life situations

it is what it is

The Effort at Making and the Ease of Breaking Habits

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Back a few posts ago I wrote about my decline in thanksgiving; that it takes a month, so it’s been said, for an action to become a habit.  This past year was supposed to be filled with new habits:  cooking, practicing my baby grand, exercise routine, and a solid start on my scrapbooking.

Mmmmm! Dumplings

Do you see those delicious dumplings?  They were very delicious… but also one of the very few things I have cooked this year.

Not only do I look like Mom, I make a flour mess like she did. And they live on through us!

Jeez, I can’t believe there was a shooting at the courthouse today!

Do you see these rolls of fat?  Oh, yeah, I lost that picture.  Somehow it just didn’t make it onto the blog.  But they are there, rolling and sagging and jiggling and in general enjoying the non-exercise routine.  They resemble the dumplings above, only not as pretty.

You’ve seen my baby grand (if you’ve read any of my blog) and you notice I am not sitting at it in any of those photos.  I began playing every day when I first got it, and then…

Let’s see.  Now, what was I talking about?  Oh, yeah.  Scrapbooks.

The scrapbooking mess is not allowed to be seen by anyone at the moment.  Apparently even me.

Where is my Carmex?  My lips are so dry in this disgusting, nasty, rainy weather.

So I have already broken habits that I haven’t even made.  How can that be?  I am normally so together.  Okay.  Maybe not so together but for sure thinking about being so together.  Somewhere in those jumbled thoughts of mine I know an organized, so-together person is living who can cook great meals and play the piano like a real piano player and finish fantastic scrapbooks and is lean and trim, albeit still saggy.  That’s just a given at this station in the life cycle.

Thank goodness the month of thanksgiving is almost over.  I am worn out from the effort at making these new habits; there was just no energy left to apply toward making the thankful habit.   Come to think of it… I don’t know why I should be so tired.  It was so easy breaking the half-baked (I did cook!) habits.

Duuuuck! Cheeeese!

Think I’ll just continue on with the one habit I’m pretty sure I succeeded in making and not breaking:  taking pics of the girls in their towel.

The Resurrection of Mac

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The Mac is alive!!!  Kyle, my go-to friend who can figure out any and all computer problems, has succeeded in reviving it.  Not only has he got the Mac working like a Mac, but he has also got the Windows for my court reporting software working properly.  Now… I have to reinstall that software.  Hmmm.  Wonder if I should just take it over to the master or try to do it myself.

Tommi, the tower, has slowed down, again, as though she reflects her owner’s stamina.  Jerk.  Just let her try that after I’ve got my Zumba routine down and am moving around like a young IPad, whipping all over the place with all those apps.   The other laptop, Lenny, won’t get on the internet for some reason.  I thought it was the internet server having problems until I plugged it in to Mac.  He works just fine.  So… it must be something wrong with Lenny’s (Lenovo) insides.  I had tried to delete some stuff from the major gut place, and thought that had totally messed him up, but blessed Kyle fixed it.  And Len worked okay until I upgraded Firefox.  How could something that simple keep me from getting on the internet at all?!

I am almost back to being thankful.

The Birth of Radio Shaq!!!

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Well, the router trip turned into a USB trip.  That was successful!  (Somersaults, jumping up and down, yelling wildly)  My beloved RadioShack had a thingie with a USB on one end and an ethernet connection on the other.  So I bought the little darling for around $25.00 (worth every penny) and brought it home to marry my new Mac to the internet.  There was consummation of the marriage between them, and I have been deliriously happy ever since.

Today they are giving birth to a brand new blog post in their honor and named after the one who brought them together.  Little Radio Shaq is singing the praises of its godparent,

RadioShack

RadioShack, for getting me connected.  And this evening when I get home, I am going to try to get my software up and running via the downloads that I could not download previously.

🎵RadioShack…I think I love you.🎵

And so does little Radio Shaq!

Sweet Sam

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Well, it’s not tomorrow, if you read my last post.  But it is Sam’s day to shine.  And he does love to shine.

Sam summer 2009

This pic was a couple of years ago, but it portrays his sweet little smile that he still has today.  Although, this picture does show his mouth closed which never happens.  He talks nonstop.

On our way home from K.C., as he sat way back in the far back seat, he asked his Mawmaw, who had driven the whole trip, why she had to do all the driving and Gigi was just sitting there.  See how thoughtful he is?  Then he proceeded to tell us how unfair that was and all Gigi was doing was just lying around.  I had to save my reputation and explain that I had to take care of little Ava so I really couldn’t drive.  I don’t think he bought it.

Sam is a special gift to me from God as well.  If you read my last post, you saw that 2001 was a bad year, but in 2002 God gave me little Jack.  Then the next year, in 2003, we were all busy getting ready for Jack’s first birthday which kept me from dwelling on the anniversary of my husband’s death, as well as all the other things that were occurring within my family.  Then in the latter part of 2003, Julie (bless her heart) was pregnant again.  Another baby due the last of April!  Yippee.  Another surprise since they chose to let the sex be kept a secret from them once again.

And once again, in March of 2004, five weeks early, Julie had to go into delivery with Sam.  Another wonderful distraction from sad memories.  This time I didn’t make it in time for the birth, just barely missing it,  and so the evening was filled with anticipation and eagerness to get there, phone calls back and forth.  “Do we have a baby yet?  What do you think it’s going to be?”  And once again, the little fella came five weeks early, on March 12, the exact date of my husband’s death only two years previous.   And once again around the exact same time as my husband lay dying, my little nephew was being born.  A gift to me from God.

Little Sam fell as in love with me as I was with him, just as Jack had done.  My life was again filled with a baby, a new little life, plus the added delight of a two-year-old Jack. Such wonderful distractions from sad situations.  And once again my sister and Julie shared their little bundles of joy with me.

So for the four years after the death of my husband, on each anniversary of that death, a little life was born or a celebration of that little life was taking place.  These two boys have been God’s blessing to me… and at this time of thankfulness, I am so thankful for them.

My Sweet Jack and Sam

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The sister and I took a day trip to the doc today, getting all kinds of tests taken and blood vaccuumed from our veins.  Next week is the return trip to see how healthy/not-so-healthy we are.  Let’s hope it turns out better than today’s extraordinarily long day–maybe she will allow me to tell you about it later — however, we did swear each other to absolute secrecy.

But the whole point of that little intro (because we talked about them) was to bring up my nephews, Jack and Sam.  I’m sure I have mentioned them before and maybe even why they are so special to me, but today I am going to tell you again because today I am counting them as one of my greatest blessings and am most thankful this month for the little boogers.

Sam and Jack Easter 2011

The year 2001 at approximately 5:00 in the evening on March 12 my husband died.  And I was devastated.  Exactly one year later, little Jack was born.  And here’s the story…

The week of March 12, 2002, I took off three days of work because I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate at work.  It was the anniversary of my husband’s death, and the year had been extremely rough for me.  In January of 2002 my mini-breakdown, as I call it, was only appeased by a trip to the Eagle’s Nest (another awesome story for another day).  By March I was back at the regular grind of learning to live without parts of me or, in other words, great grief.  The only way I can express to you how grief feels is to say it is like losing parts of your body, say, a leg and having to learn to live without that part, learning to walk all over again.  Knowing the days around March 12 were going to be tough ones, I prepared and took time off from work.

My sister’s daughter-in-law was pregnant at that time, due the middle of April, but on March 11 Darla calls and says, “Julie’s water broke; we’re going to the hospital.”  Oh, my!  That’s at least five weeks early!!  I jumped in my vehicle and met them on the highway, being the lead vehicle, honking at people to move their slow butts out of the way (the contractions were getting closer and by golly she wanted that epidural!).  We had to get there in time for the epidural!!  It just so happened that the 11th came that year on the same day of the week that James died, not the date, but the day of the week.  I had been reliving all the events.  Until Dar called.

As we raced to the hospital and waited for him to be born, I forgot about everything else.  Wes, the uncle-to-be, was there with the video camera interviewing all of us.  “What do you think it’s going to be?  Girl?  Boy?”  Davy and Julie had chosen to be surprised at birth instead of finding out from the sonogram what the sex would be.  That made it doubly exciting!  Wes had all sorts of neat things on that video, fun things, and we were all so eager.

Not until it was all said and done did we realize that little Jack had been born at the same time my husband had been dying only a year earlier.  What had been destined to be a heart-wrenching evening had turned into one of joy and thanksgiving.  A gift from God to me.

Jack summer 2009

From the first moment that little fella was put in my arms, he loved me.  He wanted me even when his Momma was around or his Mawmaw.  And even though Jack was my sister’s first grandchild, she gave him up to me, letting him love on me instead of her many, many times.  And even though Jack was his Momma’s first-born son, she gave him up to me, to let him love on me many, many times.

How can I express my thankfulness to God for these women?  How can I make you understand how special a gift that was to me in a time I was losing every person I loved to death or mental illness or drugs?  What can I possibly say to convey the depth of aloneness that was relieved by this little baby’s hand grasping mine and his great love and longing he had for me?

My gratitude to God for this precious gift He gave me, even though his sweet Momma had to give birth five weeks early for me to get it/him on the day I needed, is deep.  I will not understand this life until I get to Heaven; it is too complex; there are too many contradictions.  Why does something bad happen or something wonderful happen?  When I was yelling and screaming and mad at God, He finally had a little talk with me, through chapters 38-41 in the Book of Job, and told me to stop.  I’ll let you read it and see what He said.

Tomorrow… Sweet little Sam.

Is It The Full Moon?

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Dr. Kimberly Quinlan Lindsey, 44

Click on the link to read her story.  It’s not pretty.  She’s one of the big whigs in the CDC, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention; in charge of $1.5 billion fiscal allotment for Terrorism Preparedness.  Is that what made her do these things?  Or is it the full moon?

Two Amish Men

Here’s another unsettling tidbit of information for you.  The Amish?  The ones who wear their differences from the outside world on their shirts with no buttons?  Are they not so different after all?  Or is it the full moon?

Hana Grace

The book that was used to kill13-year-old Hana Grace was written by an Amish preacher.  It tells how to beat your children starting at age one.  Some of you may have heard of it: To Train Up a Child.  It was also the torture inspiration for little Lydia and Sean.  Do these people use God as their reason to torture and kill young children?  Or is it the full moon?

Lucky Little Mattie

Ah, and then there’s little Mattie whom I follow on his parents’ web site From the Heart.  I can tell you it is not the full moon that has directed their path.  It is the Son.

 

The Week in Retrospect

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There is a little saying that I tell my children all the time, and other people, too, if I feel they need to hear it: “Just give it a year; a lot can happen in a year.”  In that year we have had babies born to lift our spirits, overcome hardship, renewed a marriage… the list goes on and on.

A lot can happen in a week, too.  This past week they were sad events: the loss of my little Boaz and much more importantly the loss of a dad, the dad my children still needed in their lives.  And the little saying just won’t work this time because that kind of loss never leaves.  That kind of loss is the kind in which a person has to learn to live differently:  without the presence they loved.

This week was an emotional week where my children and family met to honor someone they loved, to remember the goodness and the grace of God within him, to pour out loving support.  It was a time where friends of their dad came to tell our children good things about their dad, tell funny stories, and express sorrow.

When I woke up this morning, I was going to hop up out of bed and start right off with the Halloween contest and the goals for the month.  But starting off with remembering the past week was more appropriate.  And then we have to move on because that’s the way life is.  It may take us longer than a year (sometimes a lifetime) to move on, but that we must do.

My grandfather-in-law, Joe Wright,  was a mortician.  He experienced death on a personal basis regularly, not just in his business but through the loss of many of his close, loved, family members.  After the death of his grandson, my husband James, when I was so distraught, he talked with me and said, “Life is for the living.  We have to keep living until we die.”   Not existing, but living.

So this month, I want you to live.  Make the effort to do something you don’t ordinarily do:  exercise? read your Bible? dance? say I love you at least once a day? send me your Halloween photos?

Blessings to you on your efforts.  Send me an update on what you are doing.  Send me Halloween photos.

Taking a Break

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To all my faithful readers, life around here has been a little more than hectic right now.  I need to take a short break.

The father of my children died Friday, and they really, really need me.  Today was a full day driving up to Alton to see my son.  I am tired, just bone tired.

So I will get back with you the 1st of October.  Send me your Halloween photos.  I need them for the blog.  I love you guys!

apronsandappetites@yahoo.com.sg —  or drop them by the house if you live close — or bring them to church.  🙂

Boaz Byassee

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My Bo has been gone now for a week yesterday.  I don’t have a clue what happened to him.  Even though he was getting old, he could still catch birds and squirrels.  Not an easy task.  So I think he has been hit by a vehicle or killed by a dog or gotten stuck somewhere that he couldn’t get out.

It seems so weird coming home and him not waiting in the driveway for me.  And getting up in the morning and not seeing him waiting by the back door to be fed.

No, I don’t want another one.  Not yet anyway.

There Was an Old Woman Who Lived In a Shoe

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Actually, I must be living with my head in a hole in the ground like a big ostrich!  Why? you ask.  I went grocery shopping today and about had a heart attack!  How do families eat?!?!  One orange was 78 cents!!  A bag of apples was about $7!!  A gallon of Prairie Farms milk was $5!

Good grief!!  If minimum wage is $8.25 an hour (not sure if it’s more) then a person has to work an hour to buy a bag of apples and one orange.  I’m just amazed at the price of food.  It’s rather unbelievable.

If I had a family today, I would make a pen in my backyard and raise chickens for eggs and Sunday dinner; a pig for my bacon; and raise a garden.  I don’t think I have room for a cow, but one of my friend’s could raise the cow, and we could barter.  Then I see these people, who have no money, smoking, and I wonder what they have to give up to keep that vice… or what their children have to give up for them to keep it.  But I do not understand addictions and do not want to cast any assumptions toward anyone who has an addiction.  The Good Lord knows we all have our big and little demons that we fight.  I have plenty of questions about why I do this or why I do that to keep me guessing at answers.  No need to look around for more.

Except I have to ask:  what is the deal with food being so outrageously expensive?  Since I’m a cereal freak and a peanut butter freak, with no one to really feed but me, I don’t shop that often.

Jeez Lou-eeze!  I may have to rethink my Momma Magazine Menu Meals for everyone’s birthday.  Closed due to Momma refusing to pay outlandish prices for food!

And to think, I had dates already in place for all you all.  Darn it.