that she should let us win. Its just the way it was. Remembering my mom say "I win!!!!" again and again makes me smile. She would be laughing and laughing. And rather than pout about losing, AGAIN, provides me with a happy memory.

Another happy memory comes from my oldest daughter's first Easter. She was born in July so her first Easter was when she was close to a year old. My mom decided that she wanted to buy Wendy her first Easter dress. We went to the nearby shopping mall. We looked at lots and lots of beautiful Easter dresses for little girls. My mom had about five dresses in her hands and asked me which one I liked best. I don't remember which one I choose, probably something blue, because it is my favorite color and Wendy looked so good in blue. But they were all very cute and very frilly. My mom agreed with my choice and then bought all five. She was having a blast buying clothes for her first grandchild. Another happy memory.

I did the same thing this year that I did last year. I put flowers on my mom's grave. I stood there and told her that I love her. And I enjoyed a couple happy memories.

I love you, Mom.

More Waiting

How did we get here? What happened to bring about this great chism in our relationship? I know that choices were made. Things that I wish I could go back and change. I should have chosen a different homeschool option. I should have questioned things more closely. I should have been stronger about keeping tabs on my kids. I should have said "No, you may not do that." But you can't go back in time and change how you would do things. You get only one chance and once that chance is over, it is absolutely over. God promises to redeem the year that the locusts have eaten, but He doesn't say when and He doesn't say how. We just have to wait. More waiting.

Waiting

I've been experiencing some physical symptoms for the past couple of months. Things that are out of the ordinary. Some days are horrible and other days aren't so bad. The aren't-so-bad days make me think that it's all just really nothing. Maybe I'm imagining things. Maybe it was stress or aging or just me being over-analytical. But, I did what people tell you to do and I went to the doctor a couple weeks ago. We started the process on tests. Now I'm waiting. Waiting for the results. Waiting to find out if I'll have an answer or if I'll have to do some other tests. And wait some more.

Humanity

I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. I believe that people are basically good and want to do the right thing. And when something happens to reinforce that belief, I am encouraged. On April 20, I traveled to Connecticut to visit my niece and my daughter. The visit was good and I returned home on April 26. The trip home seemed to be uneventful. This morning I was opening the mail and there was an envelope addressed to me with no return address. It had been mailed for Hartford, Connecticut. I was mildly curious. When I opened the envelope, my drivers license fell out. I was surprised and at first thought it was a spare. (It is funny how one's mind works.) I got my wallet and looked inside, and sure enough, my license was not inside. I wondered where I had lost it. I had to have it to go through security at the airport, so must have dropped it at the airport. Someone picked it up and mailed it back to me. Thus reinforcing my belief that people really do the right thing. Thank you.

Foam

Lots of things fascinate me. Today I went with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law to a foam and upholstery shop to replace the foam inside the seat cushion of my mother-in-law's favorite chair. Now, it really wouldn't have occurred to me to do such a thing. I would have considered the chair old and ready to be replaced. But mom just wanted new foam. So we found a shop that did such a thing. The place looks like its been around for 30 or more years. It is one of those places where, no matter where you look, you see something interesting. Old signs and notices, any kind of upholstery you can imagine. The telephone was the old rotary kind. Even the cash register looked like it was from the 50s or 60s with the buttons and the bell when the drawer opened. I love places like that. They have so much character.

When we walked in, the owner was cutting foam for another customer, who was refinishing a camper. It was measure, mark, cut. Very quick and very accurate. The foam was cut with an electric saw. I was enthralled with the way the man worked; no unnecessary movements. You knew he had done this thousands of times. We had the chair cushion with us. The man traced around it on a thick piece of foam, cut it out, again quickly and accurately, and glued batting on it to make it more cushiony. More customers came in behind us and I could have stayed all day watching.

Confession Part 2

I did confess that I murder plants. I have murdered many, many plants over the years. I'm always hopeful that the lovely flowers and tomato plants that I put out are going to do well, grow and flourish. They don't. They shrivel and die. But I do get those ugly disengenuous weeds. I pull out the weeds. I have been pulling out weeds for several days now. Someone recently pointed out to me that if I can get weeds to grow - they are plants, after all - I ought to be able to get the plants I WANT to grow. Well, I have a new strategy. I ignore the weeds. I don't water them, I don't tend them, I don't hover over them and plead with them. Perhaps I should do the same with shrubs and flowers and tomatoes. Perhaps they would all do better if I just glance at them from time to time and mumble. Maybe it will work........

Anger

I have a hard time being angry. No, not being angry, but expressing my anger. Expressing anger was discouraged by my mother. I think it scared her. She was married at a young age to someone who dealt with his anger by hitting people. When I was first married, I tended to slam cupboard doors and drawers. I didn't talk about why I was angry, but I did let those around me know I was angry. A few times I would yell. But then the emotion of the situation would take over and I would start crying. The words that I needed to say wouldn't come out because of the tears and that was just frustrating. Better not to say anything than to be frustrated. As I've gotten older, I know that that was an unhealthy way to deal with my thoughts and feelings. My husband and I have managed, after 30 years of marriage, to work out ways to communicate our feelings that is better and healthier. And truthfully, after all this time, I just don't get angry at my husband like I used to. We've got it all worked out very well.

But I do still struggle with how to express my anger to other people. I still feel that frustration rising up when I would rather be clear, concise and articulate. I still need to work it out.

Don't give up trying. The answer is just around the corner.

Mobile blogging

Friendship

Six or seven years ago, I met someone new at church and we became friends. She owned a florist then and my youngest daughter started working for her part-time after school and on weekends. When my daughter was getting ready to go off to college, my friend asked if I knew anyone who would want to take my daughter's place at the shop. I told that I would. I knew nothing about flowers or the retail business. But I knew that this friend was a kind, gentle, caring person and I wanted to get to know her better and be around her more.

That decision is one of the best decisions I've ever made. I started working the weekend before Mother's Day, which was a trial-by-fire experience in the floral world. I worked for her until that Christmas, when she decided to close her shop. But those eight months brought us closer together than we expected. Since it was a small business - 3 employees and the owner - we spent a lot of time together. There were times when we were very busy. But there were times when it was relatively quiet. During those quiet times, we would talk. We talked about anything and everything. We solved the problems of the world. We joked. We laughed. We cried. We worked and talked. We sat and ate lunch and talked. She says that I was there for her during a critical time in her life because while I worked for her, she decided to close her shop and then did close her shop. I helped her think it out and grieve over the loss of the customers she had come to know and love. But as is always true in a friendship, she was also there for me at a critical time. My youngest daughter went off to school, our nest was empty and she allowed me to voice some of my thoughts and feelings about that. My other daughter had gotten married and she allowed me to voice some of my thoughts and feelings about that.

When her shop closed and we realized that we wouldn't be seeing each other on a regular basis, we came to the conclusion that we wanted our friendship to be given the opportunity to continue to flourish. So we made a pact that we would get together once a week for dinner. She moved about an hour from where I live, but we have kept that pact. Every week she drives down so that we can meet together. And we talk and laugh and cry. She listens while I talk about whatever is going on in my life and I listen while she talks about whatever is going on in her life. She gives me perspective and I give her perspective.

Friendships are important and I have many good, good friends. They take time and they take commitment. Friendships don't grow if you don't keep them going. It has to be a conscious effort. You need to decide to be a friend. I'm glad I decided to be a friend to my friend, Wendy.

Confession

I have a confession to make. Its something that not too many people know, except my husband and one or two other people. I'm not proud of it but I just can't help myself. You see, I am a murderer. I have killed more plants than I can count. Every spring it's the same. I search on-line for the plants that will do best in my yard, with its big oak tree and lots of shade. I get books from the library and read up on the proper way to fertilize and water. I talk to the experts at the nursery to find out how best to care for the plants that I decide to buy. I bring them home and lovingly put the plants in the ground or into pretty pots. I try and try. I try hard. I watch over the plants like a mother over her children. In the beginning, the plants appear to be doing well. They grow. They sprout. But then something happens. They start to look less than healthy. They wilt. They stop sprouting. By mid-summer, the plants look like they're not doing so well. It becomes obvious that I have killed again.

It isn't what I want. I want to have a backyard that is lush and green, with pretty flowers. I want to be able to sit in my yard under my shady oak tree and read or think. I want to be able to have people over to sit in my yard under my shady oak tree with a glass of wine, filling the evening air with laughter and conversation. I want to know what I'm doing, so that I won't kill anymore. I've thought of giving up and just letting the weeds have their way in the yard. But the weeds that end up growing there are not the lovely kind of weeds that all least make things look pretty in a wild sort of way. I get the kind of weeds that are dishonest. They stick up funny like a cowlick on a little boy's head. And one day I go outside to find out that they aren't green anymore, but ugly brown.

I've also thought of just concreting the entire yard and letting myself off the hook in the pretty, lush yard department. That seems so much like the coward's way out though. So every spring, I try again. Hope springs eternal, they say. So I feel hopeful again this spring. This afternoon I was out pulling out the ugly weeds and thinking of what else I could try. Is there a book I haven't looked at yet that will have the answer? Maybe a new nursery with just the right expert? Maybe this year will be different. In the back of my mind, though, lurks the feeling that I'm about to kill again.

Car Trouble

My car stalled on the way home from work today. I was on a relatively busy street in the middle of three left turn lanes, with my hazard lights on. There was plenty of room to go around me. Yes, I was blocking traffic but there were alternatives. What I discovered while I was sitting there waiting for the tow truck to come was that about one-third of the other drivers figured out right away what was happening and went into one of the two other turn lanes. Another one-third of the other drivers would approach from the rear, sit behind me and honk when I didn't move. They just couldn't seem to understand that my hazard lights meant that I was not, in fact, going to move. And the final third of the other drivers would try to go around me but would VERY nearly run into the other drivers who were in the other two lanes. I saw several near misses. I was more afraid for my fellow drivers than I was for myself. So I had people honking at me and people honking at each other because they just couldn't seem to get it. Amazingly enough, because my windows are somewhat tinted, it didn't bother me at all. I could sit in my little, disabled car and let them all do whatever they were going to do without it really affecting me at all. In fact, I made up a little song to amuse myself while I waited. "Just waiting for the tow truck driver, waiting, waiting. In my little car. Just waiting for the two truck driver, waiting, waiting. La la la." Okay, not winning any Grammys anytime soon. But it does help to keep yourself occupied.

Bathroom Part 5

Finished, finished, finished!! I got the floor installed and I love it. I've never done anything like this. And I'm so glad I did it. Getting the parts around and behind the toilet were a challenge. But if I ever do this again, I now know some shortcuts and tricks. It isn't perfect, by any stretch. And I still have to put in the border and quarter-round. Those things will get done. The big thing for me is the floor.

Bathroom Part 4

I'm so excited!!!! The entire floor is scraped and clean. It took me about six hours today but I've done it. I have no major chemical burns and all of my body parts. That makes me feel good. My arms, back, shoulders and hands are sore. But that'll all go away. I'm just excited to have the floor ready for the new flooring. This is the first time I've ever done anything like this before. I feel like jumping up and down with excitement, but I'm too tired. I might do that tomorrow.


This morning while I was scraping, I was thinking. You can do that a lot when you're just scraping. And I realized that I've changed quite a bit over the years. Last night, my dad and his wife Dawn and my in-laws came for dinner. The floor of my bathroom was only partially finished and yet I did not panic. I was okay with it. I was calm and comfortable. We laughed and I had a great time. When I was younger, if we were ever having anyone over, I would have spent the day "getting the house ready." We've never had a fancy house, but I would freak if anyone saw it without having vacuummed and dusted, etc. And to be in the middle of a project like this, I would NEVER have agreed to let people in the house. I have learned, though, that people come to see me and not my house, no matter what condition it is in. In fact, on Saturday we're having a couple of friends over for game night. The new floor will not be put down by then. So they will see a bathroom that just has a concrete floor. But I'm okay with that. I'm looking forward to these particular friends and plan on having a great time. Concrete floor and all.

Bathroom, Part 3

I worked on the bathroom floor all day on Saturday and managed to strip off the top layer of the linoleum. What was left was the backing of the lino and LOTS of glue. I spent the next 5 hours with a razor scrapping, scrapping, scrapping. And I got an area about 1 foot x 2 feet cleared. I did not expect this to go quickly, but I really thought that most of the glue would be around the edges and the middle would be relatively glue-free. I had to give some deep thought to switching to a chemical solution. I wanted to avoid it because....well, its chemicals. And anyone who knows me knows that I shouldn't be trusted with chemicals that could potentially take off layers of skin. But then I shouldn't be trusted with a razor either and I still have all of my fingers. After some discussion with Tom and a great deal of time with a glass of wine and my friend, the Internet, I finally decided that I would try an adhesive remover. Chemicals. I promised myself I'd BE CAREFUL!!

I took the day off yesterday for church and the Super Bowl. I managed to invite myself to watch the game with some relatively new friends, Tom and Heidi. My Tom had planned on watching the game while working, so I wasn't abandoning him. I had a great time. The game was good, the food was superb and the company was wonderful. I'm glad I did take the day off from the floor because my hands really needed a break. My shoulders, arms and fingers were very sore.

This morning I went to the hardware store and bought some of those thick rubber gloves for chemical work. They come in one-size-fits-all. Which means they are huge. But I started in with the adhesive remover and managed, in two hours, to get an area about two feet by two feet cleared. It meant making several passes over each small area to get through everything. And I only got one very tiny chemical burn on my arm. But I am encouraged. At this rate, I predict that I'll be able to put down the new floor by Wednesday. I have a feeling of accomplishment this afternoon.

Bathroom Part 2

I've been at it for 2 -plus hours and I have an area about 1 foot x 2 feet scraped off. At this rate, it'll take me until June. Am I doing this right? Is there an easier way? Should I just put the new floor on top of the old floor? Lots of questions. But I've got lots of time to think.

Bathroom

I have four days between now and the next time I have to work. In those four days, I'm going to take up the old linoleum in our front bathroom and put down new. I've never done anything like this before. I don't exactly know what I'm doing. But I do hate that old floor. And I do want to try to do it myself. I have the internet to help me - thank you howto.com. And I have a lot of determination. I'm not afraid of hard work and lots of scraping. I WILL have a new floor.

Things to Remember

I like cheap cooking wine just fine. No need to buy the expensive stuff.
After 30 years of marriage, my favorite place to go on a date with my husband is home.
After a year of telling him no, my dog will still steal my socks if given the chance.
No matter how small your purse is, you should always carry a safety pin.
People come to see me rather than the state of my house, but to make people feel more comfortable, I should keep my house clean and tidy.
Other people have good ideas too.
Always tell the people that you love that you love them. You never know when it will be the last opportunity.
It's easier to keep up than to catch up.
You don't really know how long you're going to live, so take good care of yourself in case it's a really long time.
Paying your taxes, working hard and being a solid member of the community IS giving back.
Fostering a good relationship with my in-laws was one of my better ideas.
Really listen to people. There's a lot behind their words.
Play with the dog; you'll both be glad you did.

Saturday Walk

In the last 13 days, we've had rain 11 of them. That's a lot for Northern California, where the average yearly total is less than 20 inches. We get most of our rain in January. By April we will have little to no rain until November or December. Now a rainy day is like heaven to me. I love rain: the sound of it, the feel of it, the way the house feels when it's raining outside. I love everything about rain, so the past 13 days have been wonderful. I've been enjoying it immensely. And one of the things I love the most about a string of rainy days is what happened this morning.

After a sleepless night, I got up at 6:30 am. My little dog got up with me and we sat in the big round chair for awhile, reading the newspapaer (me) and getting petted (him). When it got light outside, I got dressed and hitched Willie up to his leash and we went out for a nice, long walk. As I stepped outside I could feel something wonderful. The air was so clean and so fresh smelling, a smell that could only be brought on by a long cleansing rain. The sky was the famous deep blue that so many people live here for. The temperature was perfect for a walk, upper 40s with the taste of a breeze. The streets and sidealks were wet and when Willie sniffed the grass, he came up with a wet face. The freshness of the day, the quiet of the morning and the smell of the air are why I love the rain so much. We only get that after it has rained long enough to really clean things up.

I've lived here for 37 years. I've wanted to live elsewhere, where there are more than two seasons and the average rainfall is more than 20 inches per year. I miss the rain from April to November. But this morning, it was the perfect start of a day in Northern California.

Moms and Kids

John Mayer sings a song that goes like this:

Fathers be good to your daughters for daughters will love like you do.

Girls become mothers who turn into lovers, so mothers be good to your daughters too.

There's a lot of wisdom in that little refrain. I have a corollary to it.

Mothers be careful what you say because your children are always listening.

I know, it doesn't rhyme as well as John's little ditty. But it's just as important. Whether you work in the home or outside the home, have a full-time job or a part-time job, you are vital to how your children will think about many things and how they show the world what they think. You are the first teacher your children will have. When they are young, they think you are wise and all-knowing. They pick up your habits, good or bad. They want to be just like you. So be careful what you teach.

If your husband works hard and has to come home late, the way that you react to the news will be transferred to your children. When he walks in the door, if you say "I'm so glad you're home. Thank you for working so hard." your kids will have the same attitude. But if you complain and greet him with "Well, you're finally home!! Do you realize I've been stuck with the kids all day!! You're never here when I need you!" then the kids will have the idea that their dads are jerks who are never around when you need them. If, however, you explain to your children that their dad works hard because he loves them very much and wants to provide for his family, they catch that. You have the ability to set the tone for how they see their dad and his job. They won't think of the missed events or times he may have been late. They will think of how respect they have for a man who works hard to keep his family provided for. Having a general attitude of respect for the father of your children is important. I've heard moms call their husbands idiots or worthless, in front of the children. After a while of hearing that, the kids start calling their dads idiots or worthless. Little girls living in that kind of environment will believe that that is how they are to see men. And little boys living in that kind of environment will believe that that is what they are.

Now, if your husband has a problem keeping a balance between work and home, that does need to be addressed. Don't get me wrong. But that discussion needs to take place away from the children, in private. Don't let that conversation be one that takes place in front of the children. They are not mature enough to handle it. Work on your relationship, absolutely. But do it appropriately. Get counseling. Find another couple to talk to. Seek out a pastor or spiritual advisor.

Your children also pick up on what you think of others. If you harp about other drivers when you're out running errands, then other people will be seen as inconvenient and less important than they are. If you talk about a store clerk in a disparaging way, then clerks become lower class citizens. But if you are understanding and forgiving, that is what your children will be toward others. And if something happens that really is unexplained and annoying, then keep it to yourself. Share it with a friend later. But don't give your children a picture of other people that they don't have the discernment for.

The lessons that we have to teach our children are endless. Some of the time we teach those lessons with great purpose and precision. And some of the time we teach lessons without thinking or realizing what we're doing. Think and consider what you're doing. Listen to your children when they don't know you're listening. A wise mother knows her own children. Know your children, but also know where they're learning their lessons.

People are Funny

I was in a Walmart yesterday and the cashier's name was Dorothy. After I asked, she admitted that, yes she once did have a little black dog named Toto.

On New Year's Eve I was flying home from Tampa, Florida. On the plane was a woman who turned 100 years old that day and she said that it was her first ever airplane ride. I wonder, what took her so long? When she was in her 80s, did she realize "I've never been on a plane. I'll just hang back and wait till I turn 100 and then go for it?"

The library where I work is closed for remodeling. We have a HUGE sign on the front door explaining that we're closed and will reopen in about a month. Daily, we have someone come up to the door, try to open it and then pound on the sign to be let in.

My Dad

I am what most people would call a Daddy's girl. My dad was the first man I ever loved. I idolized him and worshipped him. Because of the Vietnam War, many years of my childhood were spent with my dad stationed far away from our family. But when my dad was home, I was sitting on his lap, listening to him sing to me. I thought he sounded just like Frank Sinatra. Or I was playing some game with him and my brothers. Baseball, football, tag, cards or board games. The neighbor kids used to knock on our door and ask if my dad could come out to play. He was an involved father, active and fun to be around. In his mind he was probably making up for the times when he wasn't there. But for me it made him much bigger than life. I thought he knew everything, could do anything and I loved him deeply.

I watched him with my mother. He seemed to adore her. They were one of the fewest couples I knew who would hug and kiss in public. In our home, they were very affecionate with each other. There was something about the way that my dad treated my mom that taught me that a marriage was commitment and worthwhile. I can only think of one time that my parents fought and it was such an experience for me, that even that one time shaped my life. It scared me and I believe that I do not fight with my husband now because of how scared I was then.

My dad isn't perfect. Not at all. He can lose his temper. He can say the most inappropriate things and the most inappropriate times. He often messes things up when he's trying to fix things. When we were preparing to move from the base housing on Mather AFB to the first house my parents ever owned in Elk Grove, my dad had to take out an in-window air conditioning unit and replace the window pane. Because of how he was doing it or just general ineptitude, he ended up having to buy 5 panes. That's how many times he broke the pane. He would go to set the glass into the opening of the window and it would fall out onto the ground and break. Four times. It was unbelievable. My brothers and I were laughing, but Dad was not amused. And he told us so with many colorful words. So I know that he is not a perfect person. But when I watched my dad deal with and interact with my mom in the last years and especially the last 3 months of her life, I gained more respect and admiration for him than I ever had before.

My mom became ill about 5 or 6 years before she died. Her kids didn't know the scope of her illness, but my dad did. Because of her illness, she could do less and go places less and her world became smaller. And my dad allowed his world to become smaller. He still would go fishing with a friend. He still would bowl with his bowling league. But the vacations and the day trips and the outings were put aside. He took over the cooking and the shopping. He would take her to the doctor. He had always loved to travel and the goal was that they would travel together. But mom just couldn't and so dad didn't.

I thought that this was all because they just stopped wanting to travel or because they couldn't afford it. But I found out that Dad deferred to what mom could do. I think that is the epitome of "in sickness and in health." My dad was a shining example of what a husband or wife should do as their spouse becomes less able to do things and get around. When my mom died, my dad took himself off on a little trip alone to sort things out in his head. He came back with perspective that life goes on and he believed that my mom would have wanted him to go on to do the things they always thought they'd be doing together. A little over a year after my mom's death, my dad remarried. His new wife is well suited to him. She shares his love of travel and going and doing. She's affectionate like my dad. They hug. They kiss in public. They are companionable and active. I think that God is rewarding my dad for having been so honorable and respectful, with a new opportunity. My dad still cries on my mom's birthday, their anniversary, the anniversary of her death. but they're tears of love and remembrance.

Today my dad is 74 years young. He has aches and pains, and recently had a scare with his heart. But he's still bigger than life to me and I still idolize him. I'm still a Daddy's girl.

New Year's Day 2010

I love New Year's Day. It is my favorite day of the year. I know, Christmas, my birthday, my wedding anniversary all ought to come in as favorites over January 1. Those other days are great, there's no doubt. But January 1 is the one day of the year that, to me, has the most emotion and purpose.

I love to get up in the morning, after having celebrated the start of the new year, and start getting things done. I take down the Christmas decorations and clean the house top to bottom. Many people do spring cleaning. I do new year cleaning. I make soup and get the laundry done. I find places for the presents that we got on Christmas. I bring order and calmness after the whirlwind of the holiday season. I look forward to these activities every year. It's my way of restoring normalcy.

January 1 is when I look at the year that's just passed. I think about things that I've done to others. I think about things that others have done to me. I put the memories in their places. The good memories and the bad are tucked away. Some are to be captured for all time. Some are to be used as proof that there is good in the world. Some are there just to make me smile. Some are to teach me what I need to learn. Some are to be looked at and then forgiveness extended. I cry and I laugh and I feel the warmth.

More than that though, I look ahead to the year stretched out before me. I make resolutions that I often keep, but not always. I give myself permission to let some of the resolutions go. I evaluate who I am and what I have done and what I want to do. I'm not a person who makes goals for myself. But I do want every year to be a better one, both in how I treat others and in how others see me. I want to be a better person. I want to let God do His work in me and take the changes He wants to make with grace. I want to see people through his eyes. I want to find more things about myself that I like and fewer things that I don't.

It's the one day of the year that I am most reflective about the future. Can I be more helpful? More giving? Can I express myself better? Can I let the people that I love know that I love them so that they really understand?

Now, I know that people can do that sort of thing any day of the year. January 1 is the day that I set aside to do it. The time feels right. There's no job to go to. The visitors are gone. I purposefully make no plans for that one day so that the day is all mine. We all have heard "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." That works for any day of your life. For my life, I've chosen New Year's Day as the day to reflect and evaluate. Happy 2010!!