Indulge me....just don't overdo it!

Recently I've been watching a lot of television.

I know this because the other day I woke up and tried to start the coffee maker with the DVD player remote. I also used it to try and fast forward through the argument my kids were having over whose turn it was to "find the tv show listings for Mom" and whose turn it was to "move her to the other side of the couch so the cushions wear evenly".

Another more obvious clue was my poor attempt at trying to fit a 52" tv into a 42" bathroom because I didn't want to miss the season premiere of that new show with whatshername in it.

Now, before you judge me, I have to admit that some of my viewing has been very educational. I've learned how to make my own mustard from a French Chef (well, it looked like mustard. I kind of had a hard time understanding what he was calling it); I can easily identify Mammoth tusks at an archeological dig in Alaska (you know, if I'm ever there!); and I can now tuck point the basement of this old house of mine (although I believe we've already had that done. Maybe I should check with my husband.).

Some of my viewing has been entertaining. I laughed myself silly through an 80's sitcom, an Italian opera, and the weather report. That was some funny stuff right there.

On the other hand, I've also been less than entertained by a lot of the shows I've been watching. Just last week I watched thirteen movies from the 70's that starred Lindsay Wagner, forty five infomercials on weightloss, and twenty seven reality shows.

The good news, however, is that I've spent less time on the computer.

Why is it so easy to over indulge? (A phrase, by the way, I learned from one of those commercials!) I'm not sure I understand why I don't find myself wanting to make my bed over and over...yet I'm willing to sit and watch an NCIS marathon even though I've seen every episode at least twice already!

My husband has a similar problem. The man can do all kinds of mathematical functions and figurings. He measures things and counts things. Multiplies and divides. Until he gets to the grocery store and faces his own Kryptonite. A "five items for $5" sale.

He's come home with sixty seven boxes of spaghetti, three boxes of cereal that no one eats, twenty two boxes of sandwich baggies and yet still can't remember to get the milk I asked for in the first place!

"You know," I say to him, "You don't HAVE to buy five to get the sale price on one item."

"It was a good deal!" he'll respond. We ate pasta for fifty two days straight. The cereal is still sitting in the pantry. The good news there? It's all been separated into individual baggies.

My friends, I propose that this week will be different. I am going to watch less television, make my bed once a day, and send my teenagers to the grocery store.

After all, they know what kind of cereal I like!

I encourage you to consider the things that you're over indulging on in your life and how you might live with less.

Thanks for reading!

The Nature of Things

Look, I'll be honest. When it comes to nature, I love it. I enjoy being out in it...seeing it's beauty. Smelling the flowers, feeling the warm air.

I'm all for it.

But...and this is a big BUT...

the bugs need to stay outside. You know, where nature is.

That's my rule. If I find one of you critters in my house...well, I can't say for sure that you will live to see the next showing of Ants on HBO.

A couple of days ago, however, I realized that I needed to amend my rule. Add on to it. Make sure that the bugs understand exactly what I'm talking about when I say, "MY HOUSE".

Goes a little something like this:

The party of the first part (that being me) informs the party of the second part (that being bugs) that when the term 'house' or 'home' is mentioned by the party of the first part, she is, in fact, stating the entire property...inside and out. Please make a note of this. Thank you.
A couple of days ago, I noticed these flying insects (about 20 or so of them) hovering low to the ground. They reminded me of bees at first...but I couldn't get a really good look at them. They were in the area where the dogs go out to 'do their business'. I wondered if perhaps they were flies (because of the 'area' in which they were flying around)...but as I said, I couldn't get them to sit still long enough to get a good look at them. I stuck to my thought of bees (or perhaps hornets?) and was concerned that there might be a hive under our deck.

I've seen horrible pictures of these huge ol' hives in bbq grills and yes, under decks. I didn't want my deck to be the next forwarded email sensation.

In a fit of bravado, later in the day, I went outside and didn't see them. I wondered about the hive again and stomped the whole area of the deck...ready to run into the house as soon as I needed to...nothing happened.

The next day...there they were...same bat time...same bat channel. They didn't seem to be bothering the dogs and were, as I mentioned, just kinda flying around low and hovering.

I told my husband about them. After all, bugs are in his job description. I handle the laundry...he takes care of the creepy crawlies. He suggested that perhaps they were ground wasps. I googled ground wasps and found out some info on the web about them.

1) Also called 'cicada killers'. (which sounds very dramatic to me! A movie title of a grand sort! Can't you hear that 'movie guy' doing the trailer for it?)

2) Very practical insects. They help the environment and all. (Yeah, okay...but they still have stingers, right?)

3) Info on the potential nest. A small round hole in the ground. With some dirt kicked up around the area.

Hm...very interesting. While I didn't see any pictures 'exactly' like my bug...I did see enough similarities to think that perhaps this was what we had 'moving in'.

Sunday came and my daughter and I spied them after returning home from church. She stepped on two of them in 'mid-hover' and killed them. Thus supplying us with a closer look. Yeah, they kinda do look like ground wasps.

So...I told Steve that we needed to find the nest and get rid of them. I didn't want the kids or the dogs to be stung by one. Wasps don't play around when they sting. And, unlike their 'cousin' the bee...don't have the decency to die after they sting you. No...they just keep on doing it.

That's when I realized I needed the amendment, you see. After all, I make the house payments on this property. And until I see some cash on my doorstep from those 'cicada killers'...well, they need to re-locate.

Steve poured gasoline into the hole he found yesterday. Stuck a rag in there.

Now we wait and see if that did the trick.

We'll show you who's in control!!

Yep. Feeling pretty large and in charge...that's me. When you google me, you'll find "QUEEN KILLER OF THE CICADA KILLERS!!"

(well, actually it was technically Steve. And Hannah killed two...but hey! Who's writing this??)

I love feeling like I'm in control. It's powerful. It's giddy at times, isn't it? That feeling of 'nothing can stop me!' Not a hovering little wasp-y thing that helps the environment but has tragically picked a bad place to raise a family...not ANYTHING!! (Now I hear the Rocky theme playing in my head...)

Well, this morning I went for a walk up Catfishhead Road. (That's what we named the road. It's a long story...maybe for another time.) It's a little access road that runs next to our defunct railroad tracks.

Well, it was foggy this morning. And very dewy.

As I walked, I noticed in the tall grass there between the road and the railroad tracks...spider webs.

Hundreds of them! I mean, I know that there are a lot of spiders out there...but wow! I had no idea that many of them were lurking in the fields!!!

Just garden spiders. Nothing dangerous. In fact, I think that as spiders go, they're very pretty to see. I just wasn't prepared for a party that size!!

And it was about halfway down the road that I realized something.

I really have very little control over things. I mean, I may be able to kill out one gaggle (hoard, herd, family?) of wasps...but that's about it.

It's humbling. And a little scary. Isn't it?

I mean, I don't know about you, my friend...but I don't always enjoy the feeling of NOT being in control.

The good news is: I know that Someone Else has things well under control.

I find that comforting. Hope you do too!

Thanks for reading!

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!!

Right now I'm listening to a current popular tune that I think would make an excellent roller skating rink song.

I wonder if anyone else has considered this? I could mention it to my daughter, but she'd just roll her 15 year old eyes at me and mumble something about how she needs to get my application filled out for the nursing home. She hates it when I bring up 70's-80's music.

Ah well. She'll appreciate me someday, right?

I was five years old the first time I put on a pair of roller skates. It was my birthday. They were the kind that you strapped to your shoes. I remember the feeling of exhilarated terror I felt as I careened around our kitchen, leaving deep nail marks in the countertop.

I really liked skating. My family would travel to Hoopeston frequently to skate at a rink there. I loved the music, the light show, the wooden floor. I remember thinking that when I grew up, I wanted to be one of the 'skating guards'...those teenagers with their whistles and their backwards skating ability. I remember how weird it felt to take off my skates at the end of the evening. That 'lighter than air' way your foot felt. Totally weird.

In junior high, the skating rink in Paxton became the place to go on the weekend for me. I put my big ol' comb in the back pocket of my white painter pants (they were SO COOL looking under the black light!) and I would feather my hair and carefully consider the boys there. Who might be a partner for the "Couples Only" skate? The Eagles or the Bay City Rollers would come over the speakers and we would skate around and around and check out who was making out in the Corner (it was never me!) and I was always surprised when it was time to go home.

Of course, once I had my driver's license, I didn't want to go skating much. And anyway, I think the rink was closed by then, so it didn't really matter.

After I had children, they received passes for the local skating rink. I remember putting on skates again for the first time in years and reacquainting myself with the wheels. It wasn't much different from when I was five...except now the nail marks were in the wall of the rink or the shoulder of a skating guard as I desperately attempted to stay upright.

'It was easier to skate when I was younger,' I remember thinking. 'This is risky business. I could break my wrist or something!'

I think we could all find something that was 'easier' when we were younger. I guess my question to you is: How are you handling the 'risky business' in your life? In most cases, age brings wisdom and there are things that I wouldn't do now that I'm older if you paid me cash money...just because they're too dangerous. Too risky.

However, there's that other side of risk. The safe side. And that, my friends, can be crippling. It can keep you from trying new things. Or trying old things. Like roller skating.

Take my advice. Grab that big ol' comb of yours, put on that old Bay City Roller album and take a risk today! Speaking of albums, I wonder if I can get my daughter to download some disco for me! Now that's risky!!

Truth be Told...

So...last week or so I started a small group study on this book Truefaced, which is about being real with people. And at about that same time I went to youth group with my kiddos and played Balderdash, which is all about lying to people.

As The Doors said so aptly, people are strange...aren't we?

On the one hand, we want people to accept us for who we are...warts (if you've got 'em...I don't!) and all. And on the other, we're always lying about something...(for instance, not having warts.)

Oh, you disagree? You're not a liar? You tell the truth all the time?

Well, I don't. I freely admit it. I find myself lying constantly...

To my son:

"Why no, Jake. There are no onions in that casserole. Now eat!" (it was an ONION CASSEROLE!!)

To my best friend:

"Your new haircut does not make your butt look big!" (sadly, she'd have a big butt regardless!)

To the girl scout:

"I've already bought two boxes of thin mints. Sorry!" (it was actually 7 boxes. And they were the peanut butter ones that I can never remember the name of...!)

We humans lie.

And one of the first lies we tell ourselves is this: Lying will 'fix' the situation.

Lying doesn't fix anything...in the long run. It has a tendency to complicate things, actually. But it's 'easier' to lie than to be honest sometimes. Isn't it?

"Who broke this vase?" "Not me! It was an alien..."

Kids can tell whoppers of lies, can't they? And why? To avoid getting into trouble, to avoid work, to avoid conflict.

I am a girl. And since girls are typically encouraged by society to avoid conflict, we are taught to do what? Lie.

We girls are taught to be 'kind' to people, aren't we? So we lie and say things to others in order 'to be nice'.

"That shirt looks good on you." "It's not you, it's me." "Your invitation must've been lost in the mail." "No, your feet aren't big. Size 13 is the new 6."


I'm going to cut in here and present the word "Tact" to you. Now tact is what we REALLY need to be taught. Boys and girls alike. And tact isn't about lying...or telling the truth. Tact is about timing.

A definition of tact is this: a keen sense of what to say or do to avoid giving offense; skill in dealing with difficult or delicate situations.

My tactful word is "interesting".

"Mmm...this liver pate' you've made for the first time has an interesting flavor."

"Interesting" is what I use when I am not sure that the truth is wanted by the other person or when I don't want to tell the truth and hurt someone 'at that moment'.

It's not lying. It's not truth. It's...well...avoidance.

For instance...the last thing a bride needs to hear on her wedding day is that white is NOT a good color on her.

Is it going to benefit her at all on that day to tell her that? No. The fact that she looks bad in white should've been pointed out months ago.

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes, conflict is a good thing to avoid. So tact comes into play.

However, tact is NOT supposed to replace truth. As I mentioned, the bride could've been told the truth earlier.

So is truth about timing, then?

Um...no.

Truth is about relationship...and we'll talk more about that later. Think about truth and lies, won't you? Right now, I have to um...do something else. This has been interesting...thanks for reading!

A Family Divided (by four)

Growing up, we went to the county fair every summer.

I loved it! There were rides, and food. Games, and food. Prizes, and food.

Mmmm. Fair food. I don't know about you, but despite my begging, I could not convince my Mom to make me funnel cakes for breakfast. It just wasn't happening!

And it just wasn't FAIR!

Speaking of that, I feel we've been friends long enough now that I'd like to share something with you. There's a battle going on at our house.

And I, for one, am ready to tear the white pillowcase off of my bed and wave it on a broom handle in surrender.

I cannot do this anymore, you see. It's worn me to a frazzle over the past 13 years and I simply don't have the strength or the math skills, to be honest. I'm tired.

What's the problem, you ask?

There are four people in my home. Four folks who eat together each day. And...each day I have to make sure that the amount of food I cook is divisible by four. You know, so that everyone gets the same amount.

I count olives...and pork steaks...and lettuce leaves. I count brats, and pizza slices, and tacos. Thankfully, no one's questioned my peas or corn distribution! However, just to be on the safe side, I don't purchase raisins or Oreos. It's just too painful!

Do you do this in your home? I am sure I am not alone on this. And I don't really understand why it's such as isssue, as my children are constantly told over and over again that Life Is Not Fair.

I was constantly told that Life Is Not Fair while growing up.

Were you told this? How do you handle it? Because I try, I really try...to make things fair. But the fact of the matter is: hot dogs come in packages of 10, hot dog buns come in packages of 8. The odds are stacked against me. I'm not always going to be able to divide by 4. I cannot guarantee that fairness is always an option.

So what do you do when you feel you've been unfairly treated? When you've been shorted a hot dog bun? Do you get angry? Do you feel sorry for yourself? It's difficult, isn't it, when it appears that everyone else has things going for them and we don't. It's not fair that I work as hard as her and she's promoted. It's not fair that my neighbor has a new car and I still drive this old one. It's not fair that he's well and I'm sick.

My friends, the only consolation I can offer is this: there is ONE fair thing going on in this world. We all experience 'unfairness' in our lives. WE ALL EXPERIENCE IT.

There isn't one person around that hasn't felt they've been unfairly treated at least once or twice or twenty bajillion times. That's the good news. The tricky thing is trying to remember that the next time we want a hot dog...or a funnel cake for breakfast.

Think about that the next time you find yourself faced with 10 brats for 4 people. Who packaged these things?? Thanks for reading!

A Limited Understanding

This is not the first time it's happened.

And what frustrates me the most about it, is that it happens at the WORST possible time!

The other day, I had a smarillion things to do. And like most people, I was trying to save myself some time and go a little over the speed limit.

Okay, maybe a lot over the speed limit.

However, it wasn't long before I found myself "stuck" behind someone who was actually obeying the law and not speeding.

"COME ON!" I threw my head back and wailed, "I HAVE PLACES TO SEE AND PEOPLE TO GO!"

This 'people' wasn't 'going', though. At least not over 55 miles an hour.

"AUGH!" I groaned. It felt as if my van had just stopped in the middle of the road. Like there had been some sort of Star Trek time/space continuum thing...and I was frozen on Ridge Road. Unable to move ahead. 'Quick, Scotty,' I thought, 'Beam me up and over this slowpoke so I can get to where I have to be!'

Finally, after seventeen years, three months, two weeks, nine days, fourteen hours, twenty-two minutes and five seconds...I was able to pass this person safely.

As I drive by, this gal smiles at me and waves.

I do not wave back. She is oblivious to the torment that she has caused me. I have a lot to do! Doesn't she understand that there are only 24 hours in the day and I've already used up EIGHT of them! The items on my To Do list are barely checked off! I'm behind schedule! I don't have time to wave! Besides, my cell phone is ringing...!

What a day that was! I was frazzled that entire time. Trying to get things checked off, adding more things to the list, pushing myself to do more.

But someone was trying to tell me something that day...

As I passed that gal on the highway, I saw a speed limit sign fly by.

At the grocery store, I was going to stock up on shredded Cheddar Cheese and grabbed five packages. Then I saw the "Limit Three per Customer" sign and had to put two packages back.

At the mall, The Limited was having a sale. On tanks, not cheese.

Later, while watching t.v., I saw that a cable channel was running an Outer Limits marathon. Then a commercial came on and told me that I could buy this amazing item that was being offered at this amazing price 'for a limited time only'.

And finally, when I was breaking up yet another argument between my children over whose turn it was to be on the Playstation, I heard myself saying, "That's it! I have reached my limit! I'm tired of the arguing! Now give me the guitar and I'LL be the Hero!"

And that's when it hit me.

I have limitations. Limits.

The word 'limit' is often looked at as a 'bad' thing. We want to buy more, drive faster, spend fifteen hours on the Playstation wailing on that Aerosmith song.

Okay, maybe only I do those things. What I'm realizing though, is that limits aren't bad. They can actually be very healthy. We can't do it all. We need to have boundaries. Too much of a good thing is indeed, too much! Setting boundaries on our time, money and items is not a bad thing! By staying within a boundary, for instance, I still get what I need. I get enough. Not too much.

Think about that, my friends, while I set my timer for fifteen minutes of Guitar Hero. That's my new limit! Thanks for reading!

Go Ahead....make my day...

I approached the customer service desk with some trepidation.

Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. And because you're my friends, I'm going to tell you the truth and admit something about myself.

I don't like dealing with customer service desks. I really don't. I mean, nine times out of ten I don't have the right receipt (it was the one I accidentally stuck my chewed gum into), or the item I want to return cannot possibly ever be returned (on a particular 'bad Mommy' day, I spent 27 minutes trying to get the gal at Best Mart to take my temper tantrum throwing three year old off my hands), or there's no one actually at the customer service desk (seriously, it was like a ghost town! I think, at one point, I even saw a tumbleweed go by!).

At any rate, those are the reasons I generally dread going to the desk. However, today I was going to try something different. Because, you see, it's my understanding that insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results. So today...I'd try something new. I formulated a plan. It wasn't very complicated. It was a simple, easy to do plan. This time, as I approached the desk, I was going to do something I hadn't done before.

I was going to smile.

That was my plan. A big ol' grin.

So, as I was saying, I slowly approached the desk, smiling. The gal behind the counter was taking care of a customer when another person stepped up to her and demanded attention from the clerk. She (the clerk) was amazing! She smiled and said in a friendly voice, "I'll be right with you. I'm taking care of this customer right now."

Well, the other gal was having none of that, and continued speaking...at which point the customer service clerk politely asked the other customer to wait a moment and handled the 'squeaky wheel'. She got her out of there quickly and took care of the first customer. I patiently waited. (After all, I was just relieved that there WAS actually someone behind the counter.) And I still smiled.

As the first customer moved away and I stepped forward, the gal behind the desk began muttering as she tidied up her area. It sounded a little like this:

"Tell me that you need--garbled mumbling--mezzarazza something--why don't you--something something--growling--that's the last time I--ragafraggle--"

She saw me standing there at the counter then.

"Oh," she said mechanically, "Welcome to Best Mart. How can I help you?"

My jaw beginning to ache a little from the smile, I say, "Well, you see-" and I hand her the receipt that I managed to keep my chewing gum out of this time.

"Can you believe some people?" she says, interrupting. "I mean, what do they expect? Am I just supposed to drop everything for them? Just create stuff out of thin air for them? It's like, you know, they want me to wave some sort of magic wand and POOF! There's their stuff! I mean, what has happened to common courtesy, I ask you?"

"Well, I - " I began, my smile faltering a little. Just then the store phone rang.

"Excuse me." she said. And she answered the phone. And I continued to wait...patiently. I found myself pushing up at the corners of my mouth a bit. It looked less like a smile and more like I had a severe denture issue.

Still, I attempted the grin. And marveled as I watched the clerk manage to talk on the phone and take my item at the same time. With ruthless efficiency I see her print out a new receipt, staple one to the other, ask me to sign on the dotted line, and hand me back my cash while hanging up the phone.

Without missing a beat, she continues our conversation.

"People just don't know how to treat people nicely anymore. I don't understand it. It's like there ought to be a class on courtesy! But you know what? I'll bet no one would show up!"

I stand there, receipt in hand, slightly smiling. I look down at my purse on the counter.

"Well, thank you!" I manage to say, taking two steps back.

"SEE? No one says that anymore! Thank you! You made my day!" she says. "And go Cards!"

"What?" I ask, confused. And then I look down and see that I'm wearing my Cardinals tee shirt.

"Yes," I respond weakly. "Go Cards! Well, you have a good day."

"You too! Thanks for being such a great customer!"

As I sat in the car, I pondered over what had just occurred. I hadn't done anything truly remarkable. All I had done was smile.

And I think that smile made a difference.

My friends, consider smiling at just one person today. Just one. See what happens. You might make someone's day!