Blurking and other bloggy treats

I haven't been blogging a lot lately.
You noticed......didn't you?
Oh ok so you didn't....whatever.... Well if you read my stuff, (I am going to start calling it stuff because I really have an aversion to the word blog. It is just too close to the word blob and we chunky people are sensitive. I remember the first time I heard someone say they blogged and I immediately without knowing what they were talking about sniffed..."not for me.")
If you do read my stuff then you know that I am at best unsure of my motivation to have a blog. I had pretty much steered clear of them because of my said aversion to the word "blog" and life seemed to be in order without one.....until I followed a link given to me by a another missionary mother. It was a sad tale...a true tragedy...a gripping story which begged for the reader to continue to keep coming back for daily updates and status reports. I was going through a little personal rough patch of my own and so the story fed my need to know that there were others who were in pain....worse than my own. I was hooked. I thought about it way more than I should of. I checked it everyday...sometimes more than once. I think it became that diversion I needed to get through some of my own stuff. I felt silly and a little guilty like the rubberneckers on the freeway who slow down to take a long look, only to slow down the drivers behind them, who yell and curse the traffic but slow down themselves to whet the appetite of their morbid curiosity.
I was content to be a blurker.
I encouraged my friends to blurk too. Sending them the links. Feeding their new addiction.
And then it happened.
I became one of them.
For what reason I still do not comprehend. I told myself that it was a fun diversion...a digital scrapbook....a place to write down my thoughts since I absolutely will not keep a journal no matter how many times I am commanded.
It was innocent at first until I noticed that there were blogs with little maps of the world and dots.
DOTS!
Dots from Germany and Iran and Indonesia and Brazil.
I wanted a map.
I wanted dots.
I wanted to know that someone in Botswana found me interesting or enlightening.
Then I realized that other blogs had comments.
COMMENTS!
I didn't just want those. I needed those. Please lady in Botswana please tell me why you are reading this? Hey person in Abu Dhabi why are you clicking on my blog?
I have been privileged to get to know some really amazing people through this blog but the pieces still don't quite fit.
I went back to blurking this summer and read stories that were beyond incredible and beyond heart breaking and beyond well written. I saw pictures that were beautiful and touching and professional. (Did I mention I consider myself a photo essayist since I have yet to write an entry without a picture that inspires me)
With each story I read I became convinced that "my story" was too average and borders on the mundane. (I mean it..really folks..I read about illnesses and deaths, fires and plagues, demon possessions and miracles, awards and human achievements of epic proportions......... and they were well written too)
And so I put myself in blogging jail....I did NOT pass go and I did NOT collect 200 dollars.
But here I am again.
I feel a little like my dog Sadie up there in the picture being offered a bone. Even though they are really just like her regular dog food she can't help but think she is getting a treat.
So what if I am boring.
So what if the dots are only people accidentally clicking on my site.
Who cares if only my friends leave comments.
It's a treat.
And I thank you.

Adventures on the Road

8 days of a road trip
8 days of togetherness
8 days of regional cuisine
8 nights of sleeping in strange beds
8 days of shopping for souveniers
8 days of museums, amusement parks, and new vistas
703 digital pictures

Yes,.....you read that right...703.
With so many to choose from which would I post to sum up our adventure.

After a lot of thought I chose this one. If you have ever made a road trip through this great country the one thing you can expect is the unexpected. And so devoted readers...here it is.
Because when you are in Nashville Tennessee the country music capital of the world and you come across a full scale model of the Parthenon in Greece and you just happen to meet Captain Incredible there you just have to jump for joy.
Thank you America for being so beautiful, so crazy, so diverse, so much dang fun.
And thank you Mr. T and Peanut for being such wonderful traveling companions on the journey.

What I wanna be when I grow up..

This is what I want to do
when I grow up.
If I had only known 30 years ago
before my parents and I invested thousands
in my education as a teacher.
Not that I don't like teaching.
I like it.
I think I even have an appitude for it.
(or so I am told)
But the excitement that I get
from taking pictures.
There is no match for it.
It is second only to the passion I have
for being a wife and a mother.
(and let's face it those things are so hard)
As I have always told my kids as whined and fussed at moments that they have been instructed to smile for the birdie.."If there are no pictures of something, it might not have actually happened. I read a post from CJane this week that said that she didn't take her camera on her trip to England and that she took snapshots with her mind and that would be enough. Good luck with that one I say. She is young. Her mental photo album is still relatively uncluttered. Wait until the album is filled and the pictures are stuffed in the shoeboxes of your brain, cluttered and unorganized. Or the lens on the brains camera is fuzzy, needs reading glasses and the rusty shutter sticks every now and then. That when you need the real thing on paper. Good photographic paper that won't yellow or fade and feels substantial in your hands and in your heart.
That's when you will feel grateful for the screwball in the family that always had a camera in their hand.
The one who made you mad because you weren't wearing make-up or you wanted to wait until you had lost a few pounds.
Who insists on the photo of the family dinner that you complained about because the food was getting cold.
Yup, that's me.
You don't have to thank me. (although no one is stopping you)
I do it because I love it like I love rocky road ice cream.
I need to like I need oxygen to breathe.
It's who I am.
Now how am I going to turn it into a retirement part time job?
Anyone need a retired teacher/semi retired mom/photographer?

P.S. It doesn't hurt to have two of the most beautiful models ever...Peanut and her cousin Pizza. It makes the task a piece of cake. Thank you girls. You rock!

A Rich aBUNDTance: Sister and Sweets

Party Time!! My stunningly sweet sister and drop dead darling daughter are visiting the great state of Texas for a week. I've been looking forward to this for awhile now.....and what could make their visit even sweeter?
BUNDT CAKE!!
Not that their visit alone is not exciting enough but you just gotta love a house guest that brings cake.
Outstanding!
This is a cake from Utah the land of yummy bread and pastries. Mormons really know their way around the sweets. I had one of these when I was there for Raars graduation in April and fell head over heels madly in love. This one is lemon with cream cheese frosting. I can't get it here in Texas which is probably a good thing. But my thoughtful big sis brought the slice of heaven here to me. I take back all of the mean or spiteful things I ever did in the name of sibling rivalry to her. Well almost all of them....I still get a chuckle at the time she was growing into womanhood and wearing her bra all of the time (even to sleep) because she said that I was staring at her. I told her that I read somewhere that wearing a bra 24/7 can give you breast cancer. Or that time that I got red marker on the new white couch and when my Dad questioned us I said that it wasn't me and Precious (that's what I call big sis) was found guilty before he even asked her by process of elimination. Or the time......oh nevermind, you get the point.
Sisters can never erase the past. They can only build bridges in the present...bridges made of luscious lemon bundt cake.

Stay tuned for reports of our week of adventure!

A Charmed Life

When I was a little girl my mom and dad bought me a charm bracelet.
They were pretty popular back then. The charm that was all the rage was the little mustard seed. It was pretty encouraging to me as a little girl that my faith only needed to be that big for me to move mountains. I figured I could muster (lol no pun intended) at least that much faith. It seems a little trickier now that I am not so young. I haven't moved any mountains lately so I am still obviously a work in progress.
The charm bracelet has grown over the years. It is now filled. It is heavy and cumbersome to wear and every link is filled. I know I should start another one but it makes me sad to think that the new one would not have some of my favorites like;
The pinecone: purchased in a little country store in Coldspring Texas where I took my girls every year to Mother Daughter Campout. I would take them out of school for the day and we would get there before all of the other mothers and daughters. We would stop at a little restaurant called "The Hop" and eat fries and drink strawberry banana milkshakes. I purchased their bracelets and first charms there. It was always such a magical time for the three of us.
The Twin Towers: We had a girls trip planned to New York City in November 2000 for a fun filled weekend of broadway shows, eating and sight seeing. We sat around the table one Sunday talking about the "must see" sights on our list. They included among others, the statue of liberty, Ellis Island, the World Trade Center, and beautiful fall foliage. The next morning my brother called and told me that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center Tower. He is a big tease and so I told him to stop. He told me to turn on my TV. My stomach just dropped. It was unbelievable. The feeling of fear and of being under attack as a nation is one I will never forget. My children were in three different schools; elementary, middle and high school. I spent the rest of the day checking them out of school along with other frightened parents. I just wanted to hug them and let them know that it was alright. I wanted to be the one to reassure them and I wanted everyone I loved to be close by. I was so frightened to get on a plane after only two months later but I did it. I conquered my fear and I went. It was an amazing trip filled with laughter, fun, shows, eating, family and a deep sense of love of country and freedom. I think it made me realize how much family and country meant and to never to take them for granted. I bought the charm so I would never forget.
The train: On my 15 anniversary my husband gave me a steam engine train charm. It was to remind me of our honeymoon when we rode the Durango Silverton train up a winding vista of breath taking scenery. It was beautiful but I was more focused on staring at the passenger next to me. He was beautiful...more than anything outside that train. He was my soul mate and the love of my live. I spent the afternoon wondering how I could be so lucky and so happy. And why on earth would someone so good looking and so nice pick me. Someday I will ride that train again and try and appreciate what is outside of the train but who knows...if Mr. T is sitting by me all bets are off.
My charm bracelet tells my story. It is a shiny silvery history of love and laughter and life.
Here's to the start of another bracelet just as full.

Exploring new territory in the back yard

These are pictures from my backyard. I love taking pictures. But I don't love my backyard. I have a love/hate relationship with the out of doors. (I hope that those of you who love being outdoors won't stop being my friend...just keep reading..it gets better) I have always felt that the outdoors definitely had it's place....."it's place" meaning being viewed from the window of my perfectly climate controlled spot in my favorite chair with a book on my lap. Now it might be because I live in Houston. Anyone who has ever been to Houston in the summer, raise your hand. Yup all of those people are nodding their heads in agreement. It is hot.
It is sweat inducing, hair frizzingly humid, energy sapping, fry an egg on the sidewalk, steam broccoli without a stove, tear jerking HOT in Houston.
But I have made peace with that.
I just stay inside.
Or rather I use to stay inside. My body is changing. I think I am entering into the last sputterings of the hormonal choo choo train I boarded when I was a teenager and it is changing who I am. I was always the "hot one". (interpret that however you want to) I could be in 30 degree weather in a T shirt and love it. I made sure that my exposure to the outside was only the brief seconds that it required to go from one air conditioned spot to another air conditioned spot. And I look slow but like a crocodile I can go short distances freakishly fast.
Now I am always cold.
I am that annoying person that says. "Is anybody else cold in here?" I am the old lady who brings a sweater in her car everywhere just in case. I am the person who turns off the fan in the room.
Just plain weird.
But it has it's bright side. I think I am falling in love with my backyard. I spent two hours on Thursday just sitting and drinking it all in. I took these pictures. Did you know that there are some fascinating things in MY backyard? I sure didn't. There must have been at least a dozen different species of birds. The tomatoes that we planted are beautiful. The herbs were deliciously fragrant.
WHO KNEW?
I guess you outdoor people did.

"I SEE" said the blind man who could not see at all.

EUREKA!! I think I've got it. Remember in one of my last somewhat melancholy posts that I didn't really know why I have a blog? I know why! Do you want to know too? (Admit it...you've hardly been able to get a decent nights sleep since I said it. lol)

IT"S YOU!! (and a little me)

I was so touched by the response from people I had never met who took the time out of their busy lives to lend a listening ear and a write a kind response.
And what a sweet little birdie who told her friends to stop by!! Oh how I wish we lived in the same town Kristin. I think I would like to be your new best friend. You are such a thoughtful person. Thank you.

I realized that the older I get, the more exclusive I have gotten. I just don't go out as much as I use to. I would rather stay home than go shopping. I don't look forward to outings as much as I use to. I chalked this up to age and decided it was ok. But maybe it's not.
Maybe this blog is a way to connect with something (without leaving the comfort of my easy chair). It is like a little window to the outside world when I am just not feeling like leaving my nest. It is a transition period between my active mothering stage and the time when I am going to have to go back out into the world as just me, myself.....not the MOMshell but just Shell. I know that it will be good for me to discover that part of me again,
but for now, I am enjoying the ability to be in my home mothering my last chick.
So for now, I blog.
And I meet great people like you.
And I sit in my worn, comfortable easy chair.
And I plan for the future.
P.S. Reason #2 My sister said I made her cry and that she was proud of me. Right back at you precious. Your picture should be listed under the definition of what a big sister should be. In fact I think it already is.
P.S.S. The title of this post is something my grandma Elgie use to say all of the time. Now when ever any one says, "I see" I have the urge to say it. She was a pistol. I miss her.

Happy 17th Birthday Peanut!

I love you more than you could ever imagine. I am so proud of the young woman you have become. You are not only beautiful on the outside but you are beautiful on the inside as well. I could not have asked for more. You are my sunshine.

My son and a bug.

I haven't blogged lately.
I am not quite completely sure why but I have a few ideas.
It could be that I was working at the mission home for my mother while she sailed turquoise blue water and lived the life of a queen while I worked 2 forty hour work weeks outside my home (haven't done that in quite awhile)
It might have been because the traffic on the site dropped down to about 5 or 6 people and frankly whoever the 5 or 6 of you are....I love you, but I began to take a step back and evaluate why I was writing a blog and what did I want. Why would numbers matter. What am I doing this for any way? I am still pondering that and that very topic will be my next blog entry. Maybe the 5 or 6 of you and I can put our heads together and it will become clearer to me.

I really think that the reason I haven't blogged is....I miss my son.
Not in a crying out loud, rending my clothes kind of way but in a silent melancholy stupor of thought....a beating of my heart that seems irregular, quick then slow. He is battling parasites this week in Guatemala and I am not there. I can not take him to the doctor. I can not buy him a Sonic Route 44 Slush to wash down the medication. I can not watch him as he lays on the couch and sleeps off this illness. I can not scratch his head or give him a hug. I can not even pick up the phone to get a status report.

I just try to block out the kind of emotions that come with typing that last paragraph....the tears that are rolling down my cheeks right now. That's why I haven't blogged. Everything else seems a little trivial to write about and yet this seems too much to think about. I don't want to come off as overly dramatic. He would hate that. His emails are filled with positive comments and commands to "not worry" and "I am doing great". He is doing a man's work....the Lord's work and I could not have more respect for him if he were the President of the United States, but I miss my boy.

I have a recurring dream maybe once or twice a month. He is suddenly there in my mundane dream about mundane things and I realize he has been standing there...my boy.... quiet, tall, his skin brownish red from the Guatemalan sun, his white shirt a little dingy and wrinkled from being hand washed and his shoes dusty and worn from the miles he hikes every day. He doesn't say anything and I just hug him. Somehow without words he tells me that he is happy and is doing fine and that I shouldn't worry. I just can't believe that he is grown....he is an amazing man.
I wake up with a smile.
and then my heart beat begins its funny rhythm
quick and then slow
another day.

(The picture is a parasite on a crab. I haven't had the heart to read anything about parasites or even look at pictures of one. I am trying to keep a lid on this. So if you have any "good" stories about parasites, let me know. If you have any horrible stories about a friend or your brother or your uncle or your aunts cousins third husband who had parasites and suffered in agony please tell them to those who enjoy a rousing medical drama story. I am not accepting stories like that at this time but I am sure that the 5 or 6 of you already had that figured out. Thanks for stopping by and thanks for listening)

You can learn a lot by staring

I am filling in for my mom for two weeks.

She is a serving a mission in the local mission office for a year.

Problem was that when she was called she had already booked a two week cruise to the greek isles. I know....tough break but someone has to float around in a 5 star ship being served lobster tails and caviar and it was her turn I guess. (If you want an idea of what it looks like where she is then watch the movie mamma mia. That's where she is floating.

I get to stay here.

Before I start to sound so whiny...it does have it's advantages.

I have been a SAHM for 22 years now.

When I first started blogging I had no idea what SAHM was. Everytime I would read it on someone's blog I would make up my own definition.

Santa and his mama

Stay away, have measles

Sarcastic and have meatballs

Sad and/or happy mentally

Well you get the point....sorry I digress. (Just in case I am not the only retard on the planet it means Stay at home mother.....which would have been a handy phrase when my mom asked me to sub for her.....I could have just spewed out...SAHM)

Anyway I have enjoyed parts of the last few days.

My favorite part is when I get to the office. I am the first to arrive and am ususally here for the first hour or so by myself. I open the door, open the blinds, sit down at my computer and

stare.

I stare out the window.

I am pacing my work because there is not enough to keep me busy for the whole day. Other than answering the phone which only rings a few times a day, the chores my mother left for me take only about an hour or two total. I want to save my work until everyone gets here so I won't feel left out or appear to be a slacker.

That's ok with me though. I have found that my life is missing a good staring session. It's theraputic. Being my own boss these past 22 years as a SAHM has made me realize that I tend to fill my mind with noise. When my kids were small it was just the noise that they made...ALL DAY! Sometimes I thought my brain would explode from the constant noise. I began to just despise the word "mom". They would say it over and over and over. Sometimes they would say mom...mom...(me: what?)....mom...mom...(me: yes?) mom....mom...(me:WHAT!!!!) oh I didn't hear you....can I have a pop tart? I longed for peace and quiet. Then when they all started to peel off to their own little worlds at school, I would turn on the TV or the radio...so accustomed to the noise that I subconciously filled their void.

But nothing makes you stop and stare more than sitting at a job with no TV or radio....
no distractions.
It is good to be quiet.
To look around and really see what is around you
oh and it's good to have a dish of candy sitting next to you
just in case.

You really can "have it your way"

Raar is interviewing for teaching jobs right now. The economy is kinda scary for all of those 2009 college graduates but I have no doubt she will succeed. She has always been unbelieveably amazing in finding employment. Her first job at 16 was working at Burger King. She was not too happy about working in fast food but her Dad and I really pushed it because it was close by and we had to drive her back and forth. They also would hire anyone with a pulse.
Her manager was a middle aged woman with a pulse and not a very good command of the english language. Even though Megan recieved a name tag with her spiffy new uniform ( we snickered about the fact that the back of her hat read "Have it your way". Seems a little suggestive for a teenage girl to be wearing) the manager could never quite call her by name. She called her "lady".....as in "Hey lady, scoop me some fries." or "Hey lady, you to clean tables".
Well after two months of Hey Lady, Lady wanted another job. I warned her that being 16 with no real job skills that she shouldn't get her hopes up for something much better. She just ignored me. She made a very professional looking resume, put on a nice outfit, got in her car and waved goodbye.
I shook my head and thought to myself tsk tsk......poor thing....she will learn just how hard it is to be turned down. She will see that it is a hard cruel world out there for a teenager with no real work experience. How soon she will lose that optimistic naive view of the world.
About an hour later her car pulled up in the driveway.
Back so soon? It must have been more brutal than even I had imagined.
I put on my best sympathetic mom face to greet her.
Come here sweetie let me give you a hug.
What??
You got a job?
At an optometrist.
(wiping suprised look off of my face)
Oh Raar sweetie....I knew that you could do it all the time.

P.S. She has had about 7 different jobs over the last 6 years. All of them were secured on the first day she went out looking. Good jobs too. I guess she really does know how to have it "her way"
P.S.S. I am hoping that she snags a teaching job at a high school like this. The slide would be perfect for unruly behavior. I wish I had had one in my teaching days.

Happy Mothers Day Mom! You're swell!

This is my mom and her mom.
I got lucky...
I come from a long line of
amazing
caring
devoted
spunky
intelligent
talented
strong willed
attractive
funny
and spiritually strong
mothers.
It is a legacy I could never
repay..
I can only pass it on..
pay it forward.
For everything you have done
and continue to do for me Mom
I love you.
Thank you.