The Wee People

Have you heard of the wee people? The Irish tell of sightings in the woods and crevices of their fair country. It is mystical sounding and delightful to imagine a little person scampering about beneath the flora. Think of The Borrowers. Wouldn't you love it if they were real? Well, I encountered a wee person this week. You think I jest? Would I make this up? (ahem)

I had just hung up from a cell call with sister Patsy, put my phone in my pocket and carried a box to my bedroom closet to store. As I was reaching up in the darkened room, there was the faintest voice coming from down near the floor. Just a squeak of a voice, barely audible to my ears. A wee person, me thinks! (imagine Irish accent here.) Can it be?!! As I look toward the floor, I hear it again! By this time I'm imagining a little person with red frizzy hair and a peasant outfit (just go with this okay?) Heart is palpitating. . . wee person? . . . wee person? Patsy. Huh? Yes, Patsy. She's in my pocket, saying hello? hello? Who's this?

My phone had not locked and had redialed her! Oh, what a disappointment (sorry Patsy)! I had NOT encountered a wee person after all. But they are there, folks. Some where. Keep your eyes out.

Out West

How did the early pioneers survive in Nevada? It's beyond my comprehension. It is a desert, folks! If the electricity went out, in 2010, they all would DIE! No kidding. Just coming back from a visit with Ashley in Utah, we flew in and out of Las Vegas. Yesterday, as we prepared to fly back home, the temperature was 110. How can animals survive, let alone people? It wasn't much cooler in Utah. Although it is the high desert, it still was in the 90's and made hiking in the afternoon prohibitive.

The scenery is awesome. Tall, rugged mountains with peaks, and also a healthy mix of mesas (flat top mountains). This area of the country is supposed to be dinosaur heaven for those who like to dig in the dirt. My family does. You can't or shouldn't remove bones if found, but it's fun to look. All we found was some petrified wood, which is pretty cool.

Patrick and I flew to Utah to visit Ashley for a family weekend at Falcon Ridge Ranch. We saw the little colt which she had the privilege of naming (Inferno). Oh, and we all three got to experience equine therapy. It was so cool! Although I was the only one who was thrilled with it. Ashley was too worried about us getting hurt by a horse to really relax. Each of us were instructed to put orange cones arranged on the ground so that we made an enclosure, big enough for a horse to fit inside. So we each made our space. Mine was right next to the white fence, in a rectangle. Ashley's was in the middle of the corral in a large undefined shape. Patrick chose to make a large triangle, using only 3 cones. Next, we were told to work individually, or as a team, to bring one horse into a space, settle it down, and then step out of the space. The goal was to keep the horse in the space. We could not speak nor re-enter the space. All we could do was stand in front of the horse to keep it in place. We had two horses in the corral with us, so on one occasion we had to keep the other horse out of the space, while keeping the other one in! We were to relate the boundaries we had set up to boundaries in our own life. We were each supposed to decide what boundaries are important to us in our family, and don't want others to cross over. The therapist spoke with us as we completed different steps about our thoughts, etc. It was quite fascinating.

Over the course of the weekend, there were a couple of parent-training meetings which were very very good. Also, we had free time with her. We went to Zion National Park one day, and to St. George another. On the day when we had the most time together to freely do what we wanted, it was Sunday and many things were closed! Grrr. I also looked into us going on an ATV ride out in the desert, but it would have been close to $500! Darn. Someday maybe.

Ashley continues to do well at the ranch. She is hoping to come home for another visit in July.

All for now.

If you had any doubt . . .

If you had any doubt about what life is like in Saudi Arabia, have I got the book for you. It is written by Carmen Bin Laden, ex-sister-in-law of Osama. She met her future husband, one of Osama's 20 plus brothers, in Switzerland, where she grew up. They fell in love, married and lived for awhile in the USA. Little did she know what she was getting into when she said "I do." To be fair, her husband, so far (I'm still in the book), is not like many of his brothers. He seems to go along with the barbaric traditions of his nomadic ancestors, and Muslim faith, in deference to his family. Inside, he is not like them. After schooling in the US, her husband decides they should go to Saudi Arabia to live. Carmen knows little about the Muslim faith, let alone the peculiarities of Saudi Arabian culture. At this point in my reading, she has been there about 3 years and is barely enduring the secluded life of a woman in a country where she is no better than property. She is an intelligent and bold woman and is hoping Saudi Arabia will come into the 20th century instead of remaining in the middle ages. After a few years, things did not get better, but worse. Now she has 2 daughters, not a son which would offer her many benefits and protections should her husband die. With only daughters for children, if her husband dies, she would be under the control of one of her fanatic brothers. She and her daughters could never leave the country without his permission.

Are you interested yet?

Lincoln this, Lincoln that

It's Memorial Day -- and raining. Not to fret. Jeff and I just got back from a fun two days in Springfield, IL. (Did you know there is a Springfield in every state?) We stayed at a bed and breakfast which used to be broken up into apartments. It was built over 100 years ago. I tell you, I felt like I had entered a Humphrey Bogart or Jimmy Stewart movie. There was the woodwork - everywhere. Stairs, winding. A front desk with a small closet where each room's key was on a nail. The amenities were great although i did not partake in all. Each day at 5 pm there is free wine and cheese in a central location. Every evening, after we had been out and returned, there on our door knob was a basket with 4 homemade chocolate chip cookies. Marriott, beat that!

We had a whirlpool bathtub, a remodeled bathroom with a pedestal sink and clean tile, etc. One day, after many people had checked out, I walked on 2nd and 3rd floor and snooped in all the rooms. There were some stunning options.

This was a Lincoln weekend. I'd say there were 3 favorites for me: 1. Lincoln's home; 2. a Frank Lloyd Wright home to tour with original furniture, light fixtures, wallpaper; and 3. (the best) was the new Abraham Lincoln museum. After touring the museum, you feel like you were a fly on the wall and watched him grow up, marry and die. Go see it.

Frankie's home was dark, but the layout and feel of the place was very appealing. It would be a great place to live if only the lighting was better (they had all light fixtures set at 1904 wattage (15) for historical accuracy), and if those darn mission chairs had a curve for the spine. The furniture is great, except the chairs have perfectly vertical backs. Once, when the owner's tried to get rid of the house and the furniture inside, no one wanted the straight-back chairs. This turned out for the benefit of the home - now museum. The chairs did not have to be found and bought back. Go see it too!

Lincoln's home was a two story colonial of sorts. The wallpaper was garish, but in style then. We also toured one of Lincoln's law offices and learned that on occasion, Lincoln came to work after having argued with his wife. His law partner would notice a tear in Lincoln's eye, and disappear for an hour. When he returned, all was well with poor Abe. Did you know his wife was admitted to a mental hospital by her one surviving son? She really was a bit off. Everyone has their own suffering, don't they.

Well, all for now.

An Iris in the Spring

Today is beautiful. Warm. Sunny. Dry. Irises have bloomed in our front yard. They have without doubt the most lovely smell. Next comes Lilacs. Today I walked past a lilac bush which had almost a spicy aroma with the sweetness. Curious. It's amazing to me how God can make such a luscious smell that is not too heavy, or too sweet, like some perfumes can be. People have tried to duplicate God's perfumes and put them in bottles. Have you ever smelled a bottled perfume that smells remotely as fresh, light, intoxicating as an aromatic flower in the sunshine?

We humans can make some wonderful smells - usually associated with food. For example, homemade bread, coffee, bacon, apple pie, Thanksgiving turkey, all produce in us a deep breath with a smile as we enter their vicinity . But even these, with their comforting smells, cannot compare with an iris in the spring.

Traditionally, consistently, without fail, I have had extreme nausea when pregnant. Ask my relatives. It is so bad, even the smell of water can make me up-chuck. One day during my pregnancy with Ashley, God gave me a reprieve. For one day (and this had never happened before), the nausea was gone. One day only. Our neighbors in Red Wing, Minnesota, had a back yard completely filled up with flowers and plants. There was a path through the garden, so I left in-house prison for a walk among irises. Oh, the smell! I believe I got teary eyed, so appreciative of the break I was experiencing. God had given me a gift of flowers with irises. I don't recall if the nausea came back that afternoon, or the next morning, but it did. Just as bad as always. I don't know why. But even today, irises make me think of that day - a present from my Father above. I absolutely LOVE the smell of Irises in the spring.

Gross Factor: 4 out of 10

What do you call it when you have a duty to do in the bathroom? Did you use the number system as a child? One for liquids, two for solids? It was used in the home I grew up in. And I used it with my children. It was a code to be used in lieu of vocalizing in public the gross alternatives such as "poop". I had not realized it was such a part of our culture, although probably not spelled out anywhere -- until recently. Where did I discover this? In the bathroom of course. It's always educational to travel, don't you think? Well, along the route between Wenham, Massachusetts and Geneva, Illinois, I was educated on the fact that the whole world must use the number system. In a rest area, doing my own business, was a new kind of toilet. I warned you this has a gross factor. Instead of the normal handle to flush, this toilet had a special orange colored handle with instructions for the uninitiated (me). It told me to push the handle up for number 1 (liquids) and push it down for solids (number 2). Apparently this will conserve clean water as one requires more water than the other. I had to chuckle; all the moms in the world have had their private language published. It's offical.

Miriam, my dear, I can so relate.

Miriam and brother Aaron, the older ones in the family, were ticked at baby brother Moses. To be sure, he's all grown up now and the leader of their nation. And he has been the catalyst in getting them out of Egyptian slavery. God got his attention one day, gave him a mission, and Moses accomplished it. That certainly is commendable. He has done all sorts of wonderful things for their people. And he loves God. But you know, there's something younger brother has done recently that makes older sister question his ability to lead.

"He went and married a Cushite woman. A Cushite! Someone who has just tagged along with our people, but really isn't one of us. How could he do this? You know, other people have heard God's voice besides Moses. Hasn't He spoken to us too, Aaron? I'm sure God must be displeased with Moses for marrying that woman. One of us should take over leadership. I bet God feels the same way we do."

Aaron and Miriam quietly began criticizing Moses behind his back. But Someone had Moses' back. God heard the grumbling, and was not thrilled with their attitude.

"Moses, Miriam, Aaron, come meet with Me at the tent. . . Miriam and Aaron, come closer to me. You know, I sometimes choose a person to be a prophet, to tell others messages from me. And when I do that, it is through a vision or a dream at night. That's how they hear My voice. But it's completely different with Moses. With Moses, we speak face to face. He hears me directly, not in mysterious sayings. So tell me Miriam and Aaron, why aren't you afraid to criticize My servant, this man I have a very close relationship with?"

No answer.

Well,the Lord, having a father's heart for us, was angry at His two children. He left them angry and when Aaron looked over at his sister, her skin was white with leprosy. Moses asked the Lord to heal her. Guess what His answer was? "If her father had spit in her face, wouldn't she be humiliated for a few days afterward?" So Miriam camped away from her people a short distance for 7 days. Then her skin was okay and she returned.

Miriam dear, I can so relate. Here's what I do that's uncomfortably like you. I look at someone in authority or higher responsibility and see something wrong, or something I think is wrong, and get critical. Then, to make matters worse, I am convinced God is right with me on this one. He's agreeing with me, in my imagination. I'm thinking God is opposed to the other guy, but in reality, He is opposed to my self-righteous judging of someone I'm not responsible for. Ouch.

Raccoons, a Cat, and Tulips

Another beautiful Sunday morning. There are pink and yellow tulips outside my corner window. It's in this spot I can see the neighbor's cat, who is very pregnant, walk slowly through our yard.

I'm not sure, but it seems she is interested in the crawl space under our spa room floor. Maybe she wants to birth her babies there? I'll be surprised if she does; I believe it already has tenants - raccoons. We don't know for sure if there are raccoons under there, but I certainly heard a ferocious animal quarrel coming from under the floor boards a few months ago, and since we occasionally spy raccoons in our yard, I think that's who is sleeping under our house.

This is very gross, but there is another reason for us to think "raccoons". Up on the roof, outside Patrick's bedroom window, we occasionally find a rather large animal dropping. You can't really call it a "dropping" because it definitely is more than a mere drop. Enough description. It must be from an animal of some size. Please don't tell me it's a human up there. Raccoons I can take; peeping Toms who like to go potty on my roof - not so much.

Crow brains

I wonder about the lives of crows. Ever since I heard they can live up to 50 years, I became interested in what goes on in their minds! There's got to be something going on in those small brains to survive for 50 years. Do they each have their own personality?

I had a pet parakeet once. That bird had personality. He would sit on the side of my bath tub and enjoy the show! Ha ha. He would fly onto my head, grab my hair and hang upside down, looking at his reflection in my glasses. Really!

You may wonder how he got around so freely in our home? We let him fly around freely, back in the day when I guess I wasn't so concerned with droppings. Ewwww! Sounds unbelievable now, but we allowed it. Of course, he didn't do his business constantly and often I was around him close enough to clean up after him. Nevertheless, the Department of Sanitation would NOT be pleased.

Back to crows. I'm convinced all birds have their own personality. We just aren't allowed the privilege of being intimate with them since they are wild, and don't need our companionship. If they COULD talk so we understood, what would they say? "Hey Oscar! See that guy down there walking his dog? Can you hit him on that bald spot? Five points!"

The end.

To be chosen by a horse . . .

Would that not be special? Especially for a young girl who has believed lies about her self worth. Skunk has chosen my daughter, complete with going to her when she calls, following her across the corral, and nuzzling her leg and side when being brushed. The equine therapist says Skunk is an aloof horse, sometimes bossy, not real social. Skunk chose a girl who has been aloof, not real social, and in need of a friend. A horse is honest. They don't put on airs, or pretend to like a person.

Well, Skunk is going to be a mom soon. She's due this month and is "heavy with child"! I asked Carole (the horse woman and clinical director), if Ashley can be present when Skunk gives birth. Carole said the mares usually like to have their babies when no one is around. She might go out in the morning and find a new foal. So what she told me is that if she finds Skunk having already delivered, she will make sure Ashley is the first girl out there to pet the babe and enjoy the moment. Isn't that cool?

We so long for the approval of people. But isn't it worth gold to have the approval of an honest animal, who sees not our shortcomings, our big nose or thick waist? They see inside, as God does.

Teases and Creamses

Showers and Breezes
Curtains a sway;
Teases and creamses
A warm spring day

Tulips, and robins
Sweet songs and sweet scents
I care not, I ask not, where the snow went.

Come sit for awhile on my porch in the eve
We’ll drink teases and creamses and laugh in the breeze

Dare I say that word? OBEDIENCE

If you are like me, the word obedience does not have a joyful ring to it. How often is the word used in a sentence that brings something pleasant to mind? But,if I think Biblically, or rather believe the Bible, it is something that is to result in being blessed.

I've had a taste of that blessing on occasion... usually when I am walking in submission to the Lord in some area of my life - I mean a specific area. Example? In the last 4 months I have made a choice to abstain from some things in my life that had way too much control over me. Actually, this was more involved than a mere choice - it has required support from other people, literature to read, steps to take. Here it is: I joined a 12-step program. (No, I'm not an alcoholic). I have chosen abstaining from trigger foods that have become an addiction to me. The blessing? I am walking on air. There is hope in heart for walking free from the bondage of those trigger foods. It makes me feel better about myself. I'm actually losing weight (which is a nice by-product of breaking the addiction). So this is a positive - by obeying God's directive to not let anything have control over me.

There has been another way I've seen the blessing of obedience and the lesson came to me through a non-human being. The non-human? My dog, Kippie. I tell you, having a dog has done wonders for me. Here's the latest. I so want Kip to be able to go outside with us when we work in the yard, or swing on the swing. But we have no fence. Putting her on a leash is okay, but she really can't follow us around and sniff at new things. It's just a drag for her to be chained up (maybe like I've been with food?) Here's what has struck me. I, her owner, deeply desire to bless her with freedom to run around. But I can't do that as long as she won't mind me, coming when I call. She is getting better. Saturday she was out in the yard with us for a good 45 minutes. But then she started wandering off too far and not coming when I would call - so back in the house she went. She lost her freedom.

Don't you think that's how God looks at us? If we will just stay within the boundaries He has set for us, we will experience all kinds of wonderful freedoms we don't realize are waiting for us.

Obedience really is meant to be a blessing. It's when I ignore it that it looks like a chain. The chain is around me when I don't obey. I deceptively think the chain is waiting for me when I obey. That's not true! Obedience gives me wings.

Immortal Words

In Border's the other day I found a book on sale called, "Immortal Words, History's Most Memorable Quotations and the Stories Behind Them". It is surprising how old some of our current day quotations are. Seriously. Here are some phrases I bet you've heard used at least once in recent memory:

Familiarity breeds contempt.
A man should practice what he preaches, but a man should also preach what he practices.
God loves to help him who strives to help himself.
It is quality rather than quantity that matters.
One good turn deserves another.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
Do as we say, not as we do.
Face the facts.
See one and you've seen them all.
We must eat to live, not live to eat.

Wonder when these were first uttered? Each quote is assigned a time span, based on the life of their author. In exact order:

620-560 BC, Aesop
551-479 BC, Confucious
525-456 BC, Aeschylus
4-65 AD, Seneca, the Younger
66 AD, Petronius
155/160-222/230 AD, Tertullian
1313-1371 AD, Boccaccio
1473-1543 AD, Copernicus
1577-1640 AD, Robert Burton
1622-1673 AD, Moliere

But the one that surprised me the most is the second oldest listed in the book:

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." Lao-Tzu, 600 BC

I was sure this quote was first made by Republicans.

The Baby-Talk Club and Coo Coo Dee Coo

While walking Kip today I got a chuckle remembering several things from my childhood. One was the Baby-talk Club. My friend, Michelle Macy, and I decided to start a club for ourselves and the aim was to learn what baby babbling meant in adult talk. We came up with some ideas for different sounds and thought it was a good idea, and fun. By the next day we had forgotten about it.

Michelle was an interesting friend. She probably is a brain surgeon today -- I don't know, I just have a feeling about that. She was intelligent and creative and probably was the leader in our duo. She lived across the street from us and a little to the right. In her back yard was a large willow tree and a rescued pigeon, named Coo Coo Dee Coo. Also in her backyard on occasion was her brother Bruce. I did NOT like Bruce. He scared me. I liked Coo Coo Dee Coo -- and the willow tree.

Also, in her back yard, was a grape vine of succulent, purple grapes -- the kind you squeeze between two fingers and the skin remains behind while you plop the delicious innards into your waiting mouth. Mmmmmm. So good. I believe they may be called Concord grapes and Welches must have all the vines nowadays because I've not seen one since then.

The WHOLE story

Friend Jan told me I should tell the rest of the bread story.


So after eating my beef sandwich and still not being satisfied, you'd think I would find a healthy food alternative. Right? Nah.

I went back to the white bread . . .
toasted . . .
slathered . . .
with real butter . . .
three slices.

White Bread - not wonder bread in my book

It's a sunny Monday morning. I stopped at Fresh Market this morning to buy some black grapes. Shoot! They weren't as sweet as I had hoped. Oh well. This is Illinois in March. I'm serving them tonight with Jarlsburg Swiss Cheese. Yummy. This is dessert, it's so good.

As I was pulling out of the parking lot, there was a bag sitting by itself, away from any cars. Hmmm. After just watching the Iraq war movie, "The Hurt Locker", I thought of bombs as I approached. What if there's a bomb in there. All it takes is for me to slightly move it and I'm in 1 million little bits. But again, this is Illinois! As I peeked in the bag - KABOOM! - just kidding. It was a loaf of white bread from Jewell. It must have fallen out of someone's car. Should I take it? No one around. What if it's been poisoned? The cheapness in me won out. Home it goes - even though I NEVER buy white bread like this. How can I pass it up? When I got home and made a beef sandwich with it (and am still alive), I recalled why I don't buy white bread. It practically disappeared in my hands even before biting into the bread. There's nothing of substance there! And after eating my should-be-filling sandwich, I was hungry for more - of anything!

Aren't you glad I'm educating you on white bread on this fine, sunny, Monday morning?

Dear Blog of Mine

Dear Blog,

I've ignored you, haven't I? Facebook has captured my heart for the last year and you are unfortunately on the losing end.

Here are some of my current feelings:

Grateful, ecstatic, excited, hopeful: Daughter Ashley was flown to Virgin, Utah on December 8, 2009. We had reached a crisis moment with her. After several years of family upheaval, praying, searching, hoping for something to help us all, it seems our prayers have been answered through a good lawyer, educational consultant, and Falcon Ridge Ranch. Thank You Jesus. She is doing phenomenal. It seems I have my little girl back, plus a few years.

Jeff and I visit her next week. All of us are very excited. She wants to hug us, go out to eat with us, shop with us, visit an animal sanctuary with us, go hiking with us, share a song publicly for us, share a scrapbook she made for us. Can you tell my heart is full?

Proud and grateful: Son Colin has a good counselor who is helping him say goodbye to a girlfriend who has been bad news. Counselor says he knows a girl who might be a good fit for him. That's all he needed to say goodbye to the old one. He is making steps to truly cut things off with her - yet he has broken up with her at least 50 times. It seems different this time. He is not answering her calls or texts, except briefly to say it's over. He knows she may show up at certain times of the day so plans to be away from home (hey, whatever it takes!). So I'm proud of him finding the strength (with good support) to do this.

I've had fun lately trying to gather 6 or so antique plates, all different, to use when guests come for supper. I naively began my search thinking I should easily be able to find lone plates for around $3-$5. There are SOME at that price, but most are around $20. So I've taken up a challenge, to find bargains. Call me cheap - but this is more enjoyable than shelling out boo-coo bucks at every store I enter.

I'm also searching for antique cups and saucers (also having begun my search in the realm of naivety). They are usually $15-$20 each. My goal is again a mere pittance. Want to join me in my quest?

Random thoughts this morning:

My niece, Carrie, had a little boy this morning! Hurray!

It's muddy, brown, overcast but in the 40's today - so yay! I'll take it.

There's an estate sale down the street today - think I'll go check out if they have any antique plates or cups and saucers!

Book group is coming up and we're doing another fascinating book: Epicenter, by Joel Rosenberg.

All for now, Bloggie-dear. Until next time. . .

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall . . .

Should I write something meaningful, or write what's on my heart? Meaningful loses.

The topic of choice today is change. Sister Jacquie posted a picture of herself, Patsy and I taken a few weeks back. It did NOT make my day. Think of a pale, albino tomato with big red lips, faded eyes, and a human body that has been neglected over the last few months(years). That is what I saw in the photo - and the tomato was NOT named Jacquie or Patsy! Although I can't get rid of the picture on other fb profile pages, it was removed from mine within a matter of minutes! Need I explain? I've changed. Gone is the thin, long-haired, young girl that used to live in my mirror. She slowly left with each bite of brownie, each day of sitting instead of moving, and with each new sunrise and sunset. If you younger women are like I used to be, you probably think you won't ever get to this point. Warning! It can happen easier than you think.

This week, when Patrick's girlfriend was visiting, I found myself wanting to show her pictures of a skinny, younger me. And I did. But I wasn't so "transparent" as to tell her WHY I was showing her the photos. She thinks I wanted her to see baby pictures of Pat. "Isn't Patrick cute?!" Translation: "see how exquisite I was?!!" barf.

I think the aging face in the mirror is God's way of preparing us for eternity. We see ourselves getting older, weaker, wrinklier and know our days are numbered. Aging also has a way of humbling those of us who are too concerned with our appearance and it causes one to ponder what makes a person valuable. The inside or the outside?

Am I learning this lesson? Hmmm, I think I'm just beginning. To be fair to God, He has not made me fat. I did that. But the wrinkles and faded eyes are a message from Him - "your body will only last so long."

So as I look in my mirror tomorrow, I need to remember there are two messages for me. One is from the Lord: you are mortal. The other is from my body: respect me.

The End.