Well, I am two days past my 57th birthday and even as I write that it doesn't seem possible. It is weird to feel like you are in your 30's but have three children who are that age. When did they catch up with me? I have never had a birthday that bothered me, 40 didn't depress me and neither did 50 but I have to admit that 60 sounds ominous. I don't think I am going to like that one! It sounds like a grandma age--oh yeah I am one already!
The earliest memory I have is of being carried down the steps from the upstairs attic where I probably slept in the same room with my parents. I must have been really little and I remember the unpleasant feeling in my stomach as my mother walked quickly down the steps. I remember sleeping in a crib but then I was in one until I was about six years old, sleeping in it with the side down so that I could climb in and out. I remember one night I was in bed and my mother was in the same room (actually the attic in our Cape Cod on Emerald Road) in their double bed. I told her, "Don't tell Daddy I am awake. I am going to pretend I'm asleep." I guess she promised but then when my dad came up and got in bed she quietly told him, "Denise is pretending to be asleep. She told me not to tell you." Now that I am a parent I understand why she did that, she thought I was being cute. But at the time I felt betrayed and sad. I also remember bouncing a ball in my sister, Janet's bedroom, where I guess she was trying to do her homework (or maybe writing a note to her boyfriend--with a pen and paper, this was before IM). She got annoyed with me and fussed at me to get out of her room. The only other memory I have of my sisters living at home was a time my sister, Peggy stayed with me while my parents went on a trip to NYC. That is vague and mixed up with the time I got measles. I don't know if they happened at the same time but I remember thinking for the longest time that I got the measles from grease spattering on me from a hot skillet. I think that probably was because when I first started breaking out they thought that is what had happened, or maybe how they described what it looked like to someone. Funny the memories you keep in your brain. I am sure more important things happened that I don't remember at all.
School memories: My first teacher was my sister, Peggy, who taught kindergarten at Open Bible. At that time it was full day and we were considered very progressive as the public schools didn't offer kindergarten. Peggy was also a very progressive teacher, actually teaching us our letters and numbers and colors! I can still remember her holding up pieces of construction paper for us to give the correct color. I also remember that we had rest time in the afternoon on little blue cots. One day, Peggy had to leave the room for a few minutes while we were resting. I stood lookout while the rest of the kids got up and started bouncing on their cots. When I saw her coming back I hissed to everyone, "She's coming!" and we all lay back down like little angels! After that I went to Villa Cresta Elementary through 6th grade. In 3rd grade I had a little accident in my seat and the teacher publicly rebuked me and sent me to sit in the boiler room to dry. I was so bewildered, wandering around the hallway wondering where the boiler room was. The vice principal found me and asked what was wrong. I told her and she called my mom who brought me dry clothes. That vice principal was the sweetest lady. She knew every student by name and even years later, after I was married, I returned to the school with Carl to their annual Fiesta and when she saw me she knew me and greeted me by name! That day she made me feel so comforted and loved. I have a feeling that 3rd grade teacher heard from the vice principal. What a horrible thing to do to an 8 year old! I loved the 6th grade because they were trying something new. We changed classes instead of having the same teacher all day. My reading teacher was a man, I can't remember his name but at the end of the year he resigned to become a priest! I loved that class because we could go at our own pace, working through booklets and testing and then moving on to the next book. I loved that because I loved reading. Arithmetic was another story. I didn't do so well and again I had a teacher who was not understanding. At one point she made me stand up as she announced to the rest of the class the failing grade I had made. I think she thought she was encouraging me to do better by shaming me but it didn't work! I didn't like math until I got to Algebra. I loved it because it was like figuring out a puzzle. I always said it was numbers that confused me, letters I could understand!
One last funny story from grade school. Apparently, a boy in my class learned that my parents were older than most of the other classmates and that my sisters were teenagers when I was born. He teased me that I was a mistake and I went home crying, "Mommy, was I a mistake?" I remember her smiling and saying, "Oh no, honey you weren't a mistake. A surprise--but not a mistake." Then I was happy because after all surprises are good things, aren't they?
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Adventure with a Crab!
I wish I had a picture of this one--but sometimes even advid scrapbookers get caught up in the drama of the moment and don't think to grab a camera!
On Tuesday afternoon, before I got home from work, our next door neighbor, Rick, came over with a present for us. He had gone crabbing that afternoon and wanted to share his bounty. When we arrived home Shawn asked each of us if we liked crabs. Bill answered in the affirmative and I answered in the negative. Shawn asked if I had ever tasted a crab and actually I have only tasted crab cakes, not steamed crabs. I never could get past the nastiness of the process of picking them, having watched my father as a child and being repulsed by the sight and smell of it. Then Shawn pointed to a bag in a corner of the kitchen and told us of Rick's present. I said I wouldn't even have any idea how to steam crabs and Shawn proudly started reciting the process. It seems Rick had even been so kind as to share his recipe. Bill and I looked at each other and then he said, "I'll put them on the porch and take them to school tomorrow." We decided we should call my sister, Janet, who was coming the next day and see if she would like to have them. Well, that was actually the last time I thought about the crabs in the bag on the porch until last night. Bill and I were watching a movie and during a commercial I decided I should take Oliver out for a quick visit to the yard before putting him to bed for the night. We have a light on the back porch with a motion detector so it doesn't come on until you actually step out onto the porch. I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch and stopped dead in my tracks when the light came on and let out a surprised yelp. Just inches from my bare toe was a very feisty crab waving his pinchers at me threateningly! Bill heard my yelp and came to rescue me. I do wish I had grabbed the camera because it was very entertaining watching Bill (from behind the screen door) trying to grab the crab without getting pinched! He secured them but the next time I took Oliver out (I decided to wait until the next commercial--when my heart rate was back to normal) I was a little apprehensive and waved my foot out the door to get the light on before venturing out. All was clear as Bill had moved the crabs to a cooler and secured them by placing a bucket on top. They were gone this morning so I guess he took them to school. Anyone interested in some crabs for supper?
Over breakfast this morning I told Dad about my encounter with the crab. He laughed heartily and then told me about a Emerald Road neighbor of ours, Mr. Rogers, and his experience steaming crabs. Apparently the lid of his pot was not secure and a crab escaped causing him to chase it around the kitchen. That led to another story about crabbing with Mr. Rogers. Apparently you can set five traps without a license which they did. However, the professional crabbers didn't like them infringing on their territory and would actually try to swamp their boat! He said they learned which areas to avoid.
He went on the share how he had stayed in a boarding house in Dundalk when he first came to Baltimore. That being an area where much of the population was Catholic, no meat was served in this boarding house on Fridays. He remembers that they mostly had oysters and they were very generous with them. He apparently thought this was wonderful but it doesn't sound appealing to me. I am, sadly, not much of a seafood lover, although I loved when my mother fried fish fillets. But my mother could fry anything and make it taste divine!
I shared with Dad that the only seafood I had ever tasted that I loved was shrimp. On the night of Parkville Sr. High's 1968 senior ball a group of us went to Jade East Restaurant in Towson. (Sadly, it is no longer there. It is the place where Bill proposed to me, presenting the ring just as the waiter arrived to ask if we wanted dessert. He made a hasty retreat when he saw what was happening!) Anyway, the restaurant brought out a tiered tray with all sorts of appetizers before the meal. There was one appetizer in particular that I was drawn to--again and again. I kept remarking how good it was and made a pig of myself. I had no idea what I was eating but many years later, after we had been married a few years, we were visiting friends and somehow the conversation got around to shrimp. I said that I had never tasted shrimp. Bill gave me a little half smile and said that indeed I had. Then he told me that those appetizers I had loved at Jade East had been some kind of battered and fried shrimp. When I asked him why he had not told me (because I was very conscious of following the Old Testament food laws), he answered that he didn't have the heart to tell me because I was enjoying them so much! Dad roared at that story also! Then he told me that when I was little and he was working for Gaines & Boutz (this was several years before Dad and Lee Gaines started their own company), he was sent by Mr. Boutz to Wilmington, Delaware for a job that was to last a few days. He ended up being their for almost a year and only came home on weekends. But he said there was a restaurant in Wilmington that served shrimp cocktails that were very good, although he had them rarely because they were rather costly.
For some reason I now have a craving for fried shrimp. Go figure! (But I'm still not steaming those crabs.)
On Tuesday afternoon, before I got home from work, our next door neighbor, Rick, came over with a present for us. He had gone crabbing that afternoon and wanted to share his bounty. When we arrived home Shawn asked each of us if we liked crabs. Bill answered in the affirmative and I answered in the negative. Shawn asked if I had ever tasted a crab and actually I have only tasted crab cakes, not steamed crabs. I never could get past the nastiness of the process of picking them, having watched my father as a child and being repulsed by the sight and smell of it. Then Shawn pointed to a bag in a corner of the kitchen and told us of Rick's present. I said I wouldn't even have any idea how to steam crabs and Shawn proudly started reciting the process. It seems Rick had even been so kind as to share his recipe. Bill and I looked at each other and then he said, "I'll put them on the porch and take them to school tomorrow." We decided we should call my sister, Janet, who was coming the next day and see if she would like to have them. Well, that was actually the last time I thought about the crabs in the bag on the porch until last night. Bill and I were watching a movie and during a commercial I decided I should take Oliver out for a quick visit to the yard before putting him to bed for the night. We have a light on the back porch with a motion detector so it doesn't come on until you actually step out onto the porch. I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch and stopped dead in my tracks when the light came on and let out a surprised yelp. Just inches from my bare toe was a very feisty crab waving his pinchers at me threateningly! Bill heard my yelp and came to rescue me. I do wish I had grabbed the camera because it was very entertaining watching Bill (from behind the screen door) trying to grab the crab without getting pinched! He secured them but the next time I took Oliver out (I decided to wait until the next commercial--when my heart rate was back to normal) I was a little apprehensive and waved my foot out the door to get the light on before venturing out. All was clear as Bill had moved the crabs to a cooler and secured them by placing a bucket on top. They were gone this morning so I guess he took them to school. Anyone interested in some crabs for supper?
Over breakfast this morning I told Dad about my encounter with the crab. He laughed heartily and then told me about a Emerald Road neighbor of ours, Mr. Rogers, and his experience steaming crabs. Apparently the lid of his pot was not secure and a crab escaped causing him to chase it around the kitchen. That led to another story about crabbing with Mr. Rogers. Apparently you can set five traps without a license which they did. However, the professional crabbers didn't like them infringing on their territory and would actually try to swamp their boat! He said they learned which areas to avoid.
He went on the share how he had stayed in a boarding house in Dundalk when he first came to Baltimore. That being an area where much of the population was Catholic, no meat was served in this boarding house on Fridays. He remembers that they mostly had oysters and they were very generous with them. He apparently thought this was wonderful but it doesn't sound appealing to me. I am, sadly, not much of a seafood lover, although I loved when my mother fried fish fillets. But my mother could fry anything and make it taste divine!
I shared with Dad that the only seafood I had ever tasted that I loved was shrimp. On the night of Parkville Sr. High's 1968 senior ball a group of us went to Jade East Restaurant in Towson. (Sadly, it is no longer there. It is the place where Bill proposed to me, presenting the ring just as the waiter arrived to ask if we wanted dessert. He made a hasty retreat when he saw what was happening!) Anyway, the restaurant brought out a tiered tray with all sorts of appetizers before the meal. There was one appetizer in particular that I was drawn to--again and again. I kept remarking how good it was and made a pig of myself. I had no idea what I was eating but many years later, after we had been married a few years, we were visiting friends and somehow the conversation got around to shrimp. I said that I had never tasted shrimp. Bill gave me a little half smile and said that indeed I had. Then he told me that those appetizers I had loved at Jade East had been some kind of battered and fried shrimp. When I asked him why he had not told me (because I was very conscious of following the Old Testament food laws), he answered that he didn't have the heart to tell me because I was enjoying them so much! Dad roared at that story also! Then he told me that when I was little and he was working for Gaines & Boutz (this was several years before Dad and Lee Gaines started their own company), he was sent by Mr. Boutz to Wilmington, Delaware for a job that was to last a few days. He ended up being their for almost a year and only came home on weekends. But he said there was a restaurant in Wilmington that served shrimp cocktails that were very good, although he had them rarely because they were rather costly.
For some reason I now have a craving for fried shrimp. Go figure! (But I'm still not steaming those crabs.)
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
More Popdaddy Memories
This morning I was home and was able to sit and have a leisurely visit with Dad over a donut and coffee (for him), tea (for me). He was in a mood to think back and it is incredible how he can remember towns he lived in and even correct dates. What a marvelous organ is the brain God gave us!
He started talking about coming to work for a company here in Baltimore during the war. Sometime in the early 50's I guess a young guy who had been working for the company for about five years came to him with a proposal. He had been working for the company in order to learn the business well before getting his own company started. He wanted my Dad to come with him. He offered him either the option of being an employee or a partner if he wanted to put some money in the company. He said, "You know your mother and I had always been conservative in our spending, so I had a little money saved." He decided to invest in the company. He has told me before how nervous he was about that venture but God blessed it and enabled him to make a good living. He laughed and said that he worked hard to start that company. When it started he drove the bulldozer and supervised the job and then after dropping the men who worked for them at the "car line" (streetcar) went back and operated the backhoe to fill in the ditch. I feel so lazy after hearing Dad's stories--what diligent, hard-working people my parents were! And how blessed that I had some a comfortable life because of their hard work.
Dad then started thinking back to working in a town near Punxatawney, PA. They moved around a lot, often in boarding houses and this time they rented a bedroom with kitchen privileges in the home of a family. My dad had a 1939 Studebaker at the time and they had their possessions tied to the top when they pulled up to the house. The grown daughter of that family lived next door and later told Dad that she was worried that gypsies were at her parents house. In this home was a telephone switchboard that the mistress of the home operated. One day she had to go out and asked my mother to operate it. (This was in 1939-40 so my sisters were about 5 or 6 and 3 years old at the time.) One of the calls she had to connect was a farmer calling the veterinarian. The line wasn't very clear so mother had to convey information back and forth from the farmer to the vet and back. In this way she helped the farmer deliver a new calf! Dad then laughed and told me about a time that mother was calling the grocery store to order supplies. They were on a party line and mother could hear other people picking up the line to listen in. Mother said, "It's okay, you can hang up. I'm only ordering groceries." That reminded Dad of how feisty my mother was and he remembered that people in that little Pennsylvania town thought my mother's Virginia bred mountain accent funny. One little Jewish lady told my mother one day, "Don't worry, honey. When you have lived here long enough you will sound just like us." My mother shot back, "Well, I hope I don't live here that long!" Mother was never shy about telling people just what she thought!
Thinking about cars, Dad remembered how scared he was when on a trip one time with Mother and my two sisters who were about 6 and 9 at the time. The doors of cars at that time opened the opposite way that today's cars do and as they were driving, my sister Janet must have been playing with the door handle and it swung open. Dad said he saw a glimpse of it opening and Janet flying out onto the road. (This was way before seatbelts were thought of.) He went back and found her, very nervous about what he would find. Of course, my sister, Peggy, who saw her sister flying out the car door, was now hysterical. There must have been angels protecting her that day because she only suffered a broken collar bone.
We then went on to a discussion of the merits and disadvantages of seatbelts and our opinions about whether government has the right to legislate their use. I sometimes forget my dad is almost 96 years old. He still is very much a logical thinking person with definite opinions. I am so grateful for his wisdom and his presence in our home.
He started talking about coming to work for a company here in Baltimore during the war. Sometime in the early 50's I guess a young guy who had been working for the company for about five years came to him with a proposal. He had been working for the company in order to learn the business well before getting his own company started. He wanted my Dad to come with him. He offered him either the option of being an employee or a partner if he wanted to put some money in the company. He said, "You know your mother and I had always been conservative in our spending, so I had a little money saved." He decided to invest in the company. He has told me before how nervous he was about that venture but God blessed it and enabled him to make a good living. He laughed and said that he worked hard to start that company. When it started he drove the bulldozer and supervised the job and then after dropping the men who worked for them at the "car line" (streetcar) went back and operated the backhoe to fill in the ditch. I feel so lazy after hearing Dad's stories--what diligent, hard-working people my parents were! And how blessed that I had some a comfortable life because of their hard work.
Dad then started thinking back to working in a town near Punxatawney, PA. They moved around a lot, often in boarding houses and this time they rented a bedroom with kitchen privileges in the home of a family. My dad had a 1939 Studebaker at the time and they had their possessions tied to the top when they pulled up to the house. The grown daughter of that family lived next door and later told Dad that she was worried that gypsies were at her parents house. In this home was a telephone switchboard that the mistress of the home operated. One day she had to go out and asked my mother to operate it. (This was in 1939-40 so my sisters were about 5 or 6 and 3 years old at the time.) One of the calls she had to connect was a farmer calling the veterinarian. The line wasn't very clear so mother had to convey information back and forth from the farmer to the vet and back. In this way she helped the farmer deliver a new calf! Dad then laughed and told me about a time that mother was calling the grocery store to order supplies. They were on a party line and mother could hear other people picking up the line to listen in. Mother said, "It's okay, you can hang up. I'm only ordering groceries." That reminded Dad of how feisty my mother was and he remembered that people in that little Pennsylvania town thought my mother's Virginia bred mountain accent funny. One little Jewish lady told my mother one day, "Don't worry, honey. When you have lived here long enough you will sound just like us." My mother shot back, "Well, I hope I don't live here that long!" Mother was never shy about telling people just what she thought!
Thinking about cars, Dad remembered how scared he was when on a trip one time with Mother and my two sisters who were about 6 and 9 at the time. The doors of cars at that time opened the opposite way that today's cars do and as they were driving, my sister Janet must have been playing with the door handle and it swung open. Dad said he saw a glimpse of it opening and Janet flying out onto the road. (This was way before seatbelts were thought of.) He went back and found her, very nervous about what he would find. Of course, my sister, Peggy, who saw her sister flying out the car door, was now hysterical. There must have been angels protecting her that day because she only suffered a broken collar bone.
We then went on to a discussion of the merits and disadvantages of seatbelts and our opinions about whether government has the right to legislate their use. I sometimes forget my dad is almost 96 years old. He still is very much a logical thinking person with definite opinions. I am so grateful for his wisdom and his presence in our home.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Morning Musings
This morning I awoke at 6:00 a.m. in time to say good-bye to my hubby. It was wonderful, a beautiful morning so I took Oliver (the new puppy) out on the porch, had a little playtime with him and settled down with my Bible. I was feeling a little overwhelmed with my "to do" list, I think feeling a little cheated that I had so many "non fun" things to do on my day off work and feeling convicted of my ungratefulness at the same time. As I sat there trying to get into praise mode it hit me out of the blue how different I am from my mother. She was a work horse and I'm sure never got down with all the things she had to do; she seemed to love the grocery shopping (even going there to browse when she didn't really have anything she needed to buy), cooking meals for her family or anyone who dropped by or had a need and just piddling around doing "stuff" around the house. And it came to me how much different her childhood was than mine. Her mother gave birth to eleven children, only eight surviving childhood. Her mother was very sick and my mom pretty much raised the last two or three of her siblings. She told me one time that she had to cook meals for the family (on a wood cookstove, with no indoor plumbing) at such a young age that she had to push a chair to the stove so that she could reach the pots! And this wasn't just helping mommy in the kitchen, this was being in charge of feeding a large family. She had to drop out of school in the 8th grade and told me once that they were just starting to teach Algebra (this was in a one room schoolhouse) and she had really found that interesting and was disappointed not to continue with it. She never owned a doll until she was an adult and probably had little time to play. Contrast that with my childhood. I was the third child but raised almost like an only because my sisters were teenagers before I came along. I came at a time in my parent's life that they were finally financially comfortable, had purchased a home for the first time and they doted on me. My mom never gave me many chores to do because she said she wanted me to have a childhood (I am tearing up as I write this). When I got married I didn't have a clue how to shop or clean a house for that reason but I had a wonderful childhood! No wonder my mother loved doing the things she did--it was all she knew and it must have seemed like a vacation after the way she was raised. Supermarkets with large varieties of everything, automatic washers (although she never owned one until after I was married but always used a laundromat), electric vacuum cleaner, hot and cold running water and a car to take her anywhere she wanted to go. Suddenly, I have a different perspective on my life and how grateful I should be for the ease I have and the joy it should be to serve my family and make a comfortable place for them.
By the time I finished my Bible reading and prayer time, Popdaddy was stirring and I went in to have breakfast with him. What a joy that was. He was in a mood to travel down memory lane and I am going to take the opportunity to tell his story so that it is recorded. I told him of the trip we are planning in October to take Carl's kids camping on a lake near them. We started talking about swimming on the lake and how much the kids enjoy it. He started reminiscing about going swimming as a boy with his brother at a swimming hole in Lucasville. And then he told of living in Buena Vista, Ohio (about 20 miles from Portsmouth) on a bluff over the Ohio River. There was a houseboat tied up to the shore and he and his brother, Charles, loved to dive off the houseboat into the river. However, this was strictly forbidden by his mother and unfortunately for the boys she had a good view of the river from the house since it was situated on a bluff. And also unfortunately there were willow branches nearby which she used liberally when she caught her boys disobeying. Popdaddy said that, willow branches not withstanding, diving off that houseboat was just too much fun to resist. Then he told of a showboat that would come to that area every summer and was the highlight of the season to all the kids, although he didn't think they got to see very many shows as there was an admission price. He also told of getting a ride across the river one day on a boat with his brother by the postman making his run to pick up mail from the train. Somehow the postman forgot about them and they were left there all day until he came back for his afternoon run. Popdaddy said that he and his brother thought they were starving and raided a farmer's corn field and ate raw corn! He told me how the mail was picked up. A bag of mail was placed on a arm that extended over the track and as the train came by it dropped onto the train. The mail to be delivered to that town was tossed off the train and onto the platform.
What a different life my parents led! I am grateful that I had the opportunity to visit their farms as a child. I got a glimpse of how life was in "the olden days" by having to bathe in a metal tub, pump water from a pump in the yard, use an outhouse during the day and a chamber pot for those calls of nature in the middle of the night. But my favorite memory was having no toys to play with--that didn't seem to bother me at the farm. I can remember going outside and digging moss and pretending it was all sorts of pretend foods and setting up house under their big pine tree, using Grandma Whitten's broom to sweep the pine needles, using them to make a pretend bed. I loved to walk down the hill to the road and wait for the postman to bring the mail. And I loved to bring the farm cats into the house (much to my grandmothers chagrin--but she was a grandma and so allowed me to do that, although she thought it was funny that I wanted to.
Ahhh, memories! I go into my day of washing clothes in my electric washing machine, vacuuming with my electric vacuum cleaner and driving to the store in my gas powered car with a much different attitude. Thank you, Lord!
By the time I finished my Bible reading and prayer time, Popdaddy was stirring and I went in to have breakfast with him. What a joy that was. He was in a mood to travel down memory lane and I am going to take the opportunity to tell his story so that it is recorded. I told him of the trip we are planning in October to take Carl's kids camping on a lake near them. We started talking about swimming on the lake and how much the kids enjoy it. He started reminiscing about going swimming as a boy with his brother at a swimming hole in Lucasville. And then he told of living in Buena Vista, Ohio (about 20 miles from Portsmouth) on a bluff over the Ohio River. There was a houseboat tied up to the shore and he and his brother, Charles, loved to dive off the houseboat into the river. However, this was strictly forbidden by his mother and unfortunately for the boys she had a good view of the river from the house since it was situated on a bluff. And also unfortunately there were willow branches nearby which she used liberally when she caught her boys disobeying. Popdaddy said that, willow branches not withstanding, diving off that houseboat was just too much fun to resist. Then he told of a showboat that would come to that area every summer and was the highlight of the season to all the kids, although he didn't think they got to see very many shows as there was an admission price. He also told of getting a ride across the river one day on a boat with his brother by the postman making his run to pick up mail from the train. Somehow the postman forgot about them and they were left there all day until he came back for his afternoon run. Popdaddy said that he and his brother thought they were starving and raided a farmer's corn field and ate raw corn! He told me how the mail was picked up. A bag of mail was placed on a arm that extended over the track and as the train came by it dropped onto the train. The mail to be delivered to that town was tossed off the train and onto the platform.
What a different life my parents led! I am grateful that I had the opportunity to visit their farms as a child. I got a glimpse of how life was in "the olden days" by having to bathe in a metal tub, pump water from a pump in the yard, use an outhouse during the day and a chamber pot for those calls of nature in the middle of the night. But my favorite memory was having no toys to play with--that didn't seem to bother me at the farm. I can remember going outside and digging moss and pretending it was all sorts of pretend foods and setting up house under their big pine tree, using Grandma Whitten's broom to sweep the pine needles, using them to make a pretend bed. I loved to walk down the hill to the road and wait for the postman to bring the mail. And I loved to bring the farm cats into the house (much to my grandmothers chagrin--but she was a grandma and so allowed me to do that, although she thought it was funny that I wanted to.
Ahhh, memories! I go into my day of washing clothes in my electric washing machine, vacuuming with my electric vacuum cleaner and driving to the store in my gas powered car with a much different attitude. Thank you, Lord!
Monday, September 3, 2007
Summer is Over
Well, summer is over and it is time to get back in a routine. I only worked three half days a week this summer but somehow I didn't manage to get much done at home either! I am making a note to myself to make a routine for myself in the summer. The most frustrating thing was how hard it was to get my quiet time with the Lord in. During the school year I have to get up at 5:30 in order to have time with the Lord before leaving, but somehow in the summer, even though I leave at least an hour later, I struggled getting that in. But we did manage to get in two camping trips this summer. Ryan was able to go with us once and the second time Carl and Kimberly were able to meet us and spend the night tent camping with us. It was a joy to take Carl's kids camping at the campground that we always enjoyed going as a family when their dad was growing up. Carl was able to show them places where he enjoyed having adventures. Since it was their first time on a mountain it was fun to see their first reactions to looking down from the height of a mountain overlook. Alex especially was excited about that.Other joys of the summer were sitting on the front porch enjoying the view with my dad. On August 12 we celebrated his first year anniversary living here with us. It has been a blessing to have this opportunity to grow closer to him and to here all his memories--and he has a bunch!
NiNi Camp is always the high point of my summer and this year was no different although it came during a stressful time. Dad was not doing well physically, struggling with a viral infection in his lungs and was two weak to get out of bed most of the two weeks that Carl's children were visiting. I wasn't able to relax and enjoy the grandchildren to the usual extent because of my concern for Dad.
But now it is time to concentrate on the year ahead. I am resolved to get back in God's Word on a daily basis and spend time with Him before all else. Also resolved to get back into household routines, especially spending time in my "zones" each week to keep from getting overwhelmed with things to do. And then there is making the time to exercise and try again to get this weight off, a continual discouragement to me.
I am reminded that God is still sovereign and nothing is out of His control, that He has all wisdom and freely shares it with me if I will just ask and that His love is perfect, even when mine is not.
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