Hit a bump. One that I have to laugh about, but at the same time, praise God for the opportunity to share God's love with someone who seems very lonely.
A Linked In message came last night. Very complimentary. Alarm bells went off. Along with lots of laughter. Who'd be interested in a 70 year old great grandmother who's been very happily married for more than 50 years?
My first step when a guy shows an interest in me is to ignore it. Mostly because I can't believe it. I'm well aware that men can turn a situation into "He said, she said" in a heartbeat and I don't want the hassle. It also expresses a loneliness in them that makes me feel sorry for them.
Debbie Macomber talked about her messages from guys in prison. Jill Briscoe said if a guy has never hit on you, "Don't worry, someone will." The amazing part of that is she's a pastor's wife.
Second message came this morning with the question, "Are you married?" I can't play dumb on that one. So I told him I'm a happily married 70 year old great-grandmother, but my first love is the love of God. Hope he got the message.
Monday, September 29, 2014
My baby!
Today is our son Dan's 46th birthday. My baby! My six foot whatever. He says 6'4", his dad says 6'5", and I say 6'6". He's a big guy. And a wonderful one. His life has been quite a journey and we're button busting proud of him.
Of course, you realize, the years between our ages are getting smaller all the time. How could I become a mother at such a young age? I'm getting so old, I can't own up to my age when I had my first son, let alone my second. Let's just say I was a child bride (NOT) and move on to other subjects. The day may come when they'll admit to being older than me. Not saying I intend to lie about my age, but...
We don't get to see Dan's family very often. They're in Tulsa and we're in Florida, but we did have a grand time with them last December when Bob and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. For those of you who've seen my daughter-in-law's Facebook, or get my Christmas letter, you'll see pictures. I would here, but still haven't learned how.
Dan's the one who encouraged me to get involved with Facebook. Tina tried, but I soon gave it up. Seemed ridiculous to me, but Dan said when he joined classmates started popping up all over the place. The older I get, the more I enjoy memory lane, so I was convinced to rejoin. Trouble is, so many people my age are retired and have no desire to engage in electronic media, so I haven't found a whole lot of classmates.
Have made some wonderful acquaintances all over the rest of the world, though. Kenya, Africa; Bolivia, South America; West Virginia, USA. That much has been great. And humbling. Everyone is so good at this stuff and I'm still stumbling along, huffing and puffing, trying to catch up. Never happen. What I learned today was obsolete years ago.
Uh oh. Spoke too soon. I've been gratefully bragging on the topical cream that's kept my fire ant bites from itching. It may have just delayed it. The desire to scratch just hit with a vengeance.
Anyway, a very, very happy birthday, Dear Dan. And many, many more to come even if it does tell on your mother's old age. Love you, Son.
Of course, you realize, the years between our ages are getting smaller all the time. How could I become a mother at such a young age? I'm getting so old, I can't own up to my age when I had my first son, let alone my second. Let's just say I was a child bride (NOT) and move on to other subjects. The day may come when they'll admit to being older than me. Not saying I intend to lie about my age, but...
We don't get to see Dan's family very often. They're in Tulsa and we're in Florida, but we did have a grand time with them last December when Bob and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. For those of you who've seen my daughter-in-law's Facebook, or get my Christmas letter, you'll see pictures. I would here, but still haven't learned how.
Dan's the one who encouraged me to get involved with Facebook. Tina tried, but I soon gave it up. Seemed ridiculous to me, but Dan said when he joined classmates started popping up all over the place. The older I get, the more I enjoy memory lane, so I was convinced to rejoin. Trouble is, so many people my age are retired and have no desire to engage in electronic media, so I haven't found a whole lot of classmates.
Have made some wonderful acquaintances all over the rest of the world, though. Kenya, Africa; Bolivia, South America; West Virginia, USA. That much has been great. And humbling. Everyone is so good at this stuff and I'm still stumbling along, huffing and puffing, trying to catch up. Never happen. What I learned today was obsolete years ago.
Uh oh. Spoke too soon. I've been gratefully bragging on the topical cream that's kept my fire ant bites from itching. It may have just delayed it. The desire to scratch just hit with a vengeance.
Anyway, a very, very happy birthday, Dear Dan. And many, many more to come even if it does tell on your mother's old age. Love you, Son.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Continuing down Memory Lane
Sharon tells me Pittsburgh is doing something to reclaim the land that once was stripped of its beauty for the coal that was beneath. Congratulations, Pittsburgh! And, they're doing it in my backyard-so to speak.
When I was a young girl, Dad made his living by operating a steam shovel, tearing open the side of hills to get at the coal. Why those shovels were used at night is a mystery, but coming home from church after dark we would sometimes see a bright light coming from a sparsely populated area. Before long, we could see the shovel. I remember Dad once telling me about working at night when his big scoop did more than rip open the side of the hill. He also opened a den of copperheads. I doubt he was in any danger, but it did startle him, I'm sure.
This morning, I browsed the web site for the Pittsburgh Botanic Garden and was amazed at the ingenuity of some people. Instead of carrying signs and making loud noises or talking through their hat just because they're rich and famous, there are people in Pittsburgh who are doing something worthwhile. Building a botanic garden on reclaimed land.
What's so unusual about that? It's the only one of it's kind in the world, for starters, but the amazing thing is they've managed to clean up the waters that for decades have been polluted by mine run off. Chartiers Creek runs through my home town. All the years I was growing up, it was orange from mining pollution. I could never really ice skate on it because all the chemicals kept the creek from completely freezing over. About the only place it would freeze was under bridges where the sun couldn't melt it. Now, there is a procedure that returns the water to a natural ph balance that will sustain natural vegetation. Beautiful.
Dad also told me when he was a boy he and his friends would take baking potatoes when they went out to play. Step one was to wrap the potato in clay pulled from the creek bank. Then, they'd build a fire and when it died down, they'd bury the clay covered potato in ashes and go off to play for an hour. Lunch or snack would be those baked potatoes. Anyone who tried that in my day would suffer dire consequences from the chemicals that turned the creek bottom orange.
Our fifth grade class did a large mural of downtown. Before we finished, the creek that we'd painted blue had to be changed. We'd never seen clear water in that creek. Now, the water is in the process of being returned to it's natural, healthy state. Anyone who lives in or who visits Pittsburgh can enjoy nature in a way that brings back memories-wonderful memories of riding my bike through that area, or walking under the canopy of trees. So peaceful, refreshing, calming.
Shout it from the rooftops, Pittsburgh. You've done a wonderful thing and perhaps others will have the good sense to follow.
When I was a young girl, Dad made his living by operating a steam shovel, tearing open the side of hills to get at the coal. Why those shovels were used at night is a mystery, but coming home from church after dark we would sometimes see a bright light coming from a sparsely populated area. Before long, we could see the shovel. I remember Dad once telling me about working at night when his big scoop did more than rip open the side of the hill. He also opened a den of copperheads. I doubt he was in any danger, but it did startle him, I'm sure.
This morning, I browsed the web site for the Pittsburgh Botanic Garden and was amazed at the ingenuity of some people. Instead of carrying signs and making loud noises or talking through their hat just because they're rich and famous, there are people in Pittsburgh who are doing something worthwhile. Building a botanic garden on reclaimed land.
What's so unusual about that? It's the only one of it's kind in the world, for starters, but the amazing thing is they've managed to clean up the waters that for decades have been polluted by mine run off. Chartiers Creek runs through my home town. All the years I was growing up, it was orange from mining pollution. I could never really ice skate on it because all the chemicals kept the creek from completely freezing over. About the only place it would freeze was under bridges where the sun couldn't melt it. Now, there is a procedure that returns the water to a natural ph balance that will sustain natural vegetation. Beautiful.
Dad also told me when he was a boy he and his friends would take baking potatoes when they went out to play. Step one was to wrap the potato in clay pulled from the creek bank. Then, they'd build a fire and when it died down, they'd bury the clay covered potato in ashes and go off to play for an hour. Lunch or snack would be those baked potatoes. Anyone who tried that in my day would suffer dire consequences from the chemicals that turned the creek bottom orange.
Our fifth grade class did a large mural of downtown. Before we finished, the creek that we'd painted blue had to be changed. We'd never seen clear water in that creek. Now, the water is in the process of being returned to it's natural, healthy state. Anyone who lives in or who visits Pittsburgh can enjoy nature in a way that brings back memories-wonderful memories of riding my bike through that area, or walking under the canopy of trees. So peaceful, refreshing, calming.
Shout it from the rooftops, Pittsburgh. You've done a wonderful thing and perhaps others will have the good sense to follow.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Homesick
Can you still get homesick after being away most of your life? Don't know about you, but I can and do. I grew up in a small town located in the hills of Pennsylvania, where the seasons changed so beautifully. After I married, I spent a total of 5 years out of fifty in the vicinity of my youth.
There were several more years spent in places that had the change of seasons, such as Germany, (27 months), Steubenville, Ohio, (41 months), 46 months in Chicago, 10 months in Long Branch, New Jersey, 10 months in Pottstown, PA, 1 year in Denver, and 6 years, 10 months in Rolla, Missouri. And, while I appreciated the change of seasons in each, there's no place quite like home. Excluding Steubenville, which was close to home, 14 out of 50 years were spent where seasons changed. The rest was high desert or tropical, which, by the way, has it's beauties, too.
My friend, Jeanne, must miss it, too. She goes back every so often. But then, she lives in New Mexico and the change of seasons there is not quite like the ones in PA. Not sure Bettyann will feel that way when she moves. Her aunt once said our town was a good place to be from. In the 33 moves I've made, I can't say any ever replaced that special spot in my heart that my home town and its people still hold.
In fact, an email from the longest friendship in my life is what sparked my trip down memory lane. Sharon and I once tried to remember when we first met. We can't. We were too young. Our fathers and grandfathers knew each other, so our relationship goes a long way back. I remember walking down to visit our second grade teacher, Mrs. Pendleton. Such a lovely, lovely lady. Always gave us flowers from her garden.
Not everyone was lovely, though. Bettyann and I were laughing about the behavior of some of our neighbors and yes, our home town had an underbelly, but I just found out the very, very upscale community not too far to my south has one that is worse. Ours was just a bunch of drunken neighbor men who met the screaming wrath of their wives with equally loud shouting at a time when the rest of the neighborhood would rather be asleep. People are going to be people, no matter where you go. When I heard of some of the goings on in the town I now live close to, I praised God He did not allow me to stoop to some of the things that have been done to acquire riches and power.
I lived across the street from a Boy's Industrial Home. The home started as an orphanage. Over the years, the state began to house boys there who'd been in some sort of trouble. Petty stuff, but breaking the law, none the less. In all the years we lived there, we only had one break in, never locked our doors unless we were going to be gone for several days.
The boy who broke in stole stupid stuff that we rarely or never used. For example, I questioned what I'd done with my new wallet, thinking I hadn't placed it that drawer after all. The police brought it back. Likewise, a box of band aids my dad accused my brothers and me of wasting. When Frankie crawled out a window, a neighbor caught him. His excuse was that he was looking for his baseball. Poor kid. Learned what happened to my wallet, but wonder what happened to him. His antics were nothing compared to what some will do for riches and power.
Maybe I'm just hankering for the quiet, peaceful days of the 1950's, where Moms stayed home, and neighbors wouldn't allow us to get away with anything, but at the same time, allowed us to be kids. Sassing, bulling, fighting, vandalism was stopped in its tracks-and then parents were informed. Running through yards to play hide and seek would just bring a smile. "Have a good time, kids," my mom would say, "but don't get hurt." Jeanne and I could walk downtown at 10:00PM to get her mother an ice cream cone from Jones' without a second thought of safety. Today, kids are being snatched from their front yards in broad daylight.
I was thirteen when my friends and I rode the bus to downtown Pittsburgh to shop-unaccompanied by an adult. There was one bus drive that acted a little too frisky, but we laughed at him.
People weren't so uptight then. Not nearly so angry. If the game of one upmandship was played it was far too subtle for me to notice. Some people had more money than others, but who cared? Lawsuits between neighbors were unheard of and backfired when tried. I remember cutting my foot on a screw on Sharon's metal wading pool. Her mother put some blue medication and a band aid on it. That night, Sharon's dad removed the screw. End of story.
In Spring, we flew kites, and picked forget-me-not's in the field up the hill from our homes. Mud from thawing dirt streets made a mess, but everyone had the same mess. No big deal. In summer, we waited downtown for the school bus that would take us to the one pool several miles away. One car per family in those days. Once in a while, Sharon's or Connie's mother would take us to all the way South Park where there was another pool. Different families would go on vacation at different times over the summer. Those still at home would find other friends or some outdoor pursuit (catching lightening bugs, picking blackberries) to keep us busy and out of trouble.
Autumn, ah, autumn. When the frost would remove the chlorophyll and the Lord would reveal His awesome creativity in the spectacular colors of the leaves underneath. Back to school and the beginning of wearing sweaters. Going to footballs games. Dad always said, "Have a good time, but act like a lady." Sorry, Dad, but cheering for my team was not ladylike.
Winter. Snow, sled rides, ice skating, Christmas. Lights, lots of lights and icicles on the Christmas trees. Hearing Christmas carols in every store from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve. Bob could never understand why I wanted to decorate for Christmas the way I did. Until we moved to Steubenville and he saw I wasn't nearly as gung ho as the rest of the community.
Even the bitter cold of January and February was special. There's something invigorating about a very cold day, even when the sun is shining. By March, the cold was beginning to lose the battle with the sun returning from its winter vacation. Each season brought anticipation, each had a time of excitement. And, yes, I still miss it.
There were several more years spent in places that had the change of seasons, such as Germany, (27 months), Steubenville, Ohio, (41 months), 46 months in Chicago, 10 months in Long Branch, New Jersey, 10 months in Pottstown, PA, 1 year in Denver, and 6 years, 10 months in Rolla, Missouri. And, while I appreciated the change of seasons in each, there's no place quite like home. Excluding Steubenville, which was close to home, 14 out of 50 years were spent where seasons changed. The rest was high desert or tropical, which, by the way, has it's beauties, too.
My friend, Jeanne, must miss it, too. She goes back every so often. But then, she lives in New Mexico and the change of seasons there is not quite like the ones in PA. Not sure Bettyann will feel that way when she moves. Her aunt once said our town was a good place to be from. In the 33 moves I've made, I can't say any ever replaced that special spot in my heart that my home town and its people still hold.
In fact, an email from the longest friendship in my life is what sparked my trip down memory lane. Sharon and I once tried to remember when we first met. We can't. We were too young. Our fathers and grandfathers knew each other, so our relationship goes a long way back. I remember walking down to visit our second grade teacher, Mrs. Pendleton. Such a lovely, lovely lady. Always gave us flowers from her garden.
Not everyone was lovely, though. Bettyann and I were laughing about the behavior of some of our neighbors and yes, our home town had an underbelly, but I just found out the very, very upscale community not too far to my south has one that is worse. Ours was just a bunch of drunken neighbor men who met the screaming wrath of their wives with equally loud shouting at a time when the rest of the neighborhood would rather be asleep. People are going to be people, no matter where you go. When I heard of some of the goings on in the town I now live close to, I praised God He did not allow me to stoop to some of the things that have been done to acquire riches and power.
I lived across the street from a Boy's Industrial Home. The home started as an orphanage. Over the years, the state began to house boys there who'd been in some sort of trouble. Petty stuff, but breaking the law, none the less. In all the years we lived there, we only had one break in, never locked our doors unless we were going to be gone for several days.
The boy who broke in stole stupid stuff that we rarely or never used. For example, I questioned what I'd done with my new wallet, thinking I hadn't placed it that drawer after all. The police brought it back. Likewise, a box of band aids my dad accused my brothers and me of wasting. When Frankie crawled out a window, a neighbor caught him. His excuse was that he was looking for his baseball. Poor kid. Learned what happened to my wallet, but wonder what happened to him. His antics were nothing compared to what some will do for riches and power.
Maybe I'm just hankering for the quiet, peaceful days of the 1950's, where Moms stayed home, and neighbors wouldn't allow us to get away with anything, but at the same time, allowed us to be kids. Sassing, bulling, fighting, vandalism was stopped in its tracks-and then parents were informed. Running through yards to play hide and seek would just bring a smile. "Have a good time, kids," my mom would say, "but don't get hurt." Jeanne and I could walk downtown at 10:00PM to get her mother an ice cream cone from Jones' without a second thought of safety. Today, kids are being snatched from their front yards in broad daylight.
I was thirteen when my friends and I rode the bus to downtown Pittsburgh to shop-unaccompanied by an adult. There was one bus drive that acted a little too frisky, but we laughed at him.
People weren't so uptight then. Not nearly so angry. If the game of one upmandship was played it was far too subtle for me to notice. Some people had more money than others, but who cared? Lawsuits between neighbors were unheard of and backfired when tried. I remember cutting my foot on a screw on Sharon's metal wading pool. Her mother put some blue medication and a band aid on it. That night, Sharon's dad removed the screw. End of story.
In Spring, we flew kites, and picked forget-me-not's in the field up the hill from our homes. Mud from thawing dirt streets made a mess, but everyone had the same mess. No big deal. In summer, we waited downtown for the school bus that would take us to the one pool several miles away. One car per family in those days. Once in a while, Sharon's or Connie's mother would take us to all the way South Park where there was another pool. Different families would go on vacation at different times over the summer. Those still at home would find other friends or some outdoor pursuit (catching lightening bugs, picking blackberries) to keep us busy and out of trouble.
Autumn, ah, autumn. When the frost would remove the chlorophyll and the Lord would reveal His awesome creativity in the spectacular colors of the leaves underneath. Back to school and the beginning of wearing sweaters. Going to footballs games. Dad always said, "Have a good time, but act like a lady." Sorry, Dad, but cheering for my team was not ladylike.
Winter. Snow, sled rides, ice skating, Christmas. Lights, lots of lights and icicles on the Christmas trees. Hearing Christmas carols in every store from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve. Bob could never understand why I wanted to decorate for Christmas the way I did. Until we moved to Steubenville and he saw I wasn't nearly as gung ho as the rest of the community.
Even the bitter cold of January and February was special. There's something invigorating about a very cold day, even when the sun is shining. By March, the cold was beginning to lose the battle with the sun returning from its winter vacation. Each season brought anticipation, each had a time of excitement. And, yes, I still miss it.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Attacked!
Ever since we moved into this cottage, we've been trying to get grass to grow to cover the bare, poorly nourished soil. Grass seed, fertilizer, and top soil have all been applied. Bob has spent many hours dragging a hose around, watering when it needed it. Well, the Lord has been gracious in sending lots of rain over the past 8 or 9 days. And, I do mean lots.
Is the top soil and the grass seed he put down before this started still in place? Hard to say. I'm concerned it all washed into the ditch behind the house. In the front yard, something is growing. Wish I knew how to take a picture and let you see the bumper crop of toad stool that are flourishing. Well, at least something is growing.
Unfortunately, there's something else growing in the side yard. Fire ants. Nasty little beasts. It's been documented that they wait until their friends and family have joined them on your person before they attack. I was busy focusing on controlling the huge golf umbrella as well as the dog's leash, when I realized I hadn't fastened her rain coat properly and moved to set it right. I didn't want her to pee on her coat. It's a good thing I moved. As I moved toward her, I felt a sting on my right foot, but more anxious about her messing up her raincoat, I ignored it. When she squatted, I was too late to do anything about her, so I looked down at my foot to see several fire ants feasting on me.
Umbrella and leash in hand doesn't leave anything to use to crush the little monsters. Wiping my foot on my pant leg didn't get rid of enough of them. I could feel them crawling and biting. Put away the umbrella, undress her, open the door, check her raincoat. All had to be done before attending to the bites that will now cause me misery for at least a week, maybe more.
We put out fire ant killer several times when we first moved in. They were all over the place. We were so successful in getting rid of them, I actually forgot to look for them. Sneaky as they are, they were biding their time and attacked when I wasn't thinking about them, not remembering they never really go away and return with a vengeance when the ground is wet.
Like the church lady says, "Isn't this special?"
Is the top soil and the grass seed he put down before this started still in place? Hard to say. I'm concerned it all washed into the ditch behind the house. In the front yard, something is growing. Wish I knew how to take a picture and let you see the bumper crop of toad stool that are flourishing. Well, at least something is growing.
Unfortunately, there's something else growing in the side yard. Fire ants. Nasty little beasts. It's been documented that they wait until their friends and family have joined them on your person before they attack. I was busy focusing on controlling the huge golf umbrella as well as the dog's leash, when I realized I hadn't fastened her rain coat properly and moved to set it right. I didn't want her to pee on her coat. It's a good thing I moved. As I moved toward her, I felt a sting on my right foot, but more anxious about her messing up her raincoat, I ignored it. When she squatted, I was too late to do anything about her, so I looked down at my foot to see several fire ants feasting on me.
Umbrella and leash in hand doesn't leave anything to use to crush the little monsters. Wiping my foot on my pant leg didn't get rid of enough of them. I could feel them crawling and biting. Put away the umbrella, undress her, open the door, check her raincoat. All had to be done before attending to the bites that will now cause me misery for at least a week, maybe more.
We put out fire ant killer several times when we first moved in. They were all over the place. We were so successful in getting rid of them, I actually forgot to look for them. Sneaky as they are, they were biding their time and attacked when I wasn't thinking about them, not remembering they never really go away and return with a vengeance when the ground is wet.
Like the church lady says, "Isn't this special?"
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Keep up, Grandma!
Trying to write my second book is a big challenge. Plot, characters, and location aren't the problem. What then? It's the times. I never noticed how much has changed in my lifetime. Oh, sure, hair styles, clothing styles, and cars among other things have changed. That's why I don't like modern or contemporary furniture. It's obsolete long before we can afford to replace it. Even worse, it looks so uncomfortable, uninviting, and cold.
I never thought about it, but names also become obsolete. When I did remember, characters in this book are in their 20's and couldn't have names like Barbara, Sharon, Bill, or Richard. No, it's Amber, Ashley, Courtney, Paige, Kevin, Zachary, Brad, etc. Now, people in their 20's are recycling names from my mother's generation. Isobel, Charlotte, Sophia. Boys are given Biblical names. My great grandson is Elijah. A boy in our church is "Levi," and there are lots of Jacobs around.
If I want to be relevant, I have to know these things. Just a few years ago, an award winning best selling author had a carborater go bad in her car. That word is so obsolete I couldn't even find it in the dictionary to spell it right! Her editor should have caught that. Our 1987 Bonneville had computer chips that went bad repeatedly. It took five terrifying years to get it corrected. (It would die when you tapped the brakes. Try that on the interstate when 18 wheelers are climbing your tail pipe in Chicago rush hour traffic at 75 mph) Anyway, that's how I knew cars in the 2010's don't have that thing I can't spell.
The first book was not a problem in that regard. The characters were my age when the story took place in the 1980's. Back then, people had names I was familiar with and I used them, but now, I'll have to get my granddaughter's approval for expressions as well as names. I've noticed ads in the newspaper no longer say "throw" pillows. They're "toss" pillows. When did that happen? Now that the coffee table is the size of a small bedroom, have they changed the name, too? Are crossword puzzles still popular or are they all doing sudoku? For that matter, do they read newspapers? Even that's going electronic.
It seems like about every expression I use, the TV says it's a no no. I described a character as a "hunk." Unh uh. So, I changed it to "hot." Nope. What do they say these days? Someone asked me if I wrote about men from a man's point of view. Not possible. I'm not a man. How am I going to write about 20 somethings if I don't even know what to call them? Never mind all their electronic gadgets. That's been a real nightmare. It's not been too long since they started talking about "Crackle" on TV. What's that? For that matter, it won't be long before my 4 year old great-grandson will vaguely remember TV as a thing in his very young life. Now, everything is being streamed onto ipads, iphones, and maybe even iwatches.
I'm trying kids, I really am, but Grandma is huffing and puffing, just trying to catch up. Unfortunately, I feel like getting behinder and behinder.
I never thought about it, but names also become obsolete. When I did remember, characters in this book are in their 20's and couldn't have names like Barbara, Sharon, Bill, or Richard. No, it's Amber, Ashley, Courtney, Paige, Kevin, Zachary, Brad, etc. Now, people in their 20's are recycling names from my mother's generation. Isobel, Charlotte, Sophia. Boys are given Biblical names. My great grandson is Elijah. A boy in our church is "Levi," and there are lots of Jacobs around.
If I want to be relevant, I have to know these things. Just a few years ago, an award winning best selling author had a carborater go bad in her car. That word is so obsolete I couldn't even find it in the dictionary to spell it right! Her editor should have caught that. Our 1987 Bonneville had computer chips that went bad repeatedly. It took five terrifying years to get it corrected. (It would die when you tapped the brakes. Try that on the interstate when 18 wheelers are climbing your tail pipe in Chicago rush hour traffic at 75 mph) Anyway, that's how I knew cars in the 2010's don't have that thing I can't spell.
The first book was not a problem in that regard. The characters were my age when the story took place in the 1980's. Back then, people had names I was familiar with and I used them, but now, I'll have to get my granddaughter's approval for expressions as well as names. I've noticed ads in the newspaper no longer say "throw" pillows. They're "toss" pillows. When did that happen? Now that the coffee table is the size of a small bedroom, have they changed the name, too? Are crossword puzzles still popular or are they all doing sudoku? For that matter, do they read newspapers? Even that's going electronic.
It seems like about every expression I use, the TV says it's a no no. I described a character as a "hunk." Unh uh. So, I changed it to "hot." Nope. What do they say these days? Someone asked me if I wrote about men from a man's point of view. Not possible. I'm not a man. How am I going to write about 20 somethings if I don't even know what to call them? Never mind all their electronic gadgets. That's been a real nightmare. It's not been too long since they started talking about "Crackle" on TV. What's that? For that matter, it won't be long before my 4 year old great-grandson will vaguely remember TV as a thing in his very young life. Now, everything is being streamed onto ipads, iphones, and maybe even iwatches.
I'm trying kids, I really am, but Grandma is huffing and puffing, just trying to catch up. Unfortunately, I feel like getting behinder and behinder.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Uh Oh
Hit a bump. Never in my wildest imagination did I, as a 70 year old happily married great grandmother, expect to get an email from a man saying he wanted to get to know me better, along with nice compliments in the message. His picture looks like I've got about 30 years on him!
Alarm bells were going off, along with Sarai's disbelieving laughter. When the alarms ring, I choose to start off by pretending I don't understand. I try to let him think I believe he's just being friendly. However, men are very good at turning a situation into "He said, she said" and frankly I don't need the hassle. By some strange quirk of the human dynamic, men are more often believed than woman. I answered, keeping it impersonal, mentioning my computer illiteracy.
This morning, his first question was about my marital status. I feel so sorry for him. He's obviously very lonely. But, oh, what an open door to present the Gospel! I stepped through that door, after a lot of prayer and gratitude for those who are praying for me. Now, I'm praying for him.
If I hadn't stepped through the door into the world of publishing, I would never have joined any social media and would have missed a wonderful opportunity and blessing.
God is amazing. He's turned an uh oh into an aah.
Alarm bells were going off, along with Sarai's disbelieving laughter. When the alarms ring, I choose to start off by pretending I don't understand. I try to let him think I believe he's just being friendly. However, men are very good at turning a situation into "He said, she said" and frankly I don't need the hassle. By some strange quirk of the human dynamic, men are more often believed than woman. I answered, keeping it impersonal, mentioning my computer illiteracy.
This morning, his first question was about my marital status. I feel so sorry for him. He's obviously very lonely. But, oh, what an open door to present the Gospel! I stepped through that door, after a lot of prayer and gratitude for those who are praying for me. Now, I'm praying for him.
If I hadn't stepped through the door into the world of publishing, I would never have joined any social media and would have missed a wonderful opportunity and blessing.
God is amazing. He's turned an uh oh into an aah.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Good day, Bad day
Why is it when I'm having a fantastic day, a good friend is having it rough? Wanda and I used to do that. She'd call moaning, groaning and complaining about her husband. Bob and I would be getting along just fine. Then, we'd have an argument, but Wanda and David had reconciled. Come to think of it, I guess we couldn't be much help to each other if we were both down at the same time. Maybe that's the way God works it.
Just read Marianne's blog. It's a tough time for her right now and I'm really sorry. She's a good friend to have. In fact, she was my first friend in the state of Florida. We met 19 years ago next month.
I got an email from a dear friend who lives in Albuquerque. Our friendship goes beyond us. Our mothers were friends. She's been battling cancer and what a valiant warrior she's been. The cancer is still hanging on. The doctor's gave her two years and she's surpassed that, but some of the tumors are growing again. Then, too, her husband just had a mild stroke, and her daughter had to have a foot amputated. See what I mean? Dear friends are having a tough time and while I want to fix it, I can't.
I can pray and I do, but Larry Crabb, among many others have come to realize -and teach me - that our God is not manipulated. He may choose to heal. He may not, but He is still God and worthy of our worship.
And, worship I did this morning. While my life seems to be a bit crazy at the moment, my time with the Lord is beyond description. A friend (Connie) invited me to a pancake breakfast this morning. In order to get to her house, I had to go west before going south to Vero. It was raining and I saw the most vibrant rainbow I've seen in a very long time. Apparently, as the sun was coming up, the clouds were moving west and the rainbow got the full exposure of the sun between the clouds that were scattered behind me. I sang (thankfully, I was alone) all the way to Vero.
I thought I'd check my emails before I left and the first one I came across was from the publisher, offering a very good deal to be shown at the Frankfurt, Germany, book fair. Just last week, I told the marketing coach that I'd love to take advantage of what I thought was a good offer, but couldn't. Lo and behold, they cut that price in half! I jumped on it. The Frankfurt book fair is the largest in the world. Since I don't have 900 friends (working on it through Face Book and Linked In) I have hopes that book sellers around the world will take an interest in my book and make purchases.
My husband had minor surgery on his hand yesterday and even though so many little things kept going wrong, I was able to take care of the dog, check my emails, and retrieve my Moody Bible Institute class ring (1991) from the floor where I'd dropped it. So far, the glass lid I broke last night has not shown up in the dog's foot, for which I'm extremely grateful. Bob's been resting about all day.
The pancake breakfast was a lot of fun. I got to meet several lovely people, found out about a new branch library where I'll drop a copy of my book off next week. On the way home, I needed to look for bandages for my husband's hand. Walgreen's and the health care supply store didn't have what he wanted so I headed for one of those tiny, hole-in-the-wall drug stores that usually have everything the box stores don't. I know a husband and wife team that are the pharmacist's there, so I took my book into show them. Before I could get in the door, the woman coming out noticed my book in my hand and literally came to a screeching halt. Of course she had to have one, so I made a sale before I got in the door. (Was it like this for you, John Grisham?) My friends weren't there today, and neither were the bandages I wanted, but it wasn't a total loss.
I also stopped at the bank to deposit checks I'd received for sale of other books and the manager took a picture of the book, said his wife would get it on line and to come back. There's a teller in that branch who is constantly reading. The mail had another check to be deposited come Monday.
All because of my dear friend Connie. She's very social and has the gift of hospitality. I'm neither, but if I hang onto her coattails, I may learn. She promotes my book wherever she goes and has sold several. Bless her, Lord! Had she not extended the invitation yesterday, I'd have stayed home and cleaned (Maybe). It wouldn't have been nearly as wonderful as today has been. I would have missed the rainbow. I would have missed meeting such wonderful people. I'd have missed a good breakfast. And, I wouldn't have had a good excuse to let the dust lie:) Thanks, Connie, you're a sweetheart!
Just read Marianne's blog. It's a tough time for her right now and I'm really sorry. She's a good friend to have. In fact, she was my first friend in the state of Florida. We met 19 years ago next month.
I got an email from a dear friend who lives in Albuquerque. Our friendship goes beyond us. Our mothers were friends. She's been battling cancer and what a valiant warrior she's been. The cancer is still hanging on. The doctor's gave her two years and she's surpassed that, but some of the tumors are growing again. Then, too, her husband just had a mild stroke, and her daughter had to have a foot amputated. See what I mean? Dear friends are having a tough time and while I want to fix it, I can't.
I can pray and I do, but Larry Crabb, among many others have come to realize -and teach me - that our God is not manipulated. He may choose to heal. He may not, but He is still God and worthy of our worship.
And, worship I did this morning. While my life seems to be a bit crazy at the moment, my time with the Lord is beyond description. A friend (Connie) invited me to a pancake breakfast this morning. In order to get to her house, I had to go west before going south to Vero. It was raining and I saw the most vibrant rainbow I've seen in a very long time. Apparently, as the sun was coming up, the clouds were moving west and the rainbow got the full exposure of the sun between the clouds that were scattered behind me. I sang (thankfully, I was alone) all the way to Vero.
I thought I'd check my emails before I left and the first one I came across was from the publisher, offering a very good deal to be shown at the Frankfurt, Germany, book fair. Just last week, I told the marketing coach that I'd love to take advantage of what I thought was a good offer, but couldn't. Lo and behold, they cut that price in half! I jumped on it. The Frankfurt book fair is the largest in the world. Since I don't have 900 friends (working on it through Face Book and Linked In) I have hopes that book sellers around the world will take an interest in my book and make purchases.
My husband had minor surgery on his hand yesterday and even though so many little things kept going wrong, I was able to take care of the dog, check my emails, and retrieve my Moody Bible Institute class ring (1991) from the floor where I'd dropped it. So far, the glass lid I broke last night has not shown up in the dog's foot, for which I'm extremely grateful. Bob's been resting about all day.
The pancake breakfast was a lot of fun. I got to meet several lovely people, found out about a new branch library where I'll drop a copy of my book off next week. On the way home, I needed to look for bandages for my husband's hand. Walgreen's and the health care supply store didn't have what he wanted so I headed for one of those tiny, hole-in-the-wall drug stores that usually have everything the box stores don't. I know a husband and wife team that are the pharmacist's there, so I took my book into show them. Before I could get in the door, the woman coming out noticed my book in my hand and literally came to a screeching halt. Of course she had to have one, so I made a sale before I got in the door. (Was it like this for you, John Grisham?) My friends weren't there today, and neither were the bandages I wanted, but it wasn't a total loss.
I also stopped at the bank to deposit checks I'd received for sale of other books and the manager took a picture of the book, said his wife would get it on line and to come back. There's a teller in that branch who is constantly reading. The mail had another check to be deposited come Monday.
All because of my dear friend Connie. She's very social and has the gift of hospitality. I'm neither, but if I hang onto her coattails, I may learn. She promotes my book wherever she goes and has sold several. Bless her, Lord! Had she not extended the invitation yesterday, I'd have stayed home and cleaned (Maybe). It wouldn't have been nearly as wonderful as today has been. I would have missed the rainbow. I would have missed meeting such wonderful people. I'd have missed a good breakfast. And, I wouldn't have had a good excuse to let the dust lie:) Thanks, Connie, you're a sweetheart!
Friday, September 12, 2014
Blossoms on my tree
If you haven't already guessed, I call my friends my blossoms on my tree. I have no idea whether the nettle tree actually has blossoms, but the nettles' tree does.
My friend Gideon was such a blessing to me recently. Then there's Sandra. Sandra and I met in 92 in Steubenville, Ohio. We were both working at Kaufman's and not too happy about it. She'd been a home ec teacher in the South, but was not able to get a teaching position when her family moved north to become Baptist music missionaries in Weirton, West Virginia.
We hit it off immediately. When I became aware of VISTA positions at Urban Mission, I told her she needed to apply. She did. Both of us began to work for the Mission. I admired her courage. There were difficulties at the mission that should not have been there. I left in protest. She stayed to minister to the ones hurt by the wrong doing. In fact, they gave her a full time position. When her husband, Mike, became very ill, Sandra was able to figure out a way to continue her work and care full time for her husband. Amazing.
After Mike's death, she continued to live in Steubenville and minister in her church, the reason for them moving from the south in the first place. "The Lord didn't send me here to watch it die," was her valiant battle cry. It was not to be. Health issues took her back south to her son's families.
The Lord so graciously cared for this wonderful woman I can only begin to describe. She now resides in Mississippi, making our contact via phone the only way to stay in touch. But, oh, those conversations!
I was telling her how difficult the job has been to promote my book. "Now, Mary, what did your characters do when they hit rough times?" she asked.
"You mean you're telling me I should take a page out of my own book?"
"Yes."
"Point taken......right through my heart." We had a really good laugh together. I'm so grateful my friend knew it was time for me to set aside the pity party and get on my knees. That's what best friends do. They know instinctively whether to comfort or correct. Is it any wonder I consider my friends blossoms on my tree?
My friend Gideon was such a blessing to me recently. Then there's Sandra. Sandra and I met in 92 in Steubenville, Ohio. We were both working at Kaufman's and not too happy about it. She'd been a home ec teacher in the South, but was not able to get a teaching position when her family moved north to become Baptist music missionaries in Weirton, West Virginia.
We hit it off immediately. When I became aware of VISTA positions at Urban Mission, I told her she needed to apply. She did. Both of us began to work for the Mission. I admired her courage. There were difficulties at the mission that should not have been there. I left in protest. She stayed to minister to the ones hurt by the wrong doing. In fact, they gave her a full time position. When her husband, Mike, became very ill, Sandra was able to figure out a way to continue her work and care full time for her husband. Amazing.
After Mike's death, she continued to live in Steubenville and minister in her church, the reason for them moving from the south in the first place. "The Lord didn't send me here to watch it die," was her valiant battle cry. It was not to be. Health issues took her back south to her son's families.
The Lord so graciously cared for this wonderful woman I can only begin to describe. She now resides in Mississippi, making our contact via phone the only way to stay in touch. But, oh, those conversations!
I was telling her how difficult the job has been to promote my book. "Now, Mary, what did your characters do when they hit rough times?" she asked.
"You mean you're telling me I should take a page out of my own book?"
"Yes."
"Point taken......right through my heart." We had a really good laugh together. I'm so grateful my friend knew it was time for me to set aside the pity party and get on my knees. That's what best friends do. They know instinctively whether to comfort or correct. Is it any wonder I consider my friends blossoms on my tree?
Monday, September 8, 2014
Shame on me
Shame on me for thinking social media was a waste. Pardon my snobbery. I'm meeting so many wonderful people, sharing so many wonderful things, learning still more wonderful things. Now, I seriously doubt I'll ever be very good at it and sincerely hope I won't get so wrapped up in it I'll neglect family or face-to-face friends.
Made two of those just this past week. My friend, Connie, invited me for a game of dominoes. Thinking it was the little black plastic ones with the white dots, I agreed. She kept commenting that the times she'd played the game before, her guests were just learning. That puzzled me. I thought every one knew who to play dominoes.
Turns out this is completely different. The dominoes are white tiles and each set of dots has a different color. Each player gets a small train. Starting with the double 12, each player forms her own train-if she has a 12. If not, she goes to the "bones" and picks up another tile. The train goes to the head of where her tiles will be. As long as her train is visible, other players can add to her tile train. Her train stays in place until she can use her own tile to add to her train. During the game, one extra train can be started and anyone can play on it. When one player uses all her tiles, the game starts over with eleven and so on down to the double zero.
It wasn't as hard as it sounds, but the fun part was getting acquainted with Sandra and Lorraine. They accepted me like a long lost friend. As a general rule, meeting people for the first time can be awkward, but there was none of that this time. Perhaps the game was the ice breaker. Perhaps we were just four people who enjoyed each other's company. They were so gracious, they even bought my book! But, that wasn't the reason we had such a good time getting acquainted.
It was such a delight to make friends face to face as well as on line. On line, there have been so many who have been so gracious and accepting of this computer amateur and I'm grateful It's always good to start the day grateful, don't you think?
I'm especially grateful for Gideon, his family, and his church. He's in Kenya and we'll probably never meet this side of heaven, but he, his family, and his church have felt led to pray for me and my ministry. Every time the negative feelings crop up, here comes a message from Gideon saying they're praying for me. Thank you Gideon. And, thank you, internet, for the privilege of meeting and being friends with people like Gideon, his family, and his church.
Made two of those just this past week. My friend, Connie, invited me for a game of dominoes. Thinking it was the little black plastic ones with the white dots, I agreed. She kept commenting that the times she'd played the game before, her guests were just learning. That puzzled me. I thought every one knew who to play dominoes.
Turns out this is completely different. The dominoes are white tiles and each set of dots has a different color. Each player gets a small train. Starting with the double 12, each player forms her own train-if she has a 12. If not, she goes to the "bones" and picks up another tile. The train goes to the head of where her tiles will be. As long as her train is visible, other players can add to her tile train. Her train stays in place until she can use her own tile to add to her train. During the game, one extra train can be started and anyone can play on it. When one player uses all her tiles, the game starts over with eleven and so on down to the double zero.
It wasn't as hard as it sounds, but the fun part was getting acquainted with Sandra and Lorraine. They accepted me like a long lost friend. As a general rule, meeting people for the first time can be awkward, but there was none of that this time. Perhaps the game was the ice breaker. Perhaps we were just four people who enjoyed each other's company. They were so gracious, they even bought my book! But, that wasn't the reason we had such a good time getting acquainted.
It was such a delight to make friends face to face as well as on line. On line, there have been so many who have been so gracious and accepting of this computer amateur and I'm grateful It's always good to start the day grateful, don't you think?
I'm especially grateful for Gideon, his family, and his church. He's in Kenya and we'll probably never meet this side of heaven, but he, his family, and his church have felt led to pray for me and my ministry. Every time the negative feelings crop up, here comes a message from Gideon saying they're praying for me. Thank you Gideon. And, thank you, internet, for the privilege of meeting and being friends with people like Gideon, his family, and his church.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)