Something cool to start out your day!

I don't have time to find the English version at the moment but I think this is a great idea!

Enjoy your day, every one!

Loneliness is a place that I know well. It's the distance between us, and the space inside ourselves...

And I've got a longin'

That's hard to find

Won't give me no peace of mind

Something that I've lived with all along

Days and weeks and months and years

Filling in the time my dear

Tryin' to find the place where I belong

--Annie Lennox "Loneliness" --

I'm almost 56 years old. You'd think at my age most people would have learned their life lessons by now, wouldn't you? Not so for me. I'm going to spill my guts once again so go grab a cup of coffee or cup of tea and settle in. I dunno how long-winded I'm going to get on this one.

Maybe it's from sitting on the couch with my daughter this morning and talking about friendships and self-images and others' perceptions of us. Maybe it comes from doing some more soul-searching lately. Whatever. But I've come to a painful realization of how I've limited my own life in years past. Me. My actions. My reservations about letting people in, letting them get to know me. My fears. My inadequacies, either real or imagined. Oh, this is so hard to admit to the world in general but especially to myself. It is so hard to peel back the layers of skin and see myself as I am, the time I've wasted. The opportunities missed.

You know, shy people are selfish people. Really. We get so wrapped up in worrying about ourselves we forget about how the other person might be feeling in the same situation. We see only our needs, our wants, our yearnings. We don't even begin to think about how the other guy might be feeling the same emotions, the same self-doubts we're feeling as well. Maybe even tenfold compared to ourselves. And we freeze. And we don't reach out. And we go away disappointed. Over. And. Over. And. Over. Again. In ourselves. Ourselves.

I just looked at the calendar on my computer, down where Time is listed. I had a huge shock when I realized it's November 21 and it was 33 years ago today I became a Christian. Especially since I'm writing about the topic I'm writing about at the moment. Because it has been relationships with people within my church that I have limited myself from more than anywhere else in my life. 33 years. Oh, that is painful. Because it's just been lately where things have begun to open up for me. Well, in the past few years, anyway. First it was my friendship with Karen. Then going out to dinner with a couple we've known for 31 years. Then getting on Facebook and...tentatively...putting forth the effort to say hello to those within my church circle, to 'Friend' some of them. Sending notes and cards and emails to people I know. Showing myself friendly. Because, by setting so many limitations on myself these past 33 years I have not shown myself to be very friendly. And it hasn't been because I'm not friendly. It's because I've been afraid to be friendly. Dear Hubby, thru the many different areas he's been involved in thru the years, has gotten to know a lot more people than me. And when people have said to him, "You know, Kris is so nice but she's so quiet!!" he's always amazed by that. He tells them, "You don't know my wife! There isn't a shy bone in her body!" Maybe that's been true in every other venue of my life...but definitely not at church.

What is so humiliating about confessing all this is by looking at it in retrospect I can see these issues have been because of me. Because of my attitude. My building the castle walls of defense around me and blaming everyone around me. Never myself.

Because...you see...by letting myself begin to reach out tentatively and letting that armor crack, by opening myself and allowing myself to be vulnerable...something that is very, very hard for me to do...I'm finding that people in my church are responding to me like everyone else does. That they're finding me nice. And likable. And thoughtful. And funny. And interesting. That I'm not that lump of dough who's been occupying the same pew space for the past 33 years. That I have a voice. That I'm really and truly a person.

Middle-of-the-night Meme

I actually had time earlier this evening to do some browsing and posting. I went to bed at 8 and came to at 11:30 WIDE awake. After tossing and turning a while I gave up and here I am. Again. Lucky you. I wanted to do some more writing just to release whatever it is that compels me to write in the first place. Like an endorphin rush of some sort? I dunno. Whatever it is, getting rid of it will help me go back to sleep. I speak from a lot of experience here.

And so, I rely on my friend Betty in Paraguay once again for inspiration when I'm too tired to come up with anything of my own but feel the need to fill up my little posting box on here:

1. If you could master one sport, what would it be? Golf. Anyone who can hit a little ball with a stick and send it 450 yards or whatever and have it land in a little hole with only a few swings wins my adoration. And Tiger Woods has one of the sweetest swings I've ever seen. With a father who was an avid golfer -- he even caddied as a teen to make extra money and once caddied for Bob Hope and Bing Crosby at a tournament -- I grew up watching lots and lots and lots of golf. Lots.

2. When you make a major purchase, do you go with your gut instinct, or do you do research to make an informed decision? It varies. Major appliances? I go to the store owned by a fellow church member we've known for years and pick up something mid-price between cheapest and best. Nah...come to think of it, it's usually gut instinct.

3. There is an old kids' game that says you can find out what your movie star name would be by using your middle name as your first name and the name of the street you grew up on as your last. What is your movie star name? Ann Broadway.

4. Would you rather give up your favorite music or your favorite food? Without a doubt, my favorite food. Having no sense of taste kind of helps with that decision but even if I could taste, I couldn't exist without music.

5. There are two types of banana preferences. One is pristine yellow, almost to the point of being green; the other is spotty and more ripe. Which is your preference?The greenish one. I can not stand anything mooshy and slimey in my mouth. I can't stand cereal with milk on it, either. I have to have the cereal in a bowl with milk off to the side and eat it by hand like chips.

6. Your favorite tree is? Pink Dogwoods.

7. On a scale of 1-10, how tech savvy are you? Compared to when I first got my computer, I'm an Einstein now. For my age group. Compared to the younger generation probably -2.

8. Has H1N1 touched your family? No, thank the good Lord.

9. Are you an analytical person, or do you just accept things the way they are without questioning or scrutinizing? Well, I'm definitely a person with strong faith in God so I don't do much questioning about the major things in life. I figure He knows best of all in any situation and has gotten us thru some very tough times. I'm not sure I'd categorize myself as 'analytical'. I'm a thinker, a dweller...I keep things close to my chest and do a lot of delving in to myself, coming to conclusions about things that way. Maybe that is analytical. But not in the sense of scientific-analytical. More pyche-analytical.

10. Is your personality more like that of a dog, cat, or Koala? A dog. I'm loyal and friendly and eager to please.

11. Do you keep in touch with friends you made years ago? Yes, I do. But the list has been pared down a lot as time's gone on. In regards to the last question where I mentioned loyalty, I had a tendency to try to hold on to friendships even when they were no longer productive. I've come to the realization as I'm growing older that friendships seem to naturally ebb and flow. I know who my real friends are from the past and I've kept them. I love them dearly, too.

12. You are checking out at a grocery store. In the express lane, there are more people than the regular lanes, but of course, their load is less than those in the regular lanes. Which lane do you choose (assuming you qualify for the express lane) and why? No matter WHAT lane I end up choosing it's always the slowest. That's why I do my grocery shopping at 7 am on Saturdays. Hardly anyone is there.

Give yourself the gift of life on your birthday...get a mammogram!

Many women are afraid of their first mammogram, but there is no need to
worry. By taking a few minutes each day for a week preceding the exam
and doing the following exercises, you will be totally prepared for the
test and best of all, you can do these simple exercises right in and
around your home.

EXERCISE ONE
Open your refrigerator door and insert one breast in door. Shut the door
as hard as possible and lean on the door for good measure.
Hold that position for five seconds. Repeat again in case the first time
wasn't effective enough.

EXERCISE TWO
Visit your garage at 3AM when the temperature of the cement floor is
just perfect. Take off all your clothes and lie comfortably on the floor
with one breast wedged under the rear tire of the car. Ask a friend to
slowly back the car up until your breast is sufficiently flattened and
chilled. Turn over and repeat with the other breast.

EXERCISE THREE
Freeze two metal bookends overnight. Strip to the waist. Invite a
stranger into the room. Press the bookends against one of your breasts.
Smash the bookends together as hard as you can. Set up an appointment
with the stranger to meet next year and do it again.

YOU ARE TOTALLY PREPARED!

AND, just a thought for all the women out there........
MENtal illness, MENstrual cramps, MENtal breakdown,
MENopause............
Ever notice how all of women's problems start with men?.........And
when we have real trouble it's HISterectomy!!!!

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra....

Hard to Find, Supportive, Comfortable
Always Lifts You Up, Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!

(Sent to me by my friend Liz-in-California who I am SO THANKFUL is fine after some questionable results on hers! Love you, Liz!)

Pink Glove Dance for Breast Cancer Awareness

"Our employees put together this video to generate breast cancer awareness throughout our hospital system. We had a ton of fun putting this together and hope it inspires others to join in the cause."

The Staff of Providence St. Vincent Medical Center

Portland, Oregon

It's things like this that make me LOVE my city!

You CAN teach an old dog a new trick....

(Illustration from PictureBook)

Jo Frost is my heroine. Because my years of parenthood are behind me and I know by the results of how my two children turned out that I did a very good job at it, thankyouverymuch -- and let's not forget Dear Hubby's contribution to it, too -- well, with that said I never thought about tuning in to "Supernanny". Then, a while back as I kind of channel-surfed out of boredom, I came across an episode of it and watched. I find Jo amazing. Truly. I have two very, very spirited grandsons and as I've stumbled and bumbled my way thru trying to find solutions to getting some of their behavior under control I hadn't found much to guide me. In all honesty, I hadn't even done any searches or reading about it...I have barely enough time thru my busy days to keep my head above water. But as I sat there watching "Supernanny" the cogs of my over-tired brain began to slowly grind to life and I thought to myself, "Why can't I use some of these techniquest on the grandboys?!" Considering they're with me about 90% of their waking hours, 90% of what they learn about human behavior and what's acceptable or not is coming from me.

I've initiated the Naughty Corner with House Rules listed. Cooper loves it...he'll even go sit on the little bench when he's not naughty. He'll 'pretend' pinch me or 'pretend' bite, then look at me expectantly and I'll say, "You need to go sit in the Naughty Corner, young man." He'll not his head, smile at me, and go sit himself down. A minute later he'll come back and kiss me, then pretend another offense and go back to sit down again. Then, back for a kiss. Another offense. And back to the bench again. This can go on until he runs out of 'naughty' things to do. But when he's truly naughty, it works wonders on him. Dylan, on the other hand, absolutely hates the Naughty Corner and, in all honesty, it doesn't work so well with him. But I do find if I get him off by himself for a minute, hunker down and have him make direct eye contact with me, and tell him why his behavior isn't acceptable he'll listen. We finish it with a big hug and then he's ok.

Another thing that is a great success is explaining to Dylan what behavior is expected of him when we're out in public. Again, down at his level and with eye contact. I ask him if he understands and he says "Yes" and away we go. A perfect example was at Walgreen's the other morning. He prefers to walk beside me now more than he likes riding in the stroller so he holds on to either side of the handlebar - whichever is away from traffic - and I've told him he needs to hold on to it in stores and the library, too. He is very, very good about that. In Walgreen's we'd gone down the aisle where the candy is to buy a couple packets of MnM's for him and Cooper and some yogurt raisins for me...I let him select the candy. In other stores, I let him pick out whatever items we need and place them in our basket -- that goes for selecting fruit or vegetables, too. He loves doing that. As we came up to the check out in Walgreen's a lovely lady who works there and is a grandma also and has 'known' my grandsons from the days of Dylan's infancy happened to be at the register. She's always thrilled to see the boys and is so sweet with them. I let Dylan swipe my Debit card and help punch in my PIN and she stood watching as he concentrated on what I was telling him to do. He behaved SO well and I was so proud of him. I smiled at her and said, "This is one of our good days!" She laughed because she's witnessed some of our bad days. She told Dylan, "You're so lucky, honey. You have such a sweet grandmother." I looked at her like she was out of her mind and said, "Oh no, not true." And she adamantly told me, "Yes, you are. Even on the bad days you handle them with so much love and patience and a lot of grace."

Well.

If that didn't make my day!

And at the library they were as quiet as mice and good as gold.

I think I'm on to something here.

Thank you, Jo.

If you're susceptible to ear worms DONT WATCH THIS VIDEO!

I am HOOKED on this...it's been going round 'n' round in my head all week.

But what a darling song it is....

You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. -- Christopher Robin to Pooh

This was sent to me by my friend Mary:

Exercise Your Brain Today

Be sure to stop at the end of each picture before scrolling further.

Read out loud the text in the triangle below:

More than likely you said, 'A bird in the bush,' and.......

If this IS what YOU said, then you failed to see that the word THE is repeated twice! Sorry, look again.

You may not see it at first but the white spaces spell 'optical' and the blue landscape spells 'illusion'. Look again! Can you see why this painting is called an optical illusion?

What do you see here? This one is quite tricky!

The word 'teach' reflects as 'learn'.

What do you see?


You probably read the word 'me' in brown, but when you look thru ME you will see YOU!

Need to look again?







Alzheimer's Eye Test



Count every "f" in the following text:



FINISHED FILES ARE THE RESULT OF YEARS

OF SCIENTIFIC STUDY COMBINED WITH THE EXPERIENCE OF YEARS.



How many?


WRONG...there are 6. No joke. READ IT AGAIN! Really, go back and try to find the 6 "f''s" before you scroll down. The reasoning behind is further down.



The brain cannot process "OF". Incredible or what? Go back and look again. Anyone who counts the 6 "f''s" the first time is a genius. Three is normal, four is rare.

This illustration is not working on my blog so if the lady isn't moving, just skip it unless you want to know what the results are.

Look at the spinning woman.

If she's spinning right, the right side of your brain is working.

If she is turning left, the left side of your brain is working.

If she turns both ways for you, then you have a 160 or better IQ.

Mercy...I guess I'm a genius, ha!

More Brain Stuff from Cambridge University....

Olny srmat poelpe can raed tihs. I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs psas it on!!

This is where your Great-Uncle Eric is from....

When I first read this I sat and stared at my computer screen and said a long, drawn-out, "Wow!" This is my baby brother. This is the history we shared. This knocked my socks off:

Where I'm From

I am from unorganized sports games that lasted all day, from Coke in glass bottles and Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots.

I am from a big white house on the corner with a haunted attic, from a towering walnut tree and an oft-neglected yard.

I am from Nightshade and cherry trees.

I am from Easter Bunny visits until I was eighteen and tall, loud people, from “Victor!” and Harold and “Cousin Ginger”.

I am from mild insanity and stubbornness.

I am from a parsnip truck and a “Good Time Charlie”.

I am from a complete lack of religiousness. It was not discussed, encouraged, or discouraged. It was a non-issue. My first memory of anything to do with religion was when I watched “Ben Hur” on TV with my mom when I was in my early teens.

I am from a tiny, drab, wet town on the Harbor. One of the landing spots of my somewhat nomadic parents before they finally settled in Vancouver. I am from “Chef Boyardee” spaghetti with hot dogs cut up in it (Yuck!) and Cheerios. I am the baby, the accident, who was so much younger than the rest of the kids that I have very vague memories of them.

I am from an alcoholic uncle who drank himself to death, and from his namesake who followed in his footsteps and died from choking on his own vomit in a jail cell.

I am from two or three boxes of black and white pictures, from a small pouch of antique coins, from my father’s medals from “the War”, from old postcards of England and New England. Mementos of an extended family that I never knew.

I am from old Fords and Ramblers that stunk heavily of stale cigarette smoke.

I am from a tense atmosphere where even though you knew you were loved it was never really shown.

I am from freedom. Freedom to roam from sun-up until sun-down, and often longer than that. Freedom that comes from often too-trusting parents who understood that life’s experiences were best encountered without constant adult supervision.

I am from “Stay tuned to ABC for Batman: In living color!”

I am from a refrigerator packed so full of food it could feed half of starving Africa, from a mother who was convinced that everything in that refrigerator had spoiled. “Victor, smell this!”

I am from psychedelia, from drugs, from bell bottoms and platform shoes. I am from perms for both men and women.

I am from the game of the week (usually the Yankees).

I am from The Jackson Five, The Osmonds, Jody Foster. It feels like we all grew up together.

I am from Goofy learning to drive, from Bugs Bunny and all sorts of politically incorrect cartoons.

Life Lessons

A blog entry Donna wrote the other day brought back memories of two children whose lives have crossed my path. I feel deeply blessed to have known them. I wrote this a few years ago on my original blog:

I worked as a lunch lady in a middle school for several years and I met thousands of kids during my ‘illustrious’ career. Many of them touched my heart but none of them touched it like Andrew and Ashley. I think by the time I'm done telling you about them, they'll have touched your hearts, too.

Andrew was a student the first year I worked at this particular school. He had so many disabilities his aide didn't know where to begin to list them all. He was in a wheelchair. His teeth were all disfigured. He had cerebral palsy. He'd had countless surgeries and shunts installed in his brain. He was a feisty little red-haired Scotsman who couldn't speak but he wasn't shy about letting anyone know if he was unhappy! He wouldn't focus or make eye contact with anyone but that didn't stop me from loving him and talking to him every day as his aide would bring him into the cafeteria. I'd hunker down by his wheelchair and take hold of his hand and talk to him like he was any other kid in the school. One day his aide brought him into the kitchen for a snack and asked if we had any yogurt. I told her sure, we had strawberry and blueberry...which kind did she think Andrew might like? She shrugged and said, "Oh, I don't know. Strawberry, I guess." I looked over at Andrew and I said, "How about if I ask Andrew what he'd like?" She looked at me like I was crazy because he never talked and she said rather flippantly, rolling her eyes, "Sure, go ahead and ask him." I did. I went over and crouched down in front of him and I MADE him look at me by sheer will power. As our eyes connected I asked, "Andrew, we have strawberry and blueberry yogurt. What kind would you like, sweetheart?" It took him a few moments but he spoke out: "Bloooooooooooooberry!!" I patted him on the knee and said, "Blueberry it is, buster," and stood up. Well, my co-worker and the aide were standing there staring at me open-mouthed from shock. I just smiled and said, "Has anyone ever asked Andrew what HE wanted before?" and I went and got his yogurt.

From that day on, Andrew was all mine, heart and soul. I taught him a simple song, an old ball-bouncing song I used to sing when I was a kid called "One, Two, Three, O'Leary". When I'd see him I'd call out, "There's my baby Andrew!” and he would smile from ear-to-ear and call out "Baby Krissy!" If I'd crouch down by his chair to talk to him, he'd reach out with his wobbly hand and pat me on the cheek. He'd tell me "I love you."

The last year I worked there, Andrew became critically ill. He spent most of that year in a children's hospital here in the city. He had a leg amputated, the foot on the other leg taken off, too. His mother cleared it for me to have security access to the ICU camera to Andrew’s room and nursing reports so I could check up on him online when I got home from work. I shed a lot of tears. I sent him cards and photos. I sent up a lot of prayers. And then at the end of that school year I lost my job. I lost contact with Andrew. And it grieved my heart.

I remember the first day I laid eyes on Ashley. It was the first day of school and I was busy putting money on the kids' lunch accounts. I looked up to take money from the next student in line and I froze for a moment...then forced myself to smile and keep on talking. Ashley was the most horribly disfigured child I'd ever laid eyes on. She literally looked like a monster. I had seen a lot of things, working in schools, but nothing had ever prepared me for my first glimpse of Ashley. But she was so happy-go-lucky, so confident, so full of grit...I fell in love with her. We formed an instant bond.

She had been burned over the majority of her body as an infant when she was lying on the floor in front of the fireplace and a spark landed on her sleeper and set her on fire. Only the top of her head and her back up around the shoulder area hadn't been scarred. She hadn't been expected to live. But Ashley overcame the odds...what a fighter! Most kids would reel away in shock when they'd see her for the first time but that didn't stop her...she'd just march right up to anyone and talk their ear off.

She missed a lot of school in the 3 years I knew her. She had one surgery where some kind of synthetic hump was inserted under the skin on her back to stretch it out for more skin grafts. She looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. The medication she took made her drool and slur and stagger around. But any day she could be at school she'd make a bee line for the kitchen and holler out "Krissy!" and come flying into my arms for a big hug and a smooch. And then I’d go off into the cooler to cry a bit and regain my composure.

Last days of school each year were always bittersweet. On Ashley’s last day as an 8th grader, all the 'graduates' were getting ready to head out to a nearby amusement park for a picnic and to spend the day on rides. Parents had volunteered to drive several of the Special Ed kids in their cars. I was standing with my co-worker in the doorway looking outside, enjoying the sunshine and the excitement of the kids. My co-worker spotted Ashley sitting in the back seat of one of the cars, craning her head toward us and waving frantically. Rhonda said, "Krissy, here she comes!" and Ashley popped out of that car and came racing across the parking lot and into my arms for the last time. I hugged that darling little girl with all my might. As she looked up at me and rested her chin on my chest, gazing into my eyes, I cupped that beautiful little face in my hands and kissed her on the forehead. I said, "I love you, Ashley." She said, "I know you do, Krissy, and I love you, too. I will never forget you!" One more hug, then she went dashing back to the car, whooping and laughing and ready to fly off into her future. I didn’t have a single doubt the world would ever be able to ignore that little spitfire.

House Cleaning

I've been browsing thru my old blog archives...all 896 entries of it. I started out with the intention of finding an entry I told my blog friend Donna about but I got sidetracked as I stumbled across several poems I'd written and posted on it. I've been thinking of gleaning thru my old entries, re-posting/rewriting them as I see fit, then deleting it. Dear Hubby, when I told him what I was doing -- or thinking of doing -- strongly disagreed with me. He said it's my history and I should leave it as is. I dunno. But I digress. As usual.

Those of you who've been reading my blog(s) since I began writing in April of 2005 -- and there are a few -- will probably recognize the ones that will follow here. These are the ones I found tonite and now I'm too tired to do any more brain straining and reliving in my blog past. I love my old blog. It's like visiting a friend you haven't seen in years. But it's also fraught with a lot of old memories, old history, that was purged and left behind when I began this one in December 2006. More poems will follow, I'm sure.

I think I said recently that I use poetry to express the things I can't express.

These things dwell in the center of my heart.

The Man You Are Now

In the man you are now

is still the boy you were then.

A seasoned version,

weathered by time,

mellowed by countless hours of peace and contentment

in each other's company.

Rivers and ribbons,

the ebb and flow of two lives

two hearts

so closely entwined

words are not

necessary.

In the man you are now

are the mysteries of a

Cherokee fire,

the embers of which I sensed

smoldering

beneath the surface on

that cold January night.

The eyes already seeing

the future

of what we were to

become.

One.

In the man you are now

is the man I knew you would be.

The father of my children.

The center of my universe.

The one who sees my strengths

but forgives me

my weaknesses.

The man who I can show my tears to

and not be ashamed.

My life.

My sanctuary.

--January 18, 2006

Written for the 32nd 'anniversary' of the day we met.

Infant Stars -- For Dylan As I'm Awaiting Your Arrival

Infant Stars

I can see your face there,

Floating in space.

It looks as if you’re

Gliding

Through eternity

To get here.
Where have you come from,

Little one?

The sky is liquid black.

There is no path.

You’re wrapped in a

Cocoon

Of an ocean of

Stars.
I am here awaiting your

Entry.

I am your grandmother….

And I, too,

Have traveled the same

Route

As those before me

And those

Yet to come.

We are space travelers,

Sojourners.

We come as a flicker of flame

Across the sky,

Just two in a multitude

Of shooting stars.

Infant stars.

Ancient as time.

-- February 3, 2006

My Mother's Hands

They were beautiful, your hands.

Fine-boned and classic.

Your one vanity.

They didn't reach out to

touch me often

but when they did, I knew it was a gesture

of your deepest

love.

Touching wasn't something

that came easily

to you

so when your fingers

stroked

my fevered brow

there was healing there

for me.

Not only did you soothe

my childish ills

but you eased

my childish

spirit.

I knew you loved me.

I did.

It was all there.

In your hands.

I looked down into the

dish water

the other day.

I saw your hands there

in my hands.

The same fine bones.

The same tapered fingers.

And where did they come from...

are they the hands of

your mother

or countless mothers

before us?

I don't know the answer to that.

But I do know

we travel on

from one generation

to another.

It's all there, the history.

It's in our hands.

-- March 5, 2006

My daily jolt has fizzled...

...down to my cup or two in the morning. Someone (I think it was Linda) either commented or emailed me when I was bemoaning my horrific nite sweats and told me by eliminating caffeine and chocolate from their diet it got rid of them for her. Stubborn Swede that I am, at first I balked. I mean, I am a diehard coffee addict! And even tho Menoquil had greatly reduced them to just one 'dewing' (I had a Home Ec teacher in 8th grade who told us we girls don't 'sweat', we 'dew' ) per nite, I wanted the sweats gone!!! So...reluctantly...I decided to give up my two cups per evening at dinner time. And voila`! The sweats are gone! Woooooooooooooo hoooooooooooooooo! So, thank you, Linda, or whoever the kind soul was who urged me to quit the coffee -- or in my case, reduce it.

Yesterday afternoon when Dear Hubby got home I bundled up Dylan and we took off to the library and Fred Meyer...I'd run out of chicken nuggets and ketchup, horrors!!! My grandson informed me at lunchtime, "You go buy more chicken nuggets and ho-ho (his word for ketchup because Santa Claus is red, go figure) at the store, Mommy." When we got there, Fox 12 news was stationed outside the door we went in. There was a devastating fire at an elementary school in our area and the station had set up a school supply drive to help replenish the kids' (something like 460 of them) and teachers' school room supplies. That caught Dylan's attention, as we walk by that school a lot and when he saw the TV van, the microwave antenna sprouting out of it, the cameras and hustle and bustle he wanted to know all about it. As we came back out, one of the reporters was standing there talking to his camera man and another gentleman and Dylan yelled out, "Hi, guys!" They all laughed and said, "Hi!" back. As the female anchor came out of the van with a cup of coffee in her hand, Dylan yelled out, "Hi!" and waved at her as well, practically under her nose. She laughed and bent down to him and said, "Well, hello to you, too!" Thankfully he didn't interrupt any broadcasting, haha! Well, it's my fault the kid doesn't know a stranger...we greet everyone we meet as we walk all over.

Friday! The boys will be here soon...gotta scoot. Rain today.

Sigh....

Blame this on Betty....

I spend a lot of time at Betty's, HA! :

1. What was the last song you listened to? "Looking for a City" by the Chuck Wagon Gang, this afternoon just before the grandboys went home. They love to dance around the house to it.

2. Have you ever had “buyer’s remorse” over anything? Yes, for my digital camera. I'm glad I bought it for Dear Hubby's sake because he more or less took it over after I let it sit for months in my desk. I can't seem to get the hang of it and I found out I wasn't as interested in it as I thought I would be.

3. What is something in your life that you are thankful for now that you didn’t think you would be at the time of the event? (Something that seemed ill-timed, inconvenient or hurtful which turned out to be a good thing) The year 1999 was an absolutely AWFUL year for me in a lot of ways. Spiritually challenging, emotionally challenging, physically challenging. I was hospitalized that October with what was originally thought to be a heart attack...thankfully it wasn't...but those 4 days I spent in the hospital not knowing what was wrong with me really made me stop and do some serious re-prioritizing of my life. In retrospect, it was a year that probably saved my life.

4. Do you watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade every year? Nope. I think it's pretty corny, actually.

5. Share a quote, scripture, poem or lyric which has been an inspiration to you lately. "A day hemmed in by prayer rarely unravels."

6. This is meant to be a fun question, and this is a G-rated blog, but please share a “guilty pleasure,” something that you enjoy that’s probably not the most edifying, time-worthy or healthy thing you could be indulging in. Eating rice chips at the moment, just a few minutes before going to bed.

7. What Thanksgiving food are you looking forward to? Pumpkin mousse

8. What is your favorite book to read to children, or what was your favorite childhood book? It was a series of books by Maud Hart Lovelace called the "Betsy/Tacy" books. LOVED THEM!!!!!!

9. Do you collect anything? Outside of dust balls under the furniture, I collect angel items. Not so much now as I did in the past but I have a pretty good collection of them.

10. Gift bags or wrapping paper? I LOVE gift bags!!! I am L A Z Y when it comes to wrapping gifts...I think gift bags are some of the best creations ever.

11. Share an after-school memory from when you were younger. What was your routine like on an average day? I loved coming in from school, scrambling into my play clothes -- this was back in the day when girls had to wear dresses/skirts to school -- and running out to play, play, play until dinner time.

12. True story: Once, in a job interview, I was asked this question and told there would be no clarifying; I simply had to answer the question: “When you’re fishing, do you feel for the fish?” So what about you? When you're fishing, do you feel for the fish?? Not one bit.

Trick or Treat Memories...

Let Brotherly Love Continue...

And they tell me this is going to be fun...

Gotta build up some energy!

I'm not tired!

"And ME!!" either!

Take a look at THIS!

My best friend Lizzee sent me this most amazing story. I had to share it with you. If anyone has ever seen Daniel Day Lewis' amazing acting job in "My Left Foot" they'll understand the effort it must have taken this gentleman to create his art:

Pictures from a Typewriter

He lived at Rose Haven Nursing Home
( Roseburg, OR) for years. Paul Smith, the man with extraordinary talent was born in Philadelphia on September 21, 1921 with severe cerebral palsy. Not only had Paul beaten the odds of a life with spastic cerebral palsy, a disability that impeded his speech and mobility but also taught himself to become a master artist as well as a terrific chess player even after being devoid of a formal education as a child.
"When typing, Paul used his left hand to steady his right one. Since he couldn't press two keys at the same time, he almost always locked the shift key down and made his pictures using the symbols at the top of the number keys. In other words, his pictures were based on these characters ...... @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ .. Across seven decades, Paul created hundreds of pictures. He often gave the originals away. Sometimes, but not always, he kept or received a copy for his own records. As his mastery of the typewriter grew, he developed techniques to create shadings, colors, and textures that made his work resemble pencil or charcoal drawings.."
This great man passed away on June 25, 2007, but left behind a collection of his amazing artwork that will be an inspiration for many..