Simple Joys Surrounding Easter Weekend

It seems a good time to take a minute and consider with gratitude the many ways I have been reminded of how blessed I am these past few days. Here are a few:

*Eating a grand Easter Supper with a multitude of dear family and friends

*Planting spring flowers with Abigail and Jonathan

*The delectable smell of roasting turkey

*Snuggling in bed early in the morning reading books with my two boys

*Seeing the startled expression on Jonathan’s scrunched-up face after tasting a sour pickle

*Homemade frozen chocolate pie with fresh whipped cream

*A clean oven (my “automatic” cleaning cycle always causes the oven to short and blow a fuse or something, so i must do this task manually. hence, when it finally gets done, it is an event, and one to be most grateful for!)

*Receiving an unasked-for kiss and hug from little Jonathan

*Getting a letter in the mail from a lovely grown-up young woman whom I mentored as a junior and high school student

*Watching my husband and children fly a kite (even if it did end up stuck at the top of our tallest tree, thereby ending the fun!)

*Little Nicolas’ extreme delight over the fact that he is now staying dry and can wear his adored “Bob the Builder” and “Thomas” underwear

*Celebrating Jesus’ resurrection by worshipping on Easter Sunday with family, and listening to all three of my children sing “Up From the Grave He Arose” with utmost enthusiasm

Death cannot keep its prey, Jesus my Savior;
he tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!

Up from the grave he arose;
with a mighty triumph o’er his foes;
he arose a victor from the dark domain,
and he lives forever, with his saints to reign.
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!
~Robert Lowry

Simple Pleasures

Again, borrowing from Leslie at Abiding, here are some simple pleasures I’ve enjoyed the last few days:

*Reading new library books with snuggly little children.

*An hour all to myself to go shopping.

*Sleeping late on Saturday (8:30 is late for us!).

*Getting dressed up to go out to an evening wedding with my husband.

*Dancing with my wonderful husband at that same wedding.

*Hearing our 2 year old sing song after song in his crib when we put him in bed for the night.

*Eating leftover turkey sandwiches. (Just so you’re not wondering if we’re still eating Christmas turkey, I cooked a second one a week after Christmas!)

*The feeling of accomplishment after making 4 turkey pies from the rest of the leftover bird.

*Starting a new novel.

*Riding a carousel with all three of my kids (none of them are afraid of it anymore!).

*Eating cheesecake and watching a movie in bed with my hubby after a long day.

Here is hoping you and your family are also enjoying simple pleasures in this new year.

Embarassing Words

Yesterday after picking kids up from school, we ran an errand to look for a winter coat for Jonathan. As I was unloading the kids from the minivan, Abigail said something and included the word “blast!” in her sentence. I very gently admonished her, saying, “Abigail, it’s not ladylike to say ‘blast’. Please try not to use that word so much”.

The words were still on my tongue as I, in the act of climbing into the van to extricate young Nicolas from his carseat, hit my head quite hard on the edge of the roof/side door opening. And what should come out of my mouth just a nanosecond after my correction to my daughter? “Oh, crap!” (It really did hurt!!)

Surely someone reading can identify with how a parent feels in such a situation. I was absolutely mortified, ashamed, humbled, whatever adjective you feel appropriate.

“Don’t worry that your children never listen to you.
Worry that they are always watching you.”
— Robert Fulghum

Weekend Joys

It’s been a big week in many ways. I haven’t written much, but rather than recount it all, I will leave you with some high points of just the past few days:

a LONG afternoon nap

holding and listening to my 2 year old enthusiastically sing Holy, Holy, Holy during our worship service today

a surprise visit from my little brother in the middle of the day

the hugs and prayers of family and friends

a girlie outing: browsing Old Downtown McKinney and enjoying lunch with my little sis and daughter on a pretty afternoon

Getting negative biopsy results (Praise God!!) three days earlier than we’d expected to hear

a surprise date night from my husband

my daughter’s delight over the many butterflies we have seen the last couple days

lunch out with my brother and sis-in-law.

warm brownies and cold milk!!

Nothing Worth Crying Over

As I returned home from our grocery trip this morning, I tried to carry a few too many things in my left hand (note to my gentle readers: it would seem two gallons of milk plus a plastic bag of groceries in one hand is too much) and alas, I dropped a carton of milk, thus causing it to burst, and begin sending a little river of the precious white stuff out onto my garage floor.

To waste the milk of the dairy cow has always seemed an abomination to me, but even more so given the recent increase in the price of her milk. As I helplessly watched the $3/gallon stuff leak out of its carton it occurred to me that it might be wise to jump into action, which I did.

I grabbed a glass pitcher from the kitchen and turning the milk carton right side up so that the milk could properly leak from the crack at its base into my pitcher (I am trying not to concern myself with the fact that the bottom of the milk carton is probably not the most sanitary end for the milk to pour out from!), I promptly filled it to the top. I fetched a second pitcher and filled it again, halfway.

Thus I ended up saving, not all, but most of the lovely milk, some of which we enjoyed with our lunch. And to look upon the bright side of this little domestic fiasco, I must say that having a large glass pitcher of fresh milk in my refrigerator is rather romantic. I feel almost as if we lived in a different time, before the advent of the plastic carton, and I can almost imagine that we milked our own cow before dawn this morning or that perhaps our faithful dairy man delivered our supply of milk to our door earlier today so that we might enjoy it.

Can you tell I am in the middle of not one, but two pieces of 19th century children’s literature??

Weekend Joys

By way of disclaimor, I am stealing a theme from Leslie here!!

Some of my weekend joys were:

a dinner and a movie date night with my husband
dancing with my children
Starbucks!! a grande, nonfat, half caf vanilla latte with whipped! (no joke)
shopping for a school backpack with Abigail
hearing Jonathan read over 25 new words
Cleaning out a closet!
Cooking supper with all three kids
listening to Nicolas sing “Crinkle, Crinkle Ittle Tar”
a yummy cannoli for dessert
worshipping today with 9 other family members
ending the day listening to Jay serenade me on a yellow plastic saxophone (he’s quite good!)

The Summer of My Itch

It would seem in poor taste for me to go missing for some time on the blog front and then return only to post a whiney-sounding entry. Please know I do not wish to give offense by the following, however, I must tell you that among the more pleasant happenings this summer there has been a nagging little issue that just won’t go away. Oh, it fades into the background for a week here and there, but then flames up again in a most frustrating way. Today though, I feel we may have reached a turning point, so I shall recount my little woe to you now that I know there will be perhaps a tinge of hope interlaced with the grumbling.

Very early in June, during our week of VBS, I began noticing a strange amount of bug bites just under my chin. Every morning I woke up to find more of these, and within a couple days, the bites were no longer limited to my chin. My soon-to-be-sis-in-law commented that my bites looked more like a case of hives and soon others indicated to me that I’d best see a medical professional for their opinion.

Well, given the busyness of our week I did not make it to the doctor’s office until a week later, where I was diagnosed with a rather severe case of poison ivy and put on a dose of steroids to deal with it. What a mess I was. And boy, did I itch!! Happily, within a few days there were no new “spots” and in another week things were clearing up pretty well. I figured the steroids did their trick and was quite grateful for modern medecine.

Unfortunately, by a week’s time after this “cure”, I found evidence that the poison ivy was not actually all gone. And each day it got a little worse than the day before. Back to the doctor’s, only this time I went to a dermatologist, thinking a specialist would surely be able to help me. He confirmed the diagnosis, but indicated that my primary physician, who wrote the first steroid prescription, did not give me a strong enough prescription to wipe out the rash. “Oh good,” I thought, “all I need is a higher dose of the pills, maybe even a shot to get things started, and I will be rid of this problem!” After all, we were only two weeks from the huge family wedding of the summer, the arrival of tons of out of town company, and many events to see to and attend. I really did not want to continue dealing with poison ivy.

However, the dermatologist felt that another dose of steroids might prove harmful to me (too many steroids = not good) so better to wait it out (what???) and use some creams and such in the meantime till it clears. This was NOT what I was looking for. But I tried to remember he was the doctor, he went to school for the degree and all, and that I needed to follow his advice.

So I went home and obediently used my creams, and kept itching. Till another week and yes, admittedly, the rash did ease up again. I was hoping this was the last of it. The weekend of the wedding arrived and oh no!! New spots began appearing, again. As I complain about this, please know that I realize my little affliction is quite minor compared to the physical ills so many in this world suffer. And yet I admit I was growing weary of itching. And treatments that didn’t seem to work.

So, last week after the wedding was over (but while my grandmother was still in town to help watch the kids for me – Thanks Grandma!!) I went back to the dermatologist with my newest spots, seeking help and yes, drugs!! He was, I’m sorry to say, less than helpful, and actually tried to send me away again with no medicine for my plight. I wanted to cry, but instead I begged him to please try one more dose of the steroids because I felt at this point the rash just wasn’t going away, and was dubious that the creams were going to do any lasting good. He finally agreed to write a prescription, but then told me to stay out of my yard for the rest of the summer and let my husband do all the gardening while I attended to the inside chores. Helpful.

While his bedside manner and overall doctoring left me wanting, his rather insensitive comment did motivate me to try and locate what might be causing this outbreak. We’d already checked our plant beds for the wicked poison ivy but had never found any. Now we asked others to look as well, hoping someone might have some experience with the actual plant, or perhaps another form of poisonous vegetation which would help us. Today, my friends, that someone appeared, and we are very grateful he did.

The hero of our story??? David C. Good friend and veteran poison ivy hunter and sufferer. And he, upon my request, looked over our front yard, and found the evil little vine, growing happily in one of our plant beds where I had ignorantly mulched just a few weeks before. In fact, I’d carefully mulched AROUND the vine, giving it an optimum environment to grow and thrive (and yes, keep aflicting me)!! HAHAHA!!

David’s discovery of the actual plant has given me hope. Because until now we really weren’t certain where I was getting this poison ivy from, or even if it was poison ivy. Now that I know what is causing my itch, I shall wisely stay far away. This afternoon my husband went out armed with massive amounts of weed killer and obliterated the poison ivy, as well as everything in and around that nasty vine, hopefully eradicating the cause of my sufferings. He has promised to continue to fight the good fight again my plant foe, in hopes of preserving me from future itchings. And he has requested that I wait until next season to replant that particular bed with English Ivy (which was my master plan, folks), just to see that the danger has passed. So I guess a project has been lifted from my task list, at least for the time being.

After five days on this newest round of prednisone, I am still itching a lot more than I’d like. But I think things are calming down. I do hope perhaps the discovery today means that ultimately we’re seeing the end of the poison ivy for this summer. But I’ll do my best to be a bit more frequent with my blogging from here on out, so at least I can keep you all informed. Thanks for reading!!

Tricia versus the spider redux

IMG_3515_small.jpgThose faithful readers who have been with us for awhile may recall an entry from 2002 in which we recounted Tricia’s chance meeting with a rather nasty spider while attempting to take dominion of the nursery laundry pile. Today while cleaning pots for this summer’s herb garden, she came across another spider. This is the way she tells her story:

As I brushed some accumulated dirt off of one of the pots I saw a rather large black spider clinging to the side of the pot. Its legs looked pretty shrivelled up but given its body size I figured I’d better be careful, especially since Abigail was right there with me. “I’m pretty sure this spider is dead, Abigail. What do you think?” I asked her. “Hmmmm…I don’t know Mommy, it looks alive to me.” After making sure she was far away from the spider and warning her not to touch it I got a plastic sandwich bag, donned my gardening gloves and proceeded to trap the spider inside said bag.

IMG_3516_small.jpgWhile we wanted to finish potting our herbs, we decided that we would first try to find a picture of our spider on the internet. The spider was black everywhere except for a red marking on its underside, so in an effort to identify my mystery spider I typed:

“black spider red dot”.

Imagine my consternation when the first search result on google looked like this:

Black Widow Spider Pictures
… Black Widow Spider (Latrodectus … The female black widow is shiny black with a red hourglass on abdomen … The red hourglass could take the form of a red dot or many … www.surviveoutdoors.com/reference/ spiders/black_widow.asp

The picture on that web site confirmed that we were not dealing with an average little garden spider. Upon further inspection of “my” spider’s red dot, I surmised that it was indeed in the shape of an hourglass. Oh, my. And I had just had my bare hands all over that pot, within easy reach of this venomous spider. Not to mention that Abigail had been nearby the entire time as well. Feeling thankful that we were both fine, I called Jay to tell him how I’d bravely apprehended the little creature, and when he arrived home a couple hours later he felt compelled to capture our Black Widow on film. Now we can share her loveliness with all of you, dear, gentle readers. And may I assure you that I will be more careful next time I see a black spider!

Trials with Toes

Life was getting dull around here (ha-ha), so I decided to stir up things a bit. It was perhaps a painful way to do it, but it has made things more interesting, to say the least. What exactly did I do, you ask?? Well, I broke my little pinky toe on my left foot: snapped it like a twig in fact.

You can pretty much be sure your toe is broken when after you stub it really hard, you look down to see it sticking out from your foot at a 65+ degree angle. How disheartening. It was enough to make me cry, more from sheer and utter frustration than pain, though the pain was certainly there too. I think the thing that was most annoying to me beside the obvious inconvenience is that I did the same exact thing to the pinky toe on my right foot five and a half years ago. That time the toe stuck out almost to a 90 degree angle and I broke it when I made contact in the wrong way with my dog’s leg. No, I did not kick the poor animal; I tripped on him!

When I broke the toe yesterday it was no amazing sports injury, just a bad interaction with a plastic Little Tikes slide that I tried to walk past too quickly and obviously, too closely! This time in the emergency room there were no numbing shots before the doctor manipulated my poor toe. I recalled from my last broken toe experience that the shots were much more painful than the break and was determined I would not allow the medical personnel to torture me in the same way again. Instead I opted for them to “set” the toe minus the anesthesia. Well…..that hurt……a bit.

The doctor tried to talk to me about staying off my feet but after I laughed and informed him that I am the Mommy of three children aged four and younger he just told me to do my best not to overdo it. And thanks to some wonderful help from some wonderful folk, life has gone on fairly smoothly. Jay, despite heavy work commitments and critical meetings and presentations all this week due to Nortel’s periodic User Groups, raced home immediately when I first called him to take me to the Emergency Room. What a blessing to have him with me throughout the most painful part of my ordeal. Mommy/Grammy Horne has helped tremendously with several aspects of child care and transportation to various activities, greatly supplementing in Jay’s unavoidable absences due to work. Our friend Kimberly took Abigail with her earlier today to do some grocery shopping for us and after she returned, she made lunch for all of us and saw that we were settled for naps. We had several additional offers of help which I actually turned down because we were really ok. So thanks to all of you who were ready and willing…how comforting and encouraging to know there are many people who care for us so tangibly.

As for me, after two seriously broken toes in a few years’ time, I am contemplating the wisdom of wearing shoes around the house from here on out, but have no firm plans toward that end. Sorry, Jay!!!