Monday Musings

They are predicting a 'storm of the decade'.  I wish it would be like the above picture.  The stolen picture had a caption about it being the Blizzard of 1977 which I totally believe.  We had snowbanks high enough to sled off our neighbor's garage in South Dakota.  Those were the good-old-days.

Funny thing I noticed again today.  The post office had a line 18 deep (really!).  The grocery store was jam-packed.  In fact I feel very lucky.  I got the last two dozen eggs.  (No thanks to the Chicken lady who wouldn't wait for me to get done talking yesterday after g.m. and left without delivering the golden eggs.And to add insult to injury, she had the nerve to say I talk too much!)  So I stocked up for the 'storm of the decade' just like the next guy.

My parents right now are over Canada (flight tracking is sure a neat thing!)  They're a couple hours into a 14 hour and 17 minute flight to a very far away place with cheese curds in their suitcase.  They're going to have special days there on the other side of the world.  Yes, my parents don't let their suitcases get dusty.  No sirreee.  There's people to see.  Places to go.  And Spirits to cheer.

Any parents out there have experience with teeth?  What I mean is teeth that don't come in?  One of the many young people here had a tooth come out almost a year ago.  And the replacement just sits there.  The gum gets all fat and looks promising.  And then it doesn't come through.  So our little toothless wonder will remain as such until the tooth fairy decides to help it down a bit.  We have an appointment in a month to see what's going on.

Speaking of teeth, I have my first cavity (albeit a small one) in years and years.  Will have to cut down on the Laffy Taffy's I reckon.

Had a conversation with the girls last night as they were going to bed.  We were talking about people and houses and unique smells.  One said that they could walk into any friend's house with their eyes closed and know exactly who's place they were at.  And I tend to agree.  It must be a combination of the people that live there, their cleaning supplies, woodwork, pets, you name it.  Everyone's place has a special smell except ours.  We're immune from that because we don't notice it when we come home.  Weird, eh?

Better go get a snack on the island for the young people that will soon barge in the door with very sloppy boots and runny noses.  Another quiet Monday will be no more.  Very random musings I say...

A unique relationship...

It's a very unique relationship.  A mother-in-law.  We all know the stories - mostly bad.  The mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship that isn't what it should be.  And I'm trying to figure out why.

There's the kindly suggestions that are taken as 'meddling'.  There's the mother wanting to be with or speak to her son and it is seen as a 'threat'.  There's tips given about the children since they have experience under their belt and that's taken as being 'bossy'.  There's the ones that stop in at any moment's notice and it comes off as 'nosy'.  And so it goes...

But I want to just say how I feel.  I have a wonderful mother-in-law.  She went from a virtual stranger to a very dear lady that I feel moved to call when something goes good or bad in our life.  She doesn't meddle.  She doesn't feel like a threat.  She isn't bossy.  And she isn't nosy.

She loves her son.  And I love him too.  And isn't that the very reason why we should be close?  She loves our children equally.  And I do too.  And isn't that the very reason why we should be close?  And I know she loves me and I also love her.  I think time draws people together.  Loving the same people.  And going through some tough experiences.  And sharing our lives.

Some day if I live long enough, I will also be a mother-in-law if one or more of our children choose to marry.  I hope I don't meddle.  I hope I don't threat.  I hope I'm not bossy.  I hope to not be nosy.  I've got a good example.  And for that and for her... I'm thankful.

She probably won't be overjoyed I wrote these kind things about her because, well, that's not the kind of person she is.  She's reserved.  She's humble.  And not one to look for limelight. But on this, her birthday, I just wanted her to know that we are thankful for her and her good example.

Happy Birthday to you Mom D!

Chatters

And nothing more.  Still thinking serious thoughts.  Thinking about life and how precious it is.  Through the gift of being more 'connected', we hear of other situations of loss.  And maybe it is a good thing.  It makes us want to reach out.  Encourage.  And intercede for help.

Had a really nice past weekend.  It started out with special company here for supper/night on Friday.  They left here on Saturday morning leaving a sweet influence behind.  Then a wonderful, packed service for a dear old man.  It was standing-room only.  He had a lot of family and a lot of friends.  He would have just shook his head slowly and smiled at the crowd.  Then we raced to Madison to surprise my much older sister and eat pasta together.  It was so fun.  The kids and I spent the rest of the weekend with them south of the border.  How neat is that!  I even 'let' her win the Scrabble game by six points.  Didn't want her to think her mind was slipping or anything.

Son #1 got his real first snowboarding experience and he loved it.  Wow... 10 years old.  He's in basketball now these days.  My heart just swells when he looks up at the stands at me with a grin.  That's my boy!  Kids are great no matter if they are boys/girls.  But I love having both.  We are lucky.

Was making the Chairman's granola today and had 4-10 minute increments to get stuff done between stirs.  And you know what?  You can get a LOT done in 10 minutes.  Believe me.  It was actually a fun way to get through tedious tasks.  Really, when you're a SAHM, so much is mundane and repetitive.  At least it's a way to make it more 'fun'.

Brought home a fresh bag of dog food today.  Now mind you Lisi met me in the driveway with he fluffy tail wagging like mad.  I thought nothing of it as I backed into the garage.  She raced to the back of the van all excited.  Is it possible that she actually smelled the dog food in the van before I even drove in?  It really appeared that way.

And the Packers!  Packer fever in these parts.  "We" are bound for the Super Bowl!  Whoooot!  The newspaper has big, fat special sections about it.  The stores are sold out of NFC champion t-shirts.  Crazy I say!  And really fun!  I think they classify me as a 'fair-weather fan', which drives the 'true' fans crazy.  Oh well.  The ride is shorter and more fun this way!

Facebook is starting to lose some luster I think.  Or maybe I'm wrong.  But I'm not seeing quite as many status updates as there were say a year ago.  True?  Or not?

Better call it a day.  And be thankful for the one I had.

Monday Musings

I don't really feel like musing much.  It's because it all seems so frivolous.  I'm sad.  For some people I know that lost someone too soon.  He was a young man.  In the prime of his life really.  And his heart gave out.  And now many hearts are broken.  And it makes me sad.  A lot of people know about him.  Are touched by this loss.  We all are sad.  Thinking of parents planning a funeral.  Siblings saying goodbye to a dear friend.  Yes, we're sad.  I remember when he was born.  He lived in my home town.  His parents, although older than I was by a few years were friends of mine.  I distinctly remember standing in a small living room rocking this little chubby dark-haired boy after he was born.  I loved to go to his parent's little place and hold this baby while his mommy worked.   He was an adorable little fellow.  And always had this little mischievous grin on his cute little face.  I wasn't around him much after those early years.  But then at another funeral a few years ago, he came up to me and wanted to be sure I knew who he was.  Well of course I did.  He looked exactly like he did when he was three. Same smile.  Same warm face.  So we're sad.  But thankful for the help his family can get from friends.  From family.  And from above.

I make a difference...

They put the sticker on my sweater with the above saying.  But did I?

I've donated blood.  I think four times thus far.  But last time I went I was a teensy-weensy bit low in my hemoglobin (iron).  So they handed me a 'Deferral Letter' and sent me on my way.

I knew today's blood drive was coming to the school.  The kids didn't let me forget.  There was to be free coupons for custard (a frozen rich ice cream for you non-Wisconsinites) and t-shirts for children whose parents participated.  So I marked the calendar.  But that's not all.  I took my vitamins religiously.  I ate anything rich in iron I could get my hands on.  I ate a lot of beef.  I made anything with lots of different kinds of legumes.  I had not one or two but three large spinach salads this week.  And I drank blackstrap molasses by tablespoonfuls.  At least three times/day for the past week.  So I was feeling confident as I strode into the school.

After the initial questions, they poked me to check the iron.  Squeeze.  Squeeze.  Squeeze.  Finally she decides on the sample.  Takes it back.  Returns within a moment.  You're low.  I'm going to try again.  Squeeze.  Squeeze.  Squeeze.  Squeeeeeeze.  Then she takes the sample.  Comes back in a moment saying brightly, 'you're 12.4!'.  That must be good I'm thinking.  So I made it?  No.  You need to be 12.5 and both samples are exactly the same.  I'll have Nicole take the next sample.  I'm sure we'll make it this time.  She's good.  In comes Nicole.  I immediately like her.  She grabs my ring finger.  Wipes with alcohol and gives me a good poke.  And then she squeezes and squeezes and squeezes and swabs and squeezes some more.  After about 8 times she finally takes the sample.  Leaves the little area.  Comes back within moments.  12.4!  I smile and say, 'at least I'm consistent!'  She laughs.  And then tells me to not be discouraged.  And hands me the 'Deferral Letter' and off I go.  Me and my low iron.

So I made a difference!  Only to our children.  You see even though I'm 'deferred', they still qualify.  They still get to bring home a very ill-fitting cheap t-shirt that says 'American Red Cross' on it.  So that's what matters in the end.

Deferred, but not deterred.  I'll be back.  To be poked and poked and possibly poked again.  Because I want to make a difference beyond a cheap t-shirt!

Happy Birthday to my much older sister!

"Big sisters are the crab grass in the lawn of life."
— Linus Van Pelt

We called her "Lucy".  We also had other nicknames for her.  "Chubs" (ask my mean older brother about that one), "Kuni", and lately "Karne".  But even though I am a full four inches taller than her, she will always be my 'big sister'.  And I'm so thankful I have a sister.  

She was the quiet one.  And the smart one.  And the serious one.  And the one that liked to be alone reading things.  Thinking quiet thoughts.  And torturing me for years and years by breathing on my neck when we shared our double bed.  She graduated from college.  Landed a good job.  And eventually started dreaming about this skinny guy from Illinois that stole her heart and drove her away to Illinois.  He was and is her soul mate.  They had the privilege of raising three wonderful kids that are now lovely adults all in their own special way.  I loved her babies to the core.  I still do.  She has a great wisdom about things (well she's much older you see...).  I once asked in frustration about one of our children and what to do.  I love the answer she gave.  'Break their will, but not their spirit'.  Nice.  Perfect.  Another thing she mentions often now that she's already experiencing an empty nest is to enjoy the ordinary family days.  And the evenings.  Just the five of us.  Making memories doing nothing special.  Just 'being'.  I like that too.  

These days she is still very sweet and caring and giving. They have a very, very open home.  She's never met a stranger.  And do you know what else?  She will tell you with her eyes dancing in great enthusiasm that 'Great Aunt Marge's 2nd cousin on her dad's side was related to a George Whistestraight because he married Harriet who was a nephew to the 2nd cousin!  Can you believe that?  How great!  Um.  Sure.  But please don't let all this 'fluff' fool you.  She's got a competitive streak.  I know.  She's made sure that she doesn't live up to the 'Chubs' nickname.  I hear what size skirt she just bough and how teensy-weensy it is!  And that is just after I finished off a plate of pasta.  

But I love her and admire her and hope I can have some of those same sweet qualities as she does.  

Here's a few sister quotes I found and love:  

Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister? 

Sisters are different flowers from the same garden. 

One of the best things about being an adult is the realization that you can share with your sister and still have plenty for yourself.

An older sister is a friend and defender - a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights.  And sorrows too.

A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. 

So happy birthday to you big sis!  (pssst.  This is a big one!)

He was family...

He was 96.  By human reasoning he was a very old man.  But to me and many others, he had the spirit of a tender child.  This morning he was released from the bondage of his body.  And we are thankful.  For him.  For his example.  And how he made us feel.

For 16 years I've known this gentle man - although it seems longer as I heard about him before that.  He and his wife had shown kindness to my own father back in 1959.  And then we started to meet with him each Sunday for our married life.  I like how we can read in the bible that those that meet together are like 'families'.  That's what he was to me.  Family.  My grandpa.  A father figure.  A friend.  This man could sing.  And he liked the hymns to last longer than they really should sometime.  He would belt out the notes and hang on to them for all he was worth.  And he knew what he was singing.  Most of the time it was by heart.  And when we came to a phrase, a thought, or something that touched him, he'd nearly break down and couldn't finish.  I will not forget that example to not just go through the motions but to really 'feel' what the words mean.

He loved families.  He had tears in his eyes when we experienced our losses.  And he had tears when we brought our babies into the room for the first time.  And he loved to watch them grow.  And throw Cheerios.  And catch a smile.  He and Mira had a thing going for nearly a year.  We'd walk in and then he'd wave at her.  She grew old enough to wave back.  It happened every Sunday until I scolded Mira and said to not do that.  I shouldn't have.  It brought him joy.  And it brought her joy.  It bridged a gap that was 88 years between.  Amazing.  And sweet.

He worked hard.  I remember stories of him laying wood gym floors and he'd stop and sleep on the hard floor without nary a jacket under his head.  Just stop and sleep and keep working.  He could fix about anything you set before him.  And he loved to do it.  For himself and for others.

He experienced bitter loss.  He lost his first wife to cancer when still younger.  He had the privilege of marrying again and had a very devoted wife through these years of weakness.  It was inspiring to see their love.  To watch her hold his hand.  A smile.  A pat.  Deep and utter love until the end.  

And so another pillar is gone from our area.  We've lost a lot of dear souls the past few years.  Those that have had an influence on our lives.  Those that have encouraged us.  Made us laugh.  And made us love.  Yes, we are a family.  Sometimes it isn't blood.  Sometimes it's even richer.