I can't get no...or can I?

Satisfaction.

I can't seem to get any of it. And like the Stones so aptly sang, "...I'm on a losing streak."

I CAN'T GET NO.....NO NO NO!!!!!
At least it feels that way.

There is so much on my mind right now. Money, cars, kids, money, illnesses, jobs, money, government, church, money...the list goes on. Feel free to insert your own stuff in there.

My brain is full. There's a lot of hurt out there. And inside myself. It can be overwhelming. Lately, it seems that nothing I'm doing makes much of a difference. I feel I have very little control...and mostly what I'm left with is this deep feeling of dis-satisfaction.

Both with myself and others. With life in general.

So what do you do with that?
What did I do with that?
I'll tell you....

I went where I always go when I want questions answered.

Wikipedia?

Nope. Although I venture there repeatedly...

A therapist?

Huh uh. Not that there's anything wrong with them...

I went to my magic 8 ball. Yeah, that's right. I went to my magic 8 ball and I asked, "Will I ever be satisfied?"

And I shook it....turned it over....looked...

and it said, "It is decidedly so."
Cool, I thought. Excellent.

But...seven and 1/2 minutes passed and I did NOT feel decidedly satisfied. Stupid, cheapo 8 ball isn't that magic at all...I'm not sure I trust that information.

So I went to my other source.

My Bible.

We've been studying the book of Matthew at church recently. So I went there first. And this is what I read in my sidenotes of Matthew 5:

"Jesus promises that satisfaction will come to those who seek the good things of God. He says that they will be filled - not with the material goods of this world, not with an easy way of life, not with something of limited value that can be taken away from them...but with the joy and contentment that comes from doing God's will."

Matthew 5:6 says: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Hmmm....I think about what God's will is...what that looks like for me right this minute...I mull that over in my head...then turned to another section in my Bible. I have a devotional Bible that I have been reading in lately. And when I turned to Wednesday's (todays) reading, I read this:

"What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

I raise an eyebrow. If you do not believe that God can speak to you with His Word...then you are missing out on a wonderful conversational opportunity.

Have I been humble lately? No, not really. If I had, I don't think my dis-satisfaction would be so evident. I obviously feel that I am somehow 'DUE' to have these things I want so badly...and even if they aren't 'bad' things...they are still things that I'm trying to control somehow...in all my 'human greatness'.

Woo.Hoo. Like I can somehow Do God's Job.

I can't do that. I cannot do God's job for Him.

But....

I can do His Will...I can act justly, and walk humbly...and love.

Three things that cover the Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule...and the Sermon on the Mount.

Wow.

And what do you think will happen then? Will I find that satisfaction?

It is decidedly so...

and God told me that. Not the 8 ball! :)

I'm praying that you will find Satisfaction in Him today...

The Dog Arguer?

Well, it's Monday morning. I'm checking out my to do list for the day. And I'm arguing with my dog. Kinda looks a little like this:

Speedy: I want a chewie.

Me: You cannot have one.

Speedy: I want a chewie.

Me: It isn't happening, dog.

Speedy: I want a chewie.

Me: Go.Away.

Speedy: I want a chewie.
(I stare at him for a long moment. You can literally hear the Western showdown music playing. My eyes squint. He cocks his head to the side and uses his 'cute face'. I square my jaw. He wags his tail. And I say...in my best Clint Eastwood voice:)

Me: Eat the breakfast that's in your bowl, punk. And maybe, if you're good, I'll give you a chewie later.
(Speedy stares at me for a second or two. And then begins to eat his breakfast.)
Me: Good dog.

I tell you, my friends...that there are days when I am beggin' for my chewie at breakfast. I haven't done anyhing to earn the chewie. I haven't done anything to NOT earn a chewie. I just want it. And I want it now!

Waiting is awful, isn't it? Friday night my daughter and I went to the movies. And
there was a line to get in. Apparently, this particular theatre has only 2 people working on tickets on a Friday night...and what's worse...I was told that the movie began at 7:30 p.m....but the sign at the theatre said 7:10 p.m. It was 7:20 p.m. I HATE BEING LATE FOR MOVIES!! So I feel myself start to panic a little inside. "Let's go, people...let's go!" I say under my breath. Finally, after what feels like 4,000 hours...we get our tickets and go. And the movie hadn't started yet. I'd been anxious. And it was a waste of my time.

Was Speedy anxious, I wonder? I should ask him. You see, the kids and my hubby think it's funny that I talk to the dog. And he talks back. We converse. We share ideas and opinions. We contemplate the stars and the subtle differences between vanilla ice cream and french vanilla ice cream. But mainly, seriously, really....we argue about the chewie.

Yeah, that's pretty much it. And when I give him a chewie...do I get a thank you? Rarely. Sometimes, for fun...I ask for the chewie back.

That doesn't go over well. Suddenly, mild mannered Speedy turns into Savage Beast of a DOG Speedy! RAWWWR! It's a little scary.

My friends, the sobering thought here is: sometimes Speedy and I have a lot more in common than sharing the same address and fondness for ice cream. I don't want to wait. I want my chewie RIGHT NOW! And if/when I get the chewie...I can almost guarantee that I am not eagerly interested in giving it back.

And sadly, sometimes I do not say thanks.

Waiting is hard. Working is hard. Being denied your chewie on your time is not easy.

Are you tired of arguing? Can you be satisfied just eating your breakfast for a little while longer?

Oh, and here's another thing to remember: I love Speedy. I love him with a passion sometimes. And there are times when I want to just get up and give him the chewie. And there are moments when he gets two...just for fun.

I think he knows that. I should ask him.

There is Someone, my friends...that doesn't want to argue with you. He wants to spend time with you. And He cares deeply for you.
His chewies...by the way...are well worth the wait.

SPEEDY! STOP BARKING AT ME! I'm trying to blog here! Oh, for the love of...I gotta go! Have a great day!

Maybe Mrs. Tuggle was right...

Help me out here people. How can folks run in -44 below temperatures? I could, I guess, if I were running towards say, a warm, inviting Taco Bell....or perhaps just running to my car to get out of the cold.

How do they do it? It boggles my mind. I can come up with 465,093,123 reasons not to do that. Not to run in this weather.

Who am I kidding? I don't run. Ever.

You see, I've never been very interested in exercise.

Yeah, I can hear you gasping in surprise. Take it easy on the sarcasm, okay? Knock it off.

Even as a baby, I didn't really exert myself. Wasn't one of those amazing kids that you see walking around at 3 1/2 months. Nope. I preferred to take it easy. Maybe drag myself along if I had no other option. Used my baby cuteness to get myself picked up and carried around. Did that until I was twelve. Yeah. Seriously.

There's the reason my name is what it is. I am supposed to be carried!

Sure, C. Whatever helps you to get to sleep at night. Aren't you a little big to be carried now? You know, if you would do a little exercise...like maybe, oh I don't know....run?

Seriously, I said knock it off.

Anyways, like I mentioned, exercise and me...we don't get along. The exercises that I actually do somewhat enjoy (like swimming) aren't possible right now due to money mostly. I just don't have the cash available to join the Y or whatever. And yeah, I know that sounds a lot like an excuse. But I don't care. And you know what? Chalupas are cheaper...

But...thanks to dictionary.com, I now know why I don't get along with physical exertion.

It's training. It's putting forth strength. It's effort. It's practice. It's...

It's sweaty, y'all. And tiring. And requires a good deal of discipline to be really effective in the long term.

Discipline. Oooooh. There's a word for you! I looked up "discipline" in my Webster's Dictionary and found this:

Discipline - (noun) PUNISHMENT.

Ah...dictionary.com must be written by someone who exercises...because it lists 'punishment' as the number 3 definition!

PUNISHMENT.

Not a good word. Look it up and you find "Suffering, pain, penalty, p.e. class".

Okay. So I lied. You won't find "p.e. class" there. But you will find a picture of Mrs. Tuggle, my jr. high gym teacher.

It's not pretty.

Punishment, I mean. Not Mrs. Tuggle. Although I have to admit that the woman was not the cutest banana in the bunch.

See, my problem is...I don't like pain. I don't enjoy suffering. I'm not that into p.e. class. In fact, p.e. class felt kinda like being on a chain gang.

And who wants to do that? Who volunteers for the chain gang?

No one.

But here's the kicker. I need discipline. I need training. I need to do push ups because that which doesn't kill me...makes me stronger, right?

Push ups kill me. Even the thought of push ups makes me light-headed and a bit freaked out.

I think one of my problems with this is perfectionism. I think I have to be just like that gal who's been running for 40 years and has a negative body mass index number. The gal that's running in -40 below temps. And smiling.

I blame an absence of oxygen for the grin. I do. Unless she's running say, to a Taco Bell...

So what does discipline take?

Small, little, wee steps. Baby steps. And it takes time. You have to do it every day. Every day. Small steps every day. For 40 years.

It seems a little daunting.

Daunting, by the way, is defined as dismay.

And...unfortunately, that's what I feel when I think of exercise. Not anticipation. Not enthusiasm.

Dismay.

Like I'm missing out on something better by taking the time to exercise.

Do you ever feel that way about something that disciplines you? Like budgeting, or smaller food portions...or waiting to purchase that big screen t.v.?

We don't like to wait. We don't want to hear that things take time. I mean, my perfectionism tells me that I should be able to have that body type NOW. With little effort or time.

Seriously?

I know. It's dumb, isn't it? But I know I'm not the only one that struggles with those sorts of thoughts.

We get overwhelmed by the task ahead, don't we? So we choose to not do it...or put it off. Thinking what? That somehow, down the road, the Chalupas we ate at Taco Bell will just melt off on their own?

My friends, I encourage you to take one small step towards a discipline today. I will. And you know what?

I will try not to focus on the sweat too much...sheesh...where's Mrs. Tuggle when you need her??

Death of a Toaster

It's a new year. A new month. There is a glorious, wonderful expectant feeling in the air.

THIS YEAR...THINGS ARE GOING TO BE DIFFERENT!

And boy howdy...that, my friends...is true. I'm not pyschic...but I know that I can say that sentence above with confidence. You, regardless of age, race, religion, gender, education, experience, dog person, cat person...

Your year, my friend...THIS YEAR...THINGS ARE GOING TO BE DIFFERENT.

Write it on your calendar. Stencil it on your wall in your kitchen. Make it a scrolling marquee on your computer screen saver. Scrapbook it. Whatever.

It's a fact.

The question is not...will this year be different? The question is: How will I handle the changes?

It was October, 1986. I was a freshman in college at Millikin that fall. Talk about change! I had a 'new home' in a dorm room, a 'new roommate' from the Chicago area that I was still trying to get to know, new classes, new teachers (oh, wait...they're PROFESSORS now!), new friends were being made. That fall EVERYTHING was new! Everything was different. It was a little overwhelming...but I was really trying to see the positive side of things.

And then my Grandma Sybil died. Suddenly.

Something different. Something new. Something unexpected.

I went home for the funeral. I thought I was handling things pretty well. I mean, as well as one handles the death of a grandparent. I read her last letter to me several times. I remembered the wonderful times we'd had at her house as kids. All 'typical' or 'classic' mourning stuff.

Then my Dad called to tell me that they were cleaning out Grandma's apartment and was there anything I wanted furniture wise?

Yes! Yes there was! Two things. A round table(George Washington style, I think...is what Antiques Roadshow calls it) and her toaster.

Her magic toaster.

As a child, staying overnight at Grandma Sybil's was just about the best thing in the world. She made us milkshakes...and played Pollyanna with us...and Seven Up...and made us watch Lawrence Welk.

It was a blast! And mornings were amazing! Because of the magic toaster!

This toaster was different from every other toaster I'd seen in my seven years of life. This toaster DIDN'T HAVE A BUTTON! There was no button to push down! You set a piece of bread into the slot...and it sank gracefully, noiselessly down...out of sight...and then, as you waited in anticipation...toast would slowly appear...rising out of the heat of the machine silently. No dinging sound...no jumpy toast. Just....magic toast.

Excellent with some Skippy peanut butter and a glass of milk.

So I got that table and toaster. And for 22 wonderful years...I've been watching toast rise out of that machine...and I have to say:

I still think of it as a magic toaster! It, to this day, still causes me to behave in a somewhat childlike fashion. I'll actually stand there and watch the bread sink down...and wait....and watch toast rise up!

Well, I did. Until Christmas Eve. That's when I...killed the toaster.

I guess, looking back, I should be glad that it wasn't a bigger fire and all. I lit a pastry thing on fire in the toaster...and now it doesn't work anymore.

I know. It's a stinkin' toaster, Carrie. GET OVER IT!

Here's the thing: the past couple of weeks, I've been really down about it. And I think it's because of a couple of things. One, I'm struggling with the fact that I'm missing my toaster...and two: part of me has felt that by having the toaster work...having it 'be alive' so to speak...that Grandma was still 'alive'. I mean, I know she's not...perhaps I'm not explaining that well.

So what have I learned? I am grieving all over again. Mourning. Because it's different in my kitchen now. I have a different toaster. And while I fully appreciate it for what it is...it isn't magic. Something's missing.

Acceptance is hard. And just yesterday, I talked to someone who thinks that maybe...they can fix the old toaster.

But you know what? Part of me doesn't want that. Part of me thinks that it's TIME for a change. That I need to have a new toaster now. I'm old enough to handle it.

I am keeping the Magic Toaster. It's on top of my kitchen cabinet with some other antiques. It is...a part of me. Even if it is a simple kitchen appliance.

I'm sure most of us have things like my toaster around us.

Change is hard. Different isn't always a good thing.

But attitude, my friends...attitude is everything. I know, for a fact, that Magic Toaster or not...I am still the same goofy gal I've been.

Wait, maybe I'm not. Maybe I AM different! In fact, by losing my toaster...I understand loss better. So my loss might help me to understand your loss.

If the things in our lives didn't experience change...we wouldn't grow.

That's what makes toasters amazing in the first place! They change bread, right??!!

Time to eat some breakfast. Let me know what's different in your 2009...

That's why it's called a PRESENT!

I want to talk this morning about your holiday spending.

Not your money. In fact, if your money sitch is anything at all like mine, you probably don't have much to spend.

I want to talk about a different kind of spending...the 24/7 kind.

Yeah, that's right. The hours in your day. Your.Time.

Why?

Cuz it's about time!...(guffaws and slaps knee)

Okay...(sighs), here's the deal. At Christmastime, I go into countdown mode. Now, I'm not sure if it comes from the Peppermint Candy Advent Calendars that I ate candy from daily as a child or if it's the day limits on sales (Thurs, Fri., and Sat at Kohl's!), or simply because it's the last month of the year...but I'm very aware in December of how little/much time I have.

See, I have time problems. I can hyper-focus on one thing and spend hours messing with it (like computer time...or rearranging my record albums as a teen, or reading an entire book in a day)...or I can become easily distracted by other projects as I try to focus on one....so that nothing really gets accomplished.

To help keep me 'in the here and now' I use a timer. The timer comes in handy. If I get easily distracted and want to 'move on' to something else, I have to wait until the timer goes off. If, on the other hand, I am deeply engrossed in something...the timer goes off and reminds me to move on to the next thing now.

My focus is improving. I'm finding myself staying in the moment. Which is good, because I also have a problem with procrastination.

But we're not gonna deal with that problem right this minute. :)

There's another timing issue that I also deal with on a regular basis. I float easily from the past to the future to the past again and suddenly the whole day is gone!

I thought I was the only one, but as I watched A Christmas Carol the other night, I realized (like Scrooge did), how important it is for us to spend our time mostly in the present.

We cannot change the past. What happened has happened. And regardless of whether you're focusing on good times or bad; you cannot spend too much of your precious time in the past.

Scrooge also got an eye-opener of a future. But it was only one possibility. And so often we too can 'stare' at one possibility of the future and fret and worry and lament about it when it's not even happened! Again, you should consider the possibilities of how your future might be...set goals, etc., but you cannot spend all your time there either!

In the book, after the last Spirit (of Christmas Future) has gone, Scrooge says this:

"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Scrooge. "I don't know how long I have been among the Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. Never mind. I don't care..."


Scrooge found out how much time he'd 'wasted', and also how much time he had left! He found out that he didn't know much about time at all.

Most importantly, he found out that it was the day he'd been given that had all the opportunity in it! He could 'fix' the past by dealing with the present day...and he could 'change' the future the same way!! How? By making choices on Christmas Day.

You really only have this day. How are you going to spend the next 24 hours?

Set your timer and change your past and your future today! Perhaps you need to apologize to someone, and you've been putting it off. Perhaps there's a habit you need to stop...because it could hurt your future.

Christmas is the time of year when it seems we can easily overload ourselves with projects and get togethers and suddenly our schedules are all messed up with Christmas breaks and snow days and shopping sprees and parties and...well, you get the picture. We can find ourselves whining, "I don't have time for that!"

But here's the funny part: we all have the same amount of time in the day...

We didn't start the fire

Rankin: circa 1977.

I thought I smelled something 'unusual' that fateful day. Something like roasting hot dogs. Or leaves burning...

But...I didn't think too much about it at that time. After all, I was like, 9 years old. My sister and I had other things to do that day. So we continued with our playing...and I forgot about the smell.

Until later that night...

BUM BUM BUMMMMMMMM!

More about that in a minute.

Flash forward to present day: You wanna know something? My husband is quite the firestarter. He fancies himself after Charles Ingalls, I think. He could probably win on Survivor, I swear! Because when he builds a fire...it's big. It's hot. And it will not go out.

Unlike the namby-pamby fires I'm liable to try and build in the fireplace. I just don't seem to have the knack for it. I have to constantly feed my fire. Move the logs around. Keep the flame glowing. Sometimes I get really frustrated. In fact, I am so lousy at building a fire, that once I just threw in the towel.

AND BOY HOWDY!!! THAT THING BURNED FOR THREE DAYS!

(well...it WAS a beach towel, after all.)

Back to Rankin.

I was in bed. And awakened to the sound of banging on our front door. There were some guys driving past our house in the country who noticed something a 'little unusual'. So they stopped to tell us about it.

It was our barn. Our huge ol' barn where Dad kept a bunch of his farming equipment and boat and other items...was on fire!


It was amazing! It was (actually!) a blazing! We had fire departments from all sorts of towns and surrounding counties working on putting that inferno out. And while no one was seriously injured...one fireman was actually blown out of his boots when the gas tank exploded.

And that...that was quite a sight to see...

They're still not exactly sure what started the fire. Some speculation was on the old hay in the hay mow. That it oxidized or spontaneously combusted or something.

I didn't care. What I knew was that our barn was gone. Our boat was gone. And things on the farm would never look or be quite the same...

Flash forward back to present day: Steve brought home three truckloads of wood the other day. You see, they're building a Walgreen's in Mahomet, and cleared out a bunch of brush and trees...and let Steve take as much of the wood as he wanted. Nice.

We use our fireplace quite a bit in the winter. We are trying to save some energy money that way. Our furnace is not the most economical item in our home, we know...plus, we like the looks of the crackling fire in the fireplace on a chilly evening.

And the smell of S'mores. Yummmmmm.

Our fireplace helps keep us warm and cozy. It's a good fire to have around.


The barn fire, on the other hand, only destroyed. It didn't seem to care about us or our things.

Fire....is dangerous.

(well there's a completely Captain Obvious moment for you! Go ahead, I'll say it with you: DUH, C!!)

Fire is dangerous because it causes change.

A boat that was there, in the barn one day...became, in a matter of minutes...nothing but a chunk of metal. And a small chunk at that.

A fireplace fire warmed cold feet, dried out damp gloves...and gave us a roasted marshmallow to eat.

Fires can feed us...or feed upon us.

What's your fire look like, my friends? Are you on fire for something? Is there a passionate flame burning inside you for a purpose?

"A light shines in the darkness...but the darkness has not understood it..."

My obsession confession

I can become obsessed and single-minded at times...focused on one thing...and I occasionally have to fight this overpowering urge of focus...of obsession...this need...this incredible desire.

It's difficult for me to control...and I haven't really found a support group that can help me out. I've dealt with this problem since I was little...I mean, really young...

it's...it's hard for me to think about...but I can assure you that I don't ever intend to quit!

Still, I feel I need to talk to you...if for no other reason than to perhaps understand myself better.

My obsession is this:

jigsaw puzzles

Yeah, you read that right. Jigsaw puzzles. Just typing those two words makes me a little giddy...a little light-headed...whoa.


I.love.jigsaw.puzzles.

I do. I began putting the pieces into place at an early age and the staying power it has for mezmerizing me is astounding. I love easy ones...3D ones...I'll do a puzzle with someone or by myself. I love them.

Had a Yogi Bear puzzle as a kid. A hamburger puzzle as a teen. I just completed a rooster puzzle at Mom's the other day. And I know there are more jigsaws in my future.

There has to be!

Here's the deal: I can't NOT attempt to put pieces in place if there's a puzzle anywhere about. The Cancer Center where Mom has a doc that she sees once in a while has a table set up with a jigsaw. Just the other day we were there...and as soon as the nurse led Mom back for her appt., I was planted in a chair at that table, eagerly picking up pieces and figuring out where they go.

I love puzzles. I love how the pieces feel in my hand. I relish the satisfying 'snick' when a piece is put into it's proper place. I enjoy sorting the outside pieces from the inside pieces.

I can sit at a table, doing a puzzle, and lose track of time. Easily. I'm not kidding. I literally lost track of time in 1979 because I was working on a puzzle of Rip Van Winkle. Began it on Monday the 20th and when I finished it, the newspaper told me it was 1984.

You see, when I get really involved with a puzzle...nothing else matters. It's me...and the pieces...and the big picture of the finished puzzle. And this overpowering urge to complete it...

Oh, sometimes it's not all fun. Sometimes my brow furrows...when I think I've got a piece in the right place...but the fit isn't right. No worries, though. The challenge continues. And the challenge helps make it fun.

When I was about 11 years old, I had a Shaun Cassidy jigsaw puzzle. And I would put that thing together and take it apart and put it together and take it apart...and I got to this place in my mind where I began timing myself...to see how long it took me to complete that picture. To finish the puzzle.


I think my fastest time was like, 7 minutes. I wrote a letter to Shaun telling him of my victory and he wrote a song about it.

Well, he should've written a song. Because I felt it was quite an accomplishment.

Jigsaw puzzles, for me, are about a variety of things. They're about creativity, and concentration, and control. Eye candy...especially the really tough ones that use similiar colors and items like flowers or cars or water...to make your mind work even harder.

They satisfy the Monk in me by giving me a false sense of control. Of giving me the ability to sort...and categorize...and determine what happens next. Do I complete the sky? Or do I work on the log cabin? Ah Ha Ha....I rub my hands together and feel a little like Frankenstein's creator...striving to finish my creation.

Told you I had a problem with puzzles. :)

Here's my pondering for today:

Sometimes I think we're all pieces in this big ol' jigsaw puzzle. And Someone is placing us in our proper place. To complete this beautiful picture.

Here's the other thing about jigsaw puzzles. There is nothing more depressing...or maddening...or disappointing...than realizing that there is a piece that's missing.


You, my friend, are a very important piece of the puzzle. You're just as necessary as a corner piece...or the cat's eye...or the wheel on the wagon. The big picture needs you.

I need you. As puzzling as that may seem...