Long Hollow

A Note From Your Waiter: Do Not Call me Toots

 

Do not call me Toots.

My name is Barbara. If you forget it and need my attention, you can call me "ma'am", or say "excuse me" or "pardon me".

But Toots? Per Wikipedia, Toots is a slang term for "babe" or "sweetie" or "honey," or, more-negatively, "tart" or "prostitute."  

Who, or what, do you think I am - or perhaps I should ask, who do you think you are - that you can be so disrespectful to a stranger?

I am a part-time waiter right now, because I need the extra money to help pay for my kids' college tuitions so I can afford my own...to support my writing and photography passions...to get me up and away from the computer I'm glued to the rest of the time, to be active and talk to people, which I love.

But waiting tables in a winery restaurant isn't my dream job, and I'm looking for something else, but what if it was? What if this was what I wanted to do the rest of my life? Serving people, helping them relax and enjoy themselves...there are worse jobs out there, far less enjoyable and rewarding. And if I make it look easy...well, believe me, it takes a set of skills that a lot of people do not have.

Oh, and if you arrive before the restaurant opens, please be patient. It will be a few minutes before your order can be taken because there are just some things that I need to take care of first...

 

The three women arrived early, before the restaurant opened for business. They were already seated at a table with water and menus, courtesy of our office manager who works a normal 9 to 5 job, when I walked in and jumped right to work, bringing up the computer so I could enter orders, pulling the reds out of the chiller so they will be room temperature, tucking an order pad and pen into my apron. They were younger than me. Early to mid-thirties, I guessed.

I was behind the counter preparing the register when one waved a menu at me and said "We're ready, Toots."

Toots? my ears repeated, asking themselves if they heard what they thought they heard. 

"Okay, just a second," I somehow managed to say with a smile and not one ounce of saccharin sweetness. 

I made sure to state my name, loud and clear, when I took their order. I treated them with respect, and they left large donations to the World of Children Fund, the nonprofit group we support in lieu of tips. And they didn't call me Toots again.

 

But speaking of children...

 

I'm all for taking your children out to eat with you. I know how confining life with small ones can be. Besides, what better way to teach them how to behave in a restaurant? 

But if your children are still too young to learn, get a babysitter. Stay home. Or at the very least, accept your waiter's offer of a high chair so your little one doesn't wander around bothering other guests and touching breakable glassware and expensive vases...

This young couple had two precious little girls, one about 7 months old, the other about 2 years old. Despite several offers, they refused a high chair for the 2-year-old, instead allowing her to stand in the chairs or wander about the restaurant, unconcerned about the other patrons or the fragile wine glasses or silverware she was touching...until I uttered a warning out of fear she would hurt herself, which scared the little girl into staying close to her parents.

For awhile.

Still, they were a cute couple and I didn't have many other customers. There were no broken glasses, no falls from the chair, no complaints. And after they left with lots of tips from me about places to visit in Austin, and I was sweeping up all of the cracker and bread crumbs littering the floor under and around their table, I remembered another floor covered in crackers...

One evening when our oldest was in the high chair and saltine cracker stage, Tom and I had a serious craving for seafood, so we took a drive out to our favorite restaurant. By the time we left, a three foot radius around our son's high chair was covered in cracker crumbs.

I was mortified, but wasn't sure what to do, other than leave a large tip and not return until our kids were old enough to know that saltines were not edible playthings.

Ah, paybacks.

Which I guess means they'll get theirs some day, too, both the young couple and the woman who called me Toots. Just another circle of Life.

And that makes me smile, because I'm human, after all.

(Hey, wait a minute! I never called a waiter Toots. Just proof that Life is also unfair and has a warped sense of humor, I suppose.)

Five Things on Friday

 

 

1. Our property is dotted with small iron crosses, marking the resting places of so many precious furry or feathered or scaly loved ones we've been blessed to know. I miss them all. The one above is Charly's and Frankie's.

 

2. I will never get rich monetarily through my blog, but the friendships I've formed because of it are priceless. I've met so many supportive, encouraging, talented friends, and two of them have recently published books. I didn't hesitate to buy them because they are both wonderful, evocative writers, and I feel confident touting them here even though I haven't had time to read either one.  

Love Always Wags Its Tail, by Kathy H. Porter, is a collection of short essays about the dogs in her life. Wolf Pascoe shares what it's like being an anesthesiologist in Breathing for Two.

Follow the links to their blogs and you'll find information about the books. (I received no monetary compensation for these shout-outs - only friendship and support for my own writing.)

 

3. The next time you go out to eat and the place is packed and you start to get irritated because you feel your waiter is ignoring you, please take a deep breath, realize you are not the only customer in the place and that he/she can only do so much at one time, and please, please, please remember your manners. Thank you.

(Oh. And if the website suggests reservations, either make a reservation or don't get upset if you can't be seated. Especially if you're bringing 7 of your friends.) 

 

4. Back at the beginning of January, I decided I would start getting up at 4:30 a.m. instead of 5:30 a.m. so I would have time to work out and/or write before heading to work, if someone happened to call me out. (That's the life of a substitute teacher - you have to be flexible!)

Well, I finally did it. Once. This week. Yay, me!

 

5. For the past week or so, I've spent hours tormenting myself, listening to one You Tube video after another of potential songs for the mother/son dance at the upcoming wedding.

I just sat here at my computer and cried and cried. It was beautiful agony, I tell you, reliving those mom memories. But here's one that made me laugh, even though I wouldn't do this myself..

(Actually, that theme from the Ninja Turtles brings back so many memories, I almost started crying in this one, too!)

 

Nancy at A Rural Journal inspired me to start my Five Things on Friday, although I mutilated her better-alliterated version, 5 Facts Friday, so I encourage you to read hers and add your own if you're so inclined! And I remembered Mrs. 4444 has a regular Friday Fragments hop, so I'll be linking up there, too. It's a great way to tie up all those loose ends from the week!

Hope you have a great weekend!

Thanksgiving Comes First

Halloween is behind us. According to the calendar, the next holiday here in the states is Veteran's Day, followed by Thanksgiving, but have you noticed there are already Christmas commercials on the TV and jingle bells are taking over the stores?

For the third year in a row, I'm joining blogger "Suldog" Jim Sullivan in his outspoken stance on giving Thanksgiving its due time before we're all wrapped up in red and green and tied with a fancy bow. 

For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven...

~Eccleciastes 3:1

I wrote this last year, but it's still just as true:  This whole campaign isn't just about Thanksgiving. It's about time and seasons and silence and space and simplifying.

It's about focusing on one thing at a time and giving it all you've got, everything it deserves. It's about truly experiencing a season, thinking about what it means and being in the moment, not rushing ahead. 

If you feel you don't have enough time to prepare for Christmas if you wait until after Thanksgiving, perhaps you're making it too complicated. Trying to do too much. Focusing on the wrapping on the box instead of what's inside.

Time goes by too fast as it is and life has gotten more and more complicated. 

I’ve learned that we can do anything, but we can’t do everything… at least not at the same time. Timing is everything.

~Dan Millman 

Timing is everything. Let's take time to relish and focus. Let's slow down and simplify. Let's take things one at a time. 

But, as one friend said, "The only way you will EVER change this is to hit them in the pocketbook." So please join your voice and your pocketbook with me to remind the retailers that...

 

Please hop over and read Suldog's post HERE and another beautiful essay about Thanksgiving HERE. And if you're on Facebook, like the page HERE and then share it with your friends!

Okay, what the heck. While you're at it, click on the little "Share This" button at the bottom of my post to share it on Google+ or Facebook or Twitter or Pinterest or wherever you like to share. Help spread the word so our voices get LOUD. 

Almonds and other sweet!s of the week

He was dirty and carried a cardboard sign ever closer to my car that said something like "Homeless Need a Job Hungry God Bless." 

I focused on the "hungry" and rolled down my window. My son was with me, so I felt safe.

"Would you like some almonds?" I asked, holding out a snack-sized ziplock bag full of them. I always have almonds with me to ward off hunger pains in a healthy way when I'm out running errands or on a trip. I hate being hungry.

"That would be great," he answered, taking them from me. "Thank you."

The light changed. I moved forward slowly, but he walked faster toward the intersection where his backpack rested. I saw him drop his sign, but then we were past, continuing our journey.

I couldn't see what happened next in his. I like to think he dropped to the grass and ate some almonds, that he really was grateful for them and not just begging for drug or alcohol money.

I also like to think another car came by with a legitimate job offer for him and that he took it and turned his life around and then helped another corner person get moving in the right direction.

It doesn't hurt to think big.

 

Saturday: seeing a photography friend you met while at work again; talking about writing with other writers; finally hearing Duck Soup; dancing; summer nights on a hill above a lake

Sunday: watching babies and little kids in church; helping a dear friend celebrate her birthday; a call from your son; watching a movie with your sweetie

Monday: a call from a friend, even though it was mostly full of sad news; a walk at dusk 

Tuesday: a glimpse of the Great Blue Heron and your duck family; watching your old puppy swim

Wednesday: being addressed as 'Young Lady' at the grocery store; a clean house; your husband alerting you to a painted bunting; forgetting all of your to-do's to just watch the birds at your feeder 

Thursday: watching a baby duck grow day by day; relaxed hours playing catch-up with a dear friend; joining a bunch of crazy middle-aged women for a midnight movie

Friday: getting to sleep in after a late night out; iced coffee on a hot summer day; $400 in free jewelry; pink clouds; sangria on a summer night

Saturday: a road trip with your son (double sweet!... going to see your parents!); an in-person hug from your sister; eating at a Mexican food restaurant you've been going to for almost 50 years

Sunday: the sound of rain; your daddy's bacon, eggs and biscuits for breakfast; someone stopping to see if you need help when you stop on the side of the road to take photos of old trucks; having almonds in your car to give to someone in need

 

I'm not sure how they end up out of work and hungry, possibly homeless, these corner people who stand near intersections holding signs and taking almonds or spare change from open windows.

Did they drop out of school, like me? Are they habitual liars, to others and themselves, to the point that their families had to distance themselves? Do they even have families, a mother or father whose heart aches with worry and helplessness? Did one mistake lead to another and another until the weight of that burden crushed the possibility of any other chances or hope for better, and their only relief is from drugs or alcohol? Has misplaced pride bound them in its chains?

It's easy to jump to conclusions. To judge.

But I think it's a better use of time to smile and share your almonds, to say a prayer for the corner people and then one of thanks for all of your own blessings, like a job and home and family, and to vow never to take them for granted. 

Because for all of us, life can change in an instant.

Just another good reason to keep track of the sweet! moments in each day... and to carry extra almonds in your car.

 

A Photography, Writing, Duck Soup, Fajitas, and Birthday Cake Weekend

Several months ago, on a slow Saturday at the winery bistro, I waited on a man and his wife. The man had a Nikon, so of course I started asking him a jillion questions and talking photography.

Their son had gotten married that weekend, so I gave him my email address and he sent me the link to the photos he took (fantastic!) and some websites to check out for posting pics, etc. 

Well, this past Saturday Steve (that's his name) dropped in for lunch and a photography shoot. He sat by a window and was able to snap images of some hummingbirds that never stay put long enough for me to grab my camera and capture.

It was a busier Saturday than the first so we didn't get to talk shop as much, but it was still fun seeing him in person again.

Isn't it amazing how friendships are born?

From work I drove straight to my writing critique group meeting. I finished my latest chapter too late for everyone to critique this time (the key thing is I finished it!), but I benefit just from meeting with these women and sharing critiques of their works.

Three of the members were pitching their works-in-progress at the Writer's League of America conference and couldn't make the meeting; before we left we heard via phone that all three had been asked to submit chapters to agents! I'm in good company, that's for sure. (I hope they let me keep meeting with them!)

From there, I headed to a concert-in-progress by Duck Soup. Our school's previous band director, Les Huff, is a member and I had yet to hear him play in this band. I finally made it!

The place was packed and I had fun listening, snapping a few photos, and dancing in place from the sidelines, but even more fun when I met up with Les' wife and made it out to the dance floor during the last set.

That's Les on the end. Don't let all the gray hair and bald heads fool you... these guys can rock!

Here's a better one of Les. Notice the trumpet at his feet? Multi-talented! 

The dance floor was packed, with all ages represented...

(I'm not going to say where they were playing because this restaurant, previously one of my favorites and one I've given tons of free publicity in the past, has decided to put a minimum tab of $50 on all outside seats during these concerts. So I won't be eating there anymore or mentioning them on my website.)

Sunday after Mass Tom and I drove to a friend's house to help her celebrate her birthday, which was actually today (happy birthday, Leslie!)

Fajitas, birthday cake, and friendship - the perfect ending to a beautiful weekend.

(Today Tom and I went hunting snakes - but I'll save that for another post.)

Hope your weekend was filled with music, friendship, and things that bring a smile to your face!

 

 

Peacemakers, Busybodies and the Fine Art of Forgiveness

Saturday night Tom and I watched Riding in Cars with Boys, an old Drew Barrymore movie from 2001.

I missed it in 2001, along with a lot of other movies that came out during that time, plus or minus 3 years. We were busy with kids and preparing the foundation for our house.

If you're like me and missed it back then, in a nutshell Drew plays a smart girl who gets pregnant at 15 back in 1965. It devastates her family, especially her father, so hoping to make peace, and against her better judgement, she sets her dreams of going to college aside and marries the father of her child. He ultimately becomes a drug addict. 

Based on a memoir by Beverly D'Onofrio, it's not so much a tragedy, though, as a story of friendship, determination, and ultimately, forgiveness. The ending caught me by surprise and I cried - not just "teared up" but cried as the credits rolled.

It was a good, cleansing cry, though... tears that are triggered by hope.

That's what I took away from the movie, a message of hope that love is so strong, it can survive for years buried deeply under pride, hurt feelings, disappointment... all of those feelings you open yourself up to when you allow yourself to love or even just care about another person. I think it's that impression they make on your soul that can't be filled or matched by anyone else or anything.

But relationships can't stay the same, because we don't. We're constantly changing and so is everyone else. 

When you accept that ... when you don't take other people's decisions personally... when you don't clog up the connection between you with pride, you're usually able to hang on to that relationship, at least in some form.

It probably won't be the same.  It might be better... it might be less. But without it, you won't be wholly yourself. There are extreme situations, of course, cases of physical or mental abuse, but I'm just talking about ordinary friendships and families that get tugged and pulled and stretched thin by life. 

In the movie, the characters finally stopped focusing on the things that separated them. They each chose to reach through all of the junk they'd piled up between them and at the moment they connected, those piles became dust, losing their importance. It took a lot of courage, knocking aside all of that pride, but the movie points out how rewarding it can be when we muster that courage to forgive. Totally worth the risk.

 

I believe we are each the sum of other people.

I believe every cell of our body connects us to family, past and present... Every person we encounter in life, each friend who touches our heart, leaves an impression on our souls... The books we read, movies we watch, songs we hear, become filed in the library of our minds, words and thoughts given to us by another for us to ponder and use to tweek our own thoughts and apply to our experiences.

We are all connected, yet we are also unique, because no one has the same combination... We are each on a different adventure, following our own distinct path that might overlap and twist tightly with another's but will never be exactly the same.

 

And that's why I've been sticking my nose into other people's business lately, even before I watched the movie. 

I resisted, believe me. I think there are times when you just need to mind your own business.

But two dear friends of mine who once-upon-a-time were the best of friends to each other had a falling out a few years ago. Somewhere along the way, something happened. I don't know what... I only know that one decided to cut off all communication with the other and I was left in the middle.

My friendship with each continued just as it had. It went on that way for years, but something came over me this week and I stuck my nose into the void with an email, asking for some kind of communication with the other. I didn't ask what happened to cause the rift. I don't need to know. That truly is none of my business. But as their friend, I believe their friendship is my business and I should at least try to help them make some kind of re-connection for their own sakes and peace of mind. 

It's possible I've lost a friend over this, but I couldn't stand sitting back and witnessing this any longer without trying to do something.

And then it happened again. I found out that two friends of mine who I knew had been really good friends not too long ago had drifted apart. One told me his emails and phone calls had gone unanswered, so he had just accepted it and moved on, although he had no idea what had happened or if he had caused offense in some way. It had been three years.

I couldn't help myself. I sent an email to the other one. Turns out, the second friend had been going through a tough time; his mother had dementia/alzheimer's and he had spent all of his free time caring for her. In the meantime, the first friend had changed emails and phone numbers and wasn't on Facebook, so he had given up trying to contact him.

I provided all of the contact information and stepped back, with a good feeling in my heart.

So be forewarned... I'm a busybody and not ashamed of it. You're important to me.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. ~ Matthew 5:9

 

Disclaimer: I'm not trying to be holier than thou. Even at the moment, I have a nephew who isn't speaking to me because of an argument we had a few years ago. I believe in forgiveness and acceptance, but not in letting other people take advantage of you or lie about you. 

God says "Love your neighbor as yourself", which to me says we first have to love and respect ourselves in order to love others. 

But I do believe in giving others the benefit of the doubt, accepting their humanity and flaws (and hoping they accept ours), and trying to understand what they're going through.

Most of all, I believe in forgiveness and the power of love.

So you should know that if you don't want me to be your friend, you're going to have to work really, really hard at it. I don't let go of people easily.

We do not need to seek for love, we only need to seek and remove the barriers we have built against it. ~ Rumi

"The Best Laid Schemes..." (What happened to Monday and Tuesday?)

According to my calendar, I'm in Galveston right now, visiting my friend Ann, finally getting to see the cute little Victorian house she's fixing up and browsing through some wonderful eclectic shops.

Things don't always go according to plan, though, do they?

Instead of strolling the tourist-free beaches and staying up late talking and laughing with my dear friend, I've spent the past two days glued to this old computer, spending hours and hours on projects that should have only taken half the time.

(I'm beginning to wonder if shoveling coal into it might make it go any faster. I don't think it could hurt!)

Ann's free days evaporated, too, anyway, complicated by family schedules. We're going to try again in the next month or two. Why are our lives still so complicated?

I'm grateful for the work that's keeping me glued to the computer, though. One is a photo shoot from a couple of weeks ago that forced me to learn Lightoom. I'm by no means an expert, but I've learned so much, thanks to tutorials and photography friends (thank you, Beth!) and learning something new is so much fun! (And frustrating. And agonizing.)

Unfortunately, one thing I've learned is that my E: drive on my computer has gone kaputz. Nothing like a few hurdles in your path to keep you on your toes, right?

The second project was a review for BlogHer with a quick turnaround, as in, I learned about it yesterday and the deadline was this morning. And I (pretty much) turned it in on time. Ahem.

It wasn't a typical product review... more of a personal essay on health and aging and menopause, so I was happy I was chosen for the project.

I can't believe it's already Wednesday, though. Here are a few highlights from the past few days...

 

My mother turned 80! Middle-son Daniel went with me for the celebration at my parents' house. I enjoy road trips with Daniel - he helps me find good radio stations and doesn't mind me singing along loudly, even when I don't really know the words. 

It was a quick visit with family, highlighted by fried Gulf shrimp, birthday cake, breakfast by Daddy, plenty of coffee, Mexican food, and my mother in a birthday sombrero... 

...which matches this one of my dad from last month...

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Oldest-son Tommy ran his first full marathon! If you knew all the nights I stayed up with him while he struggled to breathe with his asthma, you'd really understand how very proud I am! And how relieved I was that he crossed that line, safe and sound and breathing!

This photo was snapped by his sweetheart, Kirby. She completed her second half-marathon that day. 

Yay, Tommy and Kirby!

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I won a blog drawing!! This cute cup featuring a 'doodle' by Cyndee at Eloise's Collage arrived in my mailbox Friday. I love it! Thank you, Cyndee! 

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Remember the Thanksgiving Comes First campaign? Thanks to Suldog, I found out about a petition to "Tell Target to Save Thanksgiving". If you want to add your name, click HERE.

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It rained yesterday! I mean, really and truly rained!

Well, not enough to capture a photo of the actual rain, but I did get one this morning of a dew-covered wildflower...

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Last but not least, Hilary at the Smitten Image awarded me a Post of the Week for As if I were beside you... Thank you, Hilary!

(Click the icon below to go read the other POTW and see her wonderful photography.)

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I hope you're having a wonderful week, even if your plans went agley like mine!

(At least I wasn't left with "nought but grief an' pain"...)

 

...The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

~from To a Mouse by Robert Burnes

"It was the thing to do..." (Thank you, Veterans!)

"Lord, if your people need me, I will not refuse the work. Your will be done."

~St. Martin of Tours

 

 

My big brother Buster was headed to Viet Nam, saying his goodbyes, when I stood beside him in this photograph and smiled. I had no idea what was ahead of him. This was probably taken before his first tour of duty and so he had only a vague idea himself what to expect.

When he volunteered for his second tour, however, he knew full well what he was stepping into...but he did it anyway. 

 

 

My dad was in high school when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He joined the Navy soon after high school graduation because his country was at war and "it was the thing to do." In the next twenty-two months he traveled a long way from Texas aboard the U.S.S. Geneva...to places like the Philippines, the Marshall Islands, China, Burma, Japan.

Before he turned twenty, he had seen cities that had been destroyed by war and piles of dead bodies waiting to be buried. 

A few years later, his little brother Bobby followed his lead and joined the Navy, and many years later, so did my brother Donnie and two nephews.

 

Pop, my wonderful father-in-law, missed out on World War II, but joined the Air Force in time for the Korean War. He worked base supply in Okinawa, supporting bombers flying missions to Korea...about 100 aircraft every day.

He re-enlisted, got married, and hopped around the globe...living in England, Germany, and over a year in Pakistan, separated from his family (the other heroes - Mom had 8 teenage and younger boys to deal with by herself!)...visiting a dozen other countries...eventually staying put for awhile in Maryland, working with NSA (and a second job at the bowling alley to make ends meet), until his retirement.

A lifetime of service and sacrifice for this country.

 

 

My husband Tom was raised in a military family. For him it was normal to move every few years to someplace completely different...by the time he was eight or nine years old, he had lived in three countries!

He grew up on a tight budget - hand-me-downs, powdered milk and only two cookies a day...period! And yet as soon as he could he joined the service...the Coast Guard. Among other things, he helped rescue fisherman off the coast of Alaska.

Four of his brothers also joined the service (three career Air Force, just like their dad, and another Coast Guard) and the youngest joined the Army Reserves. Now the next generation is following in their footsteps: two Air Force and one Coast Guard...and even marrying other service members!

I think it's very fitting that Veterans Day shares November with Thanksgiving, a day when we slow down to remember and be grateful for things that we usually take for granted, because veterans, despite the sacrifices they make for all of us, probably don't even make it onto our Thanksgiving thank-you list.

That's how much most of us take them for granted - as well as the freedoms they protect for us. Even when our country isn't at war, they go where they are needed to unfamiliar places, away from extended family, often living on a minimum salary. To many, they are a symbol of war, not peace, and sadly become targets of derision, scorn, blame... and even violence, like the sad incident at Ft. Hood a few years ago.

They deserve to be thanked every day of the year. A friend of mine says that when he's in a restaurant and sees a man or woman in uniform, he secretly pays their bill. What a wonderful idea! I think more of us should go out of our way every day to show our appreciation, but I'm glad there is at least one special day where we shine a spotlight on them, remember their sacrifices and make clear our gratitude.

Thank you Daddy, Tom, Pop, Buster, Donnie, Uncle Bobby, Uncle Howard, Kenny, Steve, Joe, Robbie, John, Sheila, Michael, Tom, Lynn, Robbin, Evan...and all of the other Veterans, past and present, out there! Because of you, we're free to go about our daily lives, without a thought in the world to how much that freedom costs.

But let's hope we do remember the price, as well as those who, through their actions, say "Don't worry. I got this."

(If this sounds familiar, it's a re-post from last year and the year before, with just a few tweeks.)

 

Keeping First Things First

I've been in a quandary.

A few weeks ago I was approached by Shutterfly about a Christmas card promotion. I would get 50 free cards plus be able to offer three of my readers 25 free cards each.

I've always wanted to send out those beautiful photo Christmas cards, but instead, I went the frugal route by printing my own photos and tucking them into cheap, cheap cards. More recently, I've gone the newsletter route with a few photos included on the page.

...And then I tuck the whole thing into a cheap, cheap card.

By doing this promotion, I would finally have beautiful, professional photo cards! Of course I said YES!

When I received the email full of details, well, that's when I sunk into the quandary. They wanted me to post it this week. 

And I just couldn't do it.

You see, last year I joined my friend Suldog's "Thanksgiving Comes First" campaign, trying to urge businesses to hold off marketing Christmas until after Thanksgiving.

Oh, believe me, I tried to figure out a way around it so I could get some of those pretty cards. I even started writing a post, but I just couldn't finish it. I mean, my gosh, forget Thanksgiving... we haven't even celebrated Halloween! Or All Saint's Day. Or Veteran's Day. It's just too early to think about Christmas cards.

Because this whole campaign isn't just about Thanksgiving. It's about time and seasons and silence and space and simplifying.  It's about focusing on one thing at a time and giving it all you've got, everything it deserves. It's about truly experiencing a season, thinking about what it means and being in the moment, not rushing ahead. 

If you feel there's not time to prepare for Christmas if you wait until after Thanksgiving, perhaps you're making it too complicated. Trying to do too much. 

Time goes by too fast as it is and life has gotten more and more complicated. I used this quote in a recent post, but it's appropriate here, too...

I’ve learned that we can do anything, but we can’t do everything… at least not at the same time. Timing is everything.

~Dan Millman 

Timing is everything. Let's take time to relish and focus. Let's slow down and simplify, take things one at a time. 

For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven... Eccleciastes 3:1

Suldog has some great ideas for how to get businesses on board with this. He pointed out that Nordstrom's has already emphasized they won't be filling the aisles with Christmas until after Thanksgiving. So I'm giving them a little shout-out here. (Yay, Nordstrom's!)

To their credit, Shutterfly's home page features Halloween items. But they were asking me to fill mine with Christmas.

One idea Suldog has is to offer merchants free advertizing on our blogs, so I'm going to follow his lead and offer any retailer a full-size ad, for one day, where my blog post usually goes, if the ad says you promise to not have Christmas merchandise on your sales floor prior to the day following Thanksgiving (and you uphold that promise!)

I'm going to borrow a portion of Suldog's post to illustrate why I think the "Thanksgiving Comes First" campaign is important. (He's talking about an episode of Mister Rogers...)

On one of his shows, Fred was explaining the concepts of noisy and quiet. In order to illustrate the difference, he took his television audience to see a musician friend of his.

Fred had the musician, a percussionist, play his many instruments. Some were very loud, while others were soft and gentle. Afterward, Mister Rogers looked into the camera and spoke. He said, "In music, the silences are just as important as the loud parts."

The silences are just as important as the loud parts.

That’s a very profound statement. It’s true, isn’t it? Without the silences, it’s all just noise. The silences – the pauses, the gaps, the unfilled spaces – are what give the notes their power and meaning. And when it comes to a holiday, the silences – the quiet times preceding (or even within) the holiday – are extremely important. They give the celebration its power and meaning. That’s why I care so deeply about this. We all need some silences. They’re just as important as the loud parts.

Amen, Suldog.

UPDATE! BREAKING NEWS!...

I just received an email from Shutterfly saying "We completely respect your stance. If you could try to get the post up by the first week of December, it would be much appreciated."

Yay! Thank you, Shutterfly! 

When you're down and troubled...

"...and you need a helping hand. And nothing, nothing is going right..."

 

"Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there..."

I covered for our church secretary yesterday afternoon so she could keep a doctor's appointment. It doesn't pay much, but sitting in her chair even for a short time I sense the pulse of our parish in a way that's impossible to feel from just attending weekly Mass and dropping a check or two in the offering plate.

In the two hours I sat there yesterday afternoon, two people approached our church for assistance. First, an elderly woman called, needing help with paying her rent. I gave her the number for our St. Vincent de Paul Society because that's what they do, help people in our parish with electric bills, rent, doctor's bills, you name it. If someone calls who isn't in our parish, they let them know where to turn.

Soon afterward, a young man stepped into the foyer, his face wearing a mixture of desperation, hope, gratitude, anxiety and relief. He had contacted SVP but missed the return call from our member and came up to the church, hoping to find her there. Even though I wasn't the person he sought, he thanked me and blessed me anyway, patting my arm in gratitude, tears edging the corners of his eyes.

"... to brighten up even your darkest night. You just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again. Winter, spring, summer or fall...all you have to do is call, and I'll be there. You've got a friend."

I didn't know the young man. I'm not sure if he's a member of our church or not - the St. Vincent de Paul Society does their best to help all in need regardless of their beliefs.

But I imagined him to be a young father trying to help his family, responsibility and love overcoming any feelings of shame he felt for having to ask for help. Or maybe he was a son, trying to get help for his elderly parents.

All I know is, before heading up to the church, I had to sit and pay some bills before late charges were tacked on and the gloom cast by our dwindling bank account still lingered in my heart knowing there were still more to pay today.

Yet witnessing the desperate hope and gratitude of this young man, I immediately gave thanks myself that, dwindling funds or not, at least I had money to pay them.  

 "If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds and that old north wind begins to blow, keep your head together and call my name out loud. Soon, you'll hear me knocking at your door."

Then I remembered the twenty raffle tickets I shoved in my purse two weeks ago. Our parish's annual Oktoberfest is coming up on October 8 and the proceeds, including those from the raffle tickets, help fund our St. Vincent de Paul Society, as well as our other church organizations, like the Women's Guild that, among other things, provides school supplies for low-income families and Easter baskets for nursing home residents.

Despite good intentions to start peddling those raffle tickets right away, they're still right where I shoved them, buried in the bottom of my purse, along with forgotton pennies, crumpled gas receipts and those good intentions.

If I could, I would just buy them all myself, plus some, but I can't. I'll buy a couple, but starting today, with the old women's voice and the young man's face in my mind, I'm peddling the heck out of the rest of them to everyone I meet, starting with you.

I hope I sell so many I have to run up to the church for more!

So here's the deal. For a $10 ticket, you get a chance at 5 different prizes and you don't have to be present to win.

1st prize - $5000 gift card
2nd prize - Maid service for 1 year (or equivalent value gift card of $3000)
3rd prize - Apple iPad 2 (or equivalent value gift card of $800)
4th prize - American Girl Doll or Electric Scooter (estimated value $450)
5th prize - Weber Performance Charcoal Grill (or equivalent value gift card of $450)

I confess that in all the years I've been buying and selling these tickets, I've never won and neither have the people I've sold them to. But I keep hoping - that's what these tickets are all about, right? Giving hope?

If you're interested in buying one or two or twenty, e-mail me at barbarashallue (at) yahoo (dot) com and I'll let you know how to get your ticket or tickets. But whether or not you buy any, please say a prayer that enough money is raised to help all of those who will need it in the coming year. 

"Ain't it good to know you've got a friend when people can be so cold. They'll hurt you and desert you...and take your soul if you let them...oh, but don't you let them. You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again.

Winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call, and I'll be there.

You've got a friend."

~Carole King

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 This is actually Part 2 of a post from 2009, where I wrote "Even before the economy took its latest nose dive, thousands were laid off from their jobs, and the sun went on overtime, there were many among us who were already struggling." 

The need itself never ends, does it? Next year I'm sure I'll be writing a Part 3.

(click HERE to see the whole post.)

 

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Oktoberfest itself is a lot of small town fun (you know, a carnival for the children, a country store, silent auction, turkey legs, music, a German dinner, bingo) so if you're in the area, come on over!

Here are the details: 

Saturday October 8 from 8am to 7pm at St. Mary Our Lady of the Lake Catholic Church (6100 Lohman Ford Rd. Lago Vista, Texas, 78645.)

**** Admission is free, but full disclosure: our motive is to Raise Money! ***** 

Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

~ 1 John 4:11

 

 

Each Day

Lord, take me where you want me to go;
Let me meet who you want me to meet;
Tell me what you want me to say; and
Keep me out of your way.

- Fr. Mychal Judge, FDNY (died 9/11/01)

 

This morning, while thousands of names were solemnly read, one by one, at Ground Zero, two babies were baptized in our church.

This evening I'll help celebrate a dear friend's birthday with Mexican food and margaritas.

In between, I've been remembering...

Ten years ago I was one of millions watching in disbelief as our country came under attack. Do you remember that feeling as we pulled together in the days that followed? We changed the way we did things, for sure, but we kept on living our lives, refusing to let our attackers control us with fear. 

Living each day, deliberately and free. Remembering but moving forward, only leaving room for light and happiness and love. That's our victory.

 

"...Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve.

America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining.

Today, our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature, and we responded with the best of America, with the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could..."

~President George W. Bush

 

 

Rambling on a Monday in May

Before I was fully awake this morning, I started the coffee brewing and switched on the television.

Up popped the devastation in Joplin, Missouri - that hospital with blown windows surrounded by mangled vehicles, toothpick trees and piles of rubbish ... the videos, the woman's voice praying "Help us, Jesus..."

After saying a prayer for all of those affected, I vowed never to complain about the weather here again.  

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 May is almost over and I'm feeling paranoid. 

The past two Mays have given me belated birthday presents that I wouldn't re-gift to my worst enemy.

For my 50th birthday, May gave me a case of shingles which came with an MRI because of the headaches that heralded its arrival and steroid drops for my eyes so I wouldn't go blind.

Last year I guess May felt it had to top the previous one. First, it gave me the worst urinary tract infection of my life. (It was actually only my second ever, but the first one, thirty years ago, was so bad I took every precaution to avoid another.)

I thought that was it (thank you so much!), but then just a week or so later my heart went crazy, pounding and racing so hard and fast that it woke me up. I thought it was going to fly out of my chest! Follow up tests concluded it was  SVT, or Supraventricular Tachycardia, basically an electrical short circuit in my heart that causes it to pound and race. 

I haven't had another episode, or any other health scares, but then, May isn't over yet, is it? I'm just hoping this "Welcome to your 50's" initiation phase is over.

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My book review for A Jane Austen Education went live on BlogHer this evening (along with several others, if you want more than one opinion!)

I've been thinking about the book again today, mostly thinking it's a shame Jane Austen isn't required reading for everyone. Some people learn the lessons about life on their own that William Deresiewicz, the author, learned from the books, but I know quite a few people who have never learned them, such as the one he learned from Pride and Prejudice: we aren't born perfect and there are some lessons we have to learn on our own in order to grow. We can't learn them from other people. We have to experience our own failure.

I know this was certainly true for me when I was young (and maybe it's still true!). I wish it hadn't been - I wish I'd had the sense to take the advice of those older and more experienced than I was. I hope I have a teeny bit of that sense myself now.

Which reminds me... I saw a blurb on the news today that some state is considering holding parents responsible when their child gets a bad grade. Huh? Maybe I heard it wrong, but if it's true, don't they realize they're just giving parents more reason to do their kids' work for them or encourage them to cheat or that we'd be keeping kids from learning life lessons they need later on? Don't they realize no one is born perfect and everyone has a different path to follow? A different time line?

Where are these people coming from?  Why do some people think their way is the only way? 

Oops. Sorry.

Anyway, click HERE to read my review on BlogHer... and go read some Jane Austen!

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 As far as Mondays go, this hasn't been a great one. Okay, it truly sucked in places (and I don't use that 's' word lightly.)

But I'm still keeping my eyes open for those Sweet! moments and keeping my feet moving forward, even though I don't know what's ahead of me.

These quotes help, so I'm going to add them here in case one of you needs a little 'faith reminder'. (I need them a lot - that's why I collect these quotes!)

"Suppose you plant a garden, and after a few days, you don't see results. Do you dig it up again? No, because you know that a lot of things are going on that you can't see. It's the same with God."

~ Charles Stanley, American Baptist preacher

"Patience with others is love, patience with self is hope, patience with God is faith." 

~ADEL BESTAVROS Egyptian deacon and lawyer

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."

~Proverbs 3:5-6

 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

~Jeremiah 29:11

"God often closes a door before opening a new one. Between those doors, don't worry. Wait, worship and watch! It's a test of faith. Colossians 4:3"

- Rick Warren

"Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods."

~C.S. Lewis

 "Hope is wishing for something to come true. Faith is belief that it will come true. Believe that for every problem God gives you, He will also provide you with a solution."

Anyone know who said that? I love it!

But this is my favorite, and the one that truly keeps me going...

Everything works out in the end. If it hasn't worked out yet, it's not the end.

~Author Unknown

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And for me, this is proof of that nugget of truth... the path might be tough, but if you keep going, you just might get fireworks in your honor! (The last of my graduation photos, I promise. Here, anyway. I'll post the rest on "Confessions".) 

 

Gray Days and Peace

A gray day spent dealing with frustrations over computer glitches, rude people, and staff who are so quick to deny responsibility for a problem that they fail to listen or offer productive advice (their job - what my money is paying them to do.)

A day I dreaded, because I anticipated all of these problems and I have a bad temper, sometimes volcanic, one that can crumble into tears and that's especially triggered by rude people who don't do their jobs, by bullies, and by people who abuse their position or power.  

I didn't want to lose my temper today, although I think anger has its place, if it's justified and channeled into peaceful, productive action or awareness.

Which mine often isn't.

Peace. I want to be at peace...think peaceful, loving thoughts. I want to focus on my blessings.

Rude, uncaring people ruffle my peace and too often blind me to my blessings.

But that's my challenge. Something I have to learn to deal with and not allow, for the sake of my own spirit. I've gone the tit for tat route before; it doesn't make me happy, that's for sure, and never fixes a problem. Usually, it makes it worse.

“Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him.” ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

I spotted this on Facebook (thanks, Ellen!)... posted, I'm sure, in light of the tragic shootings in Tucson.

I've witnessed a lot of finger-pointing over the shootings.  It's true, many politicians and political commentators - red, blue and all colors in between - use incendiary rhetoric, toss off half-true accusations and insults and call each other names ... then off-camera they pat each other on the back, smile, shake hands. To them, it's just part of the job. A game, perhaps. A carry-over from their high school debate team days. They don't understand how their words are often seeds planting hatred and mistrust in frustrated people. 

I hope the shooting leads to an awareness of the problem, to verbal responsibility and a call for kindness among our lawmakers and media.

But remember "When you point a finger in blame at someone else, you have three more pointing back at yourself!"

If any of us nonpolitical types spouts off at someone else, calls someone an insulting name, forgets to put ourselves in their shoes or try to see an issue from any angle but our own, if we repeat the inflammatory stories (especially without checking the facts first) then I think we're also guilty of contributing to the dark energy that feeds people like Jared Loughner.

I promised myself that today I would remain calm. I prayed to be filled with love and understanding, with eyes open to my blessings, even as I was faced with a cold, gray day and potentially temper-triggering frustrations.

It was the least I could do for the victims of the shootings.

And it worked...for the most part.

I'm going to try it again tomorrow. What about you?

Remember this? Click on the image for a reminder.

 

 

Pink Skies, Random Thoughts

Pink clouds, pink skies have greeted my ascension to the dirt road the past two mornings ... a nice change from the woolen grays and mist that have been waiting up there for me lately.

I've noticed that a pink sky or one filled with clouds that look dipped in pink-orange paint lighten my heart and make me feel like anything at all is possible that day, and even if the day doesn't turn out quite as great as I thought it would, the memory of that sunrise gets me through it.

*********************************************

 

"The King's Speech" is an awesome movie! If I had ten thumbs, they'd all be UP! You'd think a movie about a speech therapist and his patient would be boring, but this one kept me hooked the whole time.

There are no glitches in the screenplay whatsoever - it flows so smoothly you forget it's a movie! The acting , photography, dialogue, everything ... flawless!  

Add a pre-movie dinner with dear friends, a bag of fresh movie popcorn and a few pieces of chocolate, and you've got yourself one fantastic Wednesday night!

Well, I had myself one fantastic Wednesday night, anyway...

 

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Hubby's having surgery for a deviated septum tomorrow morning - the result of his accident back in '98 wherein his face was split open and this amazing plastic surgeon welded his nose back together.

We're hoping the surgery helps with Tom's headaches. Please say a prayer for him.

 

***************************************************

 

Life is unfair. I already knew this, of course, but I had a fresh course in the lesson today. Briefly... a couple of years ago a dump truck slammed into my sister's car. I mean slammed, as in he wasn't paying attention and didn't see that she'd had to stop and he didn't apply any brakes at all.

Miraculously and thankfully, she wasn't hurt. But instead of checking to see if she was okay or apologizing, he immediately started trying to squirm out of the blame - his business was at risk, after all.

Well, thank goodness witnesses were around and he had to pay for the damages, etc.

His trial finally came around today, but the prosecutor (a volunteer! have you ever heard of that?) didn't present the accident report or bring up the fact that the driver's insurance had paid for my sister's car. He didn't have any evidence ready at all - he just used my sister's photographs!

To the jury it was a "he said - she said" case, so I can't really blame them for finding the guy not guilty, I guess. But shame on the driver and shame on the prosecutor. And let this be a warning to all of you in Houston that thanks to the prosecutor and the jury, this guy is still out on the road. It makes me wonder how many other cases go through the court system like this, where a volunteer prosecutor doesn't feel a case is worth the time it takes to do it right.

 

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Remember Mam-ma's piano?

It turns out my mother isn't that eager to get rid of it - she just wants it out of her livingroom, but didn't want to impose on anyone by asking us to move it back into Mam-ma's room. (deep sigh.)

So next time we're there, we're moving it. And I've asked my mom to make a list of everything else she would like done - I think I've convinced her we'd love to do whatever we can and help out however we can and it would make us happy and we won't feel imposed upon at all.

But I might have to come out with a "you never let me...!" to get my way. (It always worked when I was growing up!)

 

*****************************************************

 

Okay, what the heck is up with mascara these days? Is it just me? I have tried every brand, every type (within my budget, that is) and no matter how much they proclaim not to clump or flake, I can't find one single tube of mascara that doesn't do one or the other or both. This latest one I bought makes me look like Liza Minnelli, for goodness sake, it's so thick and clumpy, despite promises on the package to do neither. Any suggestions out there? 

 

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Today is my sweet friend Darla's birthday - Darla, my Secret Santa from last year, deserving star of "Late Love is from Heaven" and gracious hostess of my best birthday party ever, and I missed celebrating with her tonight because of another obligation I had to fulfill - attending a city council meeting, of all things.

Yes, instead of toasting my friend with a yummy margarita, I was sitting in a small room listening to small town politicians twist facts, but at least ultimately (thanks to an important clear-headed few and the democratic process) the vote went our way, which made me feel a teensy bit better about missing the celebration.  

And the margarita.

But just a teensy bit.

Happy birthday, Darla! I'll celebrate with you soon! (When you're over 50, it's okay to keep celebrating all year long...)

 

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And now here are a couple of videos I feel the need to share. The first is "Phoenix Burn" by Alpha Rev, a group from Austin. It's just the lyrics set to music - I couldn't find a real video. Sorry! But the song has been haunting me for a few weeks - thank goodness it always lifts me up! But I love these lines: 

I wanna push through the undiscovered
Find my answers, leave them uncovered
I wanna speak out what I believe in
That love will heal us, give us our freedom
I wanna see what's on the horizon
Change directions, stop the fightin
I need to find a way of letting it go
When everything falls apart...

 

 

And this is one Tom just showed to me - it's a single dad and his daughter. Guaranteed to put a smile on your face! 

Today is Veteran's Day... how do you say "Thank you"?

Please forgive me...this is pretty much a re-post from last year, except for a small, much-needed addition...

 

 

My big brother Buster was headed to Viet Nam, saying his goodbyes, when I stood beside him in this photograph and smiled. I had no idea what was ahead of him. This was probably taken before his first tour of duty and so he had only a vague idea himself what to expect. When he volunteered for his second tour, however, he knew full well what he was stepping into...but he did it anyway. 

 

My dad was in high school when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He joined the Navy soon after high school graduation because his country was at war and "it was the thing to do." In the next twenty-two months he traveled a long way from Texas aboard the U.S.S. Geneva...to places like the Philippines, the Marshall Islands, China, Burma, Japan. Before he turned twenty, he had seen cities that had been destroyed by war and piles of dead bodies waiting to be buried. A few years later, his little brother Bobby followed his lead and joined the Navy, and many years later, so did my brother Donnie and two nephews.

Pop, my wonderful father-in-law, missed out on World War II, but joined the Air Force in time for the Korean War. He worked base supply in Okinawa, supporting bombers flying missions to Korea...about 100 aircraft every day. He re-enlisted, got married, and hopped around the globe...living in England, Germany, and over a year in Pakistan, separated from his family (the other heroes - Mom had 8 teenage and younger boys to deal with by herself!)...visiting a dozen other countries...eventually staying put for awhile in Maryland, working with NSA (and a second job at the bowling alley to make ends meet), until his retirement. A lifetime of service and sacrifice for this country.

 

My husband Tom was raised in a military family. For him it was normal to move every few years to someplace completely different...by the time he was eight or nine years old, he had lived in three countries! He grew up on a tight budget - hand-me-downs, powdered milk and only two cookies a day...period! And yet as soon as he could he joined the service...the Coast Guard. Among other things, he helped rescue fisherman off the coast of Alaska. Four of his brothers also joined the service (three career Air Force, just like their dad, and another Coast Guard) and the youngest joined the Army Reserves. Now the next generation is following in their footsteps: two Air Force and one Coast Guard...and even marrying other service members!

I think it's very fitting that Veterans Day shares November with Thanksgiving, a day when we slow down to remember and be grateful for things that we usually take for granted, because veterans, despite the sacrifices they make for all of us, probably don't even make it onto our Thanksgiving thank-you list. That's how much most of us take them for granted - as well as the freedoms they protect for us. Even when our country isn't at war, they go where they are needed to unfamiliar places, away from extended family, often living on a minimum salary. To many, they are a symbol of war, not peace, and sadly become targets of derision, scorn, blame... and even violence, like the sad incident at Ft. Hood a year ago.

They deserve to be thanked every day of the year. A friend of mine says that when he's in a restaurant and sees a man or woman in uniform, he secretly pays their bill. What a wonderful idea! I think more of us should go out of our way every day to show our appreciation, but I'm glad there is at least one special day where we shine a spotlight on them, remember their sacrifices and make clear our gratitude.

Thank you Daddy, Tom, Pop, Buster, Donnie, Uncle Bobby, Kenny, Steve, Joe, Robbie, John, Sheila, Michael, Tom, Lynn, Robbin, Evan...and all of the other Veterans out there! Because of you, we're free to go about our daily lives, without a thought in the world to how much that freedom costs.

But let's hope we do remember the price, as well as who's paying it for us.

 

 

Keep Long Hollow Beautiful, Dangit!

At the top of our road, there's a sign that says No Littering and No Dumping. Yet, every day on my walk, I find something that doesn't belong, most often beer cans or bottles... sometimes soda cans, empty cigarette packages, snack food wrappings, styrofoam or paper cups.

Where is it coming from? Okay, I know... it's coming from People. But who? Who is tossing this stuff out their car window or leaving it lying around where the wind or animals can snatch it up (we don't get much traffic down here!) and what do they think happens to it?

After the recent floods, we could see someone had been dumping empty bottles and cans...and more. Looks like maybe a bottle of bubble bath...

The pond is clear again now, thank goodness... all the suds washed downstream to Lake Travis...

(Oh, wait! We drink that water, don't we?) 

...well, actually it's still not clear, and we don't know why. Usually this time of year we can see 20 feet down - but even though the surrounding ponds are clear, ours isn't. You can barely see these big rocks - what's keeping it so foggy?

We're hoping the tadpoles, minnows, dragon- and damselflies we see enjoying the pond are signs that it's still healthy...

The Boy Scouts have a saying that I've always liked... "Leave it better than you found it."

I can't do much about the pond, but a few weeks ago I took a trash bag with me on my walk and picked up all the trash I found; sad to say, I almost filled the bag, and it's only a half mile section.

Already, I'm noticing cans reappearing on the sides of the road.

There's so much we do that we think doesn't affect anyone else. But even just one of something can make a difference... one can, one wrapper... one person. 

I challenge all of you to pay more attention to your trash - make sure it goes where it's supposed to go... and that means NOT on the ground (especially not on my road!) Truck drivers, clean out the beds of your trucks! People with yards, think about what you're putting on your lawn that soaks in deep or washes away.

Whew! Okay, I'm off my soapbox now. Thanks for listening!

I'm grateful for people who recycle, re-use, throw their trash in proper receptacles, and try to 'leave it better than they found it'.

Thanksgiving Comes First (p.s. peace)

On my way out of the local drugstore yesterday afternoon, unable to resist a big CLEARANCE sign, I paused beside the aisle of Halloween merchandise, before remembering (duh!) I don't decorate anymore. 

That's when I spotted something green and red in the corner of my eye. No...it couldn't be. Not yet! I allowed myself one glance, and yes, sure enough, it was a shelf full of Christmas, impatiently waiting for Halloween to get the heck out of the way. 

But where was Thanksgiving?

Perhaps it was there, somewhere...probably in the form of two or three ceramic turkeys allotted a few inches of shelf space.

In a dark corner.

But I didn't stay to search for it. I could feel a scowl coming on, and I hate to react that way to Christmas.

People! It's just November, for crying out loud! 

Besides seeing it on my calendar, I know it's just November because the world is still in color. On my walk this morning, I watched the hollow come alive in pinks and golds under a crisp blue sky. The leaves are still gripping the trees, many just now changing from green to autumn gold, orange, yellow, purple...

Even the weather can't make up its mind - yesterday was gray, warm, humid. Today is sunshine and cool again...just cool enough for sweat pants and a light jacket...not my insulated jacket, hat and gloves I'll be pulling on in a few weeks for these early walks.

Can we please finish out this season? Give it its due respect? I want to relish autumn - my favorite season - a little while longer.  I have birthdays to celebrate, including my mother's, and then, of course, there's Thanksgiving.

Don't you think it's time to protest this brushing over of Thanksgiving? For one thing, if Christmas carries on too long, I worry about it losing its significance, becoming just one long shopping season.

I'm a Christian, so obviously the cheapening and over-commercialization of Christmas concerns me, but I would think even non-Christians would get tired of having it thrown in their faces for months. 

I love Christmas, but I'm not ready for green and red. (We don't need green and red when we still have oranges, yellows and purples.) But I do love the hokey-ness of Christmas, the nostalgic feel to it. I love Christmas music, Christmas movies, baking cookies, decorating the tree, wrapping gifts, hanging stockings, sending out cards (and receiving them!). It's for these very reasons that I don't want it to start until after Thanksgiving. Let's keep it special. Simple.

Besides, I don't like having to dust my snowmen collection or the Nativity scene. If you have to dust it, it's been out too long.

The truth is, retailers just don't make any money from Thanksgiving, but the potential from Christmas is outrageous. No wonder they want to get it started earlier and earlier.

It's up to us to put on the brakes. Anyone with me?

If you're a blogger, consider spreading the protest on your site. If you're a consumer...write letters or simply refuse to give in to the marketing monster until after Thanksgiving.

This post was triggered by a protest from blogger Suldog. Click HERE to read his where he makes several good points. One that really struck me was something he saw on an episode of Mr. Rogers. This is what Suldog wrote:

On one of his shows, he was explaining the concepts of noisy and quiet. In order to illustrate the difference, he took his television audience to see a musician friend of his.

Fred had the musician, a percussionist, play his many instruments. Some were very loud, while others were soft and gentle. Afterward, Mister Rogers looked into the camera and spoke. He said, "In music, the silences are just as important as the loud parts."

The silences are just as important as the loud parts.

That’s a very profound statement. It’s true, isn’t it? Without the silences, it’s all just noise. The silences – the pauses, the gaps, the unfilled spaces – are what give the notes their power and meaning. And when it comes to a holiday, the silences – the quiet times preceding (or even within) the holiday – are extremely important. They give the celebration its power and meaning. That’s why I care so deeply about this. We all need some silences. They’re just as important as the loud parts.

Thanksgiving is a silence we need. A time to ponder and reflect and be still for just a bit. To remember the good things in our lives instead of focusing on the negative.

In honor of Thanksgiving, at the end of each post this month, I'm going to share a few things I'm grateful for. I thought of these this morning on my walk...

Today I'm grateful Tom wasn't involved in the accident along his route to work that I heard about on the news ...I'm grateful my friend Randy was reunited with his lost dog Chuck...I'm grateful I live in a country where I am free, where I can vote...

...which is what I did this evening. I sure hope you voted, too!

P.S. Thursday, November 4, is a special day. Bloggers around the world will join together for a Blog Blast for Peace.

This will be my first year to participate (thanks to Jillsy for the heads up!) and I'm already feeling the energy. Please join me by blogging (click HERE to find out more about Blog Blast for Peace) or by just taking a few minutes that day to wish for peace, or...whatever you can think of that might promote peace. (On Thursday, leave me a comment and let me know what you did.) 

Should 6-year-olds chant about shaking their booties?

"Our backs ache, our skirts are too tight, we shake our booties from left to right!"

A mom in Detroit was shocked to hear this coming out of her 6-year-old daughter's mouth - it was a cheer she'd been taught to chant on her cheerleading squad.

OMG! 

The mom did just what I would have done if TG had been expected to chant this when she was a middle school cheerleader: she went to the coach... the general manager... other parents.

Other parents were upset, but I guess none of them had the guts to speak up like this mom did. Because of her complaints, the daughter was kicked off the squad.

Is it just me and this mom that think something is very, very wrong with a 6-year-old chanting something so suggestive? Call me a prude, but I don't even think this is appropriate for high school cheerleaders. What the heck does it have to do with football, anyway? What happened to cheers like "Push 'em back, push 'em back, wayyyyy back!"?

What happened to childhood? What happened to innocence?

To check out the story I saw about it on The Today Show this week, click here or watch the video below. Let me know what you think about this.

 

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

The Damage is Done

I could hear the pump running as I walked down my driveway this morning toward the ponds; my heart dropped and my blood heated up at the same time, dreading what I would find when I rounded the curve.

I was relieved to see that yesterday's flow into our pond had stopped, despite the pumping sound I heard. I'm not sure where the water was going, but it didn't appear to be going into our pond any longer, thank goodness.

The green loogie-blob was gone, but the oil and diesel were still there. Stepping close to the edge, I could see the sheen on the surface of the water. I guess it's not as bad as it would have been if they'd kept pumping... if we hadn't spoken up... but it's bad enough.

I'm grateful Belle is such an obedient dog - she wanted to jump in, but with just a word from me, she returned to my side.

I wish I could protect the minnows, frogs, turtles and birds as easily.

Oil and diesel won't hurt a pond, will they?

They asked. We said no. They did it anyway, accompanied by giggly snide remarks in Spanish.

Rudeness transcends the language barrier, did you know that? I'm sure kindness does too, but unfortunately, that's not in this story. But not by my choice.

We weren't surprised they did it anyway. That's been their method all along, to just do what they wanted to do, damn the permits, damn the inspectors, damn the effect on anyone else. And would you believe they blame us for the money in fines they've had to pay, because we reported them? Uh, how about doing your homework and making the right phone calls yourself... get the right permits to begin with... then whaddaya know? No fines!

It wasn't enough that we had to put up with the road near our house being piled with dirt and rocks (even if unintentional, it was still thoughtless!) and to watch this wall of dirt climb higher and higher - they even drove cedar posts in the ground and ran an erosion control fence between them at one time to try to hold more dirt. (The day after a confrontation with us, the posts and fencing suddenly vanished and permits were posted in the proper method. I'm sure they thought we were calling inspectors again. I'm guessing the posts and fencing weren't condoned by an inspector or engineer after all, as they told us.)

What's that saying about character? Oh, yeah. "Integrity is doing the right thing even when no one is watching." Ahem.

Anyway, one day last week, one of the workers, in the sticky-sweetest not-even-remotely-snide voice you can imagine, asked me if they could pump water from their pond into ours (Ours was still on the dry side, but theirs had a lot of water for some reason, perhaps filled up from sprinklers they used to water the grass seeds.)

I said, "I'll ask my husband, but probably not because I think he has some projects planned for our pond while it's low like this".

The worker went on to explain that an inspector had told them they had to slope the inside pond wall more, but they couldn't with the water in it. (Another instance where a little homework and the proper planning and pre-inspections would have helped... although, actually, you'd think they could have figured it out themselves that a vertical wall wouldn't be as strong as a sloping wall when the force of all that water pressed upon it.)

Anyway, two days ago they asked Tom himself about pumping the water and he said, "No, that water is dirty and I don't want it in my pond." As he walked away, they smarted off to him in Spanish, laughing. I guess they knew they were going to ignore his wishes and do it anyway. Yes, rude is rude in any language. It needs no translator.

Tom's point is that the dirty water gets filtered by the caliche ground and earthen dam before it reaches our pond. We didn't want water that had bypassed that natural purifier.

But then they got the bulldozer stuck in the water and tried to get it out with a couple of Bobcats. We have a backhoe, and we know how heavy machinery leaks oil and diesel. Yuck! Talk about dirty water. We for sure didn't want that water in our pond after that! (Taken with a zoom lens - boy, it comes in handy!)

 

Despite telling them no, Tom wasn't surprised when he heard the pump running this afternoon. By the time he got down there, they realized he was home and had shut it off, but the water was still running through the culvert down into our pond where a green glob was forming. Did they think we wouldn't notice?

It looks a lot like a big loogie, doesn't it?

They have a hose from the pump going into a culvert on their side (thank goodness again for that zoom lens!) The water comes out of the culvert on our side, flows along the erosion control fence (I wondered why they had straightened it up again) and then out into our pond.

So now I've had to spend my evening making phone calls, sending emails and photos to different agencies, filing environmental violation reports, hoping someone in Texas cares about these little pockets of nature that spill into Lake Travis (our drinking water!) before it's too late and they have to spend fortunes trying to clean up what they could have prevented in the first place with a little more diligence. Don't they realize it's these little spots that are the heart of the environmental issue? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, right?

I guess it would be easy to assume that someone who bought acreage out in the country like this cared about natural resources, about the waterways and the animals (including my dogs) who drink from them, as well as the frogs, the birds, the fish, the lake. Obviously not. Perhaps they just don't see the connection. When they toss a stone into the water, they don't see the ripples rolling away from it, on and on and on.

I'd feel sorry for them, except it's already late and now I need to start on what I needed to do tonight in the first place. And my pond is filled with a big green loogie of diesel and oil. My pond is probably dying.

But before I got to work, I needed to get this out with another request - if you have any information or know of any resources please let me know. If you have any connections, please forward this. I do know the agencies overseeing these things in Travis County, and perhaps all over Texas, are all understaffed and underpaid - please speak up to our representatives to get this changed.

And please say a prayer for our pond.

 

 

 

 

Love Thy Neighbor

Yesterday morning as Max enjoyed his breakfast, I sipped my coffee and watched the clouds drift across an electric blue sky... a sky so blue I imagined God uploading it to Picasa and hitting the 'saturate' button to achieve it.

Two Great Blue Herons flew down the Hollow in front of me, following the creek towards the lake. For a second I considered rushing into the house and grabbing my camera, but chose instead to just sit there and enjoy it. Even Max stopped eating long enough to watch them, too impressed (or intimidated) to bark. 

I think we both felt we'd been blessed.

As the heron couple disappeared into the distance, I hoped they weren't leaving the Hollow for good. The ponds levels have dropped; some are completely dry. On top of that (and because of that) work has resumed on the neighboring property with a vengeance... the hum of engines now fills the Hollow, even filtering past the thick walls into our house, from sunrise until well after dark.

Large rocks cover the eroded section of the dam now. Weeds along the side are mowed short and fresh dirt is piled on top and tamped down with a rolling compactor. But it's still massive and unsightly from our view, essentially deforming our pond, making it resemble a Walmart retaining pool.

The last few months of no activity made it easy to believe it had all stopped for good. Maybe they'd changed their minds? We knew it was a long shot, but it didn't hurt to dream. However, it still wasn't a fairy tale ending, because the damage to our pond had already been done.

But now seeing the heavy equipment... hearing the engines all day... watching the smoke from a smoldering, unattended bonfire drift into the morning sky... it's like having a scab ripped off of a wound. 

I should make it clear that what frustrates us has less to do with having to look at the green wall (although that's bad enough) than it does with the total lack of respect and honesty that we've been given... as well as the lack of regard for our property and for the beauty of the Hollow. It's so... well, disheartening seems too weak of a word, but it's all that I can think of right now to describe it.

It hurts me to see Tom hurt, frustrated... disheartened... this man who would drop whatever he was doing to help a neighbor in need... and who has put so much of himself into this dream of his. 

"Do you know what happens when you assume something?"

...I can see Joe Rodriguez writing "Assume" on a chalkboard in front of our group of DuPont technicians-in-training like it was yesterday, rather than thirty years ago.

Without waiting for us to answer, he draws two slashes, dividing up the word.

"You make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'."

He was warning us about "assuming" versus "checking the facts" pertaining to running the plant, but his words sunk in and have echoed as a warning bell for me ever since.

But Tom and I didn't heed Joe's warning when it came to our land. We knew the property line ran through the pond; we just assumed anyone who bought that property would keep it the way it was. Never, ever would it have occurred to us that someone would build a huge berm along that property line.

So we made asses of ourselves. (I refuse to take the blame for our neighbor.)

Not that we could have done anything about it, anyway - we couldn't afford to buy the property when it came up for sale. Nevertheless, if we had opened up our minds to the possibility of someone drastically manipulating their section of the Hollow, it wouldn't have been such a blow when it happened.

You shall love your neighbor as yourself.

These words were part of the second reading in Mass yesterday, and they hit me hard. They're still being shouted out in my brain. Echoing. Pounding.

For you were called for freedom, brother and sisters. 

But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; 

rather, serve one another through love. 

For the whole law is fulfilled in one statement, namely, 

You shall love your neighbor as yourself. 

But if you go on biting and devouring one another,

beware that you are not consumed by one another.

Whoa! That hit way too close to home. Just a coincidence, I'm sure...

But then (would you believe it?) on NBC's Dateline last night, there was the tragic story of neighbors in California arguing over property lines, property values and differences of opinion on property 'beauty' and usage. After years of bickering, hard feelings and legal battles, all it took was a boulder placed on the property line, literally, to trigger the last fatal confrontation; one neighbor shot and killed the other two. 

So senseless. So tragic. So ridiculous! Killing someone over a piece of land?

And such a mirror to our frustrations over the dam... a warning to us of how pebbles can grow into boulders if we let them, boulders that settle in your heart, weigh down your spirit, block reason and light and true vision. 

It makes me wonder what the future holds for us. In essence, we've had a boulder placed on our property line. I don't want to leave; I also don't want us to live with resentment or anger toward our neighbor, but having been lied to and treated without respect, it's going to be a challenge to break the figurative boulder apart, knowing the real one - the dam - isn't going anywhere. 

Except I just finished reading a book, From Gravel to Glory by Gina Calvert, that demonstrates how God works in our lives using stones and boulders such as this one in ours. 

Not that I believe it was part of God's plan for our neighbor to do what he did, but what I do know is we can't let it weigh our spirits down, but rather use it to build them up somehow. Somehow, we've got to find a way to love our neighbor. Or at least find a way to let go of the hurt and frustration.

Definitely a challenge. But I'm up for it, especially after seeing how a neighbor's dispute can turn so senselessly tragic.

Besides, with God, all things are possible. I do believe that.

And by the way, I caught a glimpse of the herons this morning. 

 

No Trespassing... a tale of irony (and a Dam* Dam Update)

A few weeks ago these chains and signs went up on the property next door... (yes, the damn dam property.)

 

Now, I don't blame them for putting up the signs. Several years ago we had people zipping through the middle of our land on their four-wheelers, despite our "No Trespassing" signs. We finally had to pile lumber and cedar posts across the trail to get our message across... ("Stop driving on our land! We don't know you!")

It seems some people think they can just drive wherever they want to drive, especially if they're on a four-wheeler. And especially if there's not a house visible (although that doesn't always stop them, obviously, since our house was clearly visible.) They don't bother to consider that the property might belong to someone... perhaps someone who doesn't want tire tracks all over their property.

...and then there were these people who decided to make changes to their property, without regard to property lines...

Believe me, we understand. 

See the line of rocks on the left side of this photo?

Those mark our property line. I had to line them up like that to keep our neighbor's workers from driving on our property. They had already bulldozed that large pile of brush you see to the side - we'd placed it there to keep people from driving down that trail. We were trying to get things to grow there again. His excuse? "I didn't know where the property line was." Hmmm... did you think to check before you started bulldozing?

Well, he seems to know now. We had seen trucks driving on that property, but we just assumed it was the owners. Now we're guessing it wasn't. And now that people are driving on his property without permission, he suddenly cares about respecting property lines.

Ah, life is full of irony, isn't it? What's that old saying? What goes around, comes around...?

On the other hand, there's not much to report on the damn dam. When the ponds were full, it wasn't quite as bad. Still bad. Just not as bad...

But now the ponds have almost completely dried up; thank goodness we had that explosion of green between the house and the dam or we'd be staring at this from our deck...

Otherwise, nothing has changed, beyond the "No Trespassing" signs. That's probably a good thing. With change, I can only imagine things getting worse, as far as our little pond and our property goes.

But we'll make the best of it and I'll keep you posted. Despite it all, we're still grateful for our little bit of paradise. 

 

The red and white and starry blue...

 

...is freedom's shield and hope." - John Philip Sousa

Today is Flag Day. I almost forgot about it...

How easy it is to get so busy with our lives that we take for granted those things which make it possible to move about so freely that we get too busy to remember... so freely that we even take our freedom for granted.

Let us not take it for granted. Let us give this flag the respect it deserves, as the symbol of our country, and of the blood and sweat, the sacrifices, dreams and ideals that built it.

Off with your hat as the flag goes by!
 And let the heart have its say';
 you're man enough for a tear in your eye
 that you will not wipe away.

~Henry Cuyler Bunner 

I swing before your eyes as a bright gleam of color, a symbol of yourself, the pictured suggestion of that big thing which makes this nation. My stars and my stripes are your dream and your labors. They are bright with cheer, brilliant with courage, firm with faith, because you have made them so out of your heart. For you are the makers of the flag and it is well that you glory in the making. ~ Franklin Knight Lane

Happy Flag Day! Wave it proudly!

To the Person/Persons who tossed their empty beer cans out onto our road ...

What were you thinking? 

This is our neighborhood! There are no public trashcans lining this road, only wildflowers. Keep your cans in your car! (No, your car is NOT too good for your own trash.) 

Listen, I am not your mother. Heck, even if I was, I wouldn't be cleaning up your trash. If you're not old enough to clean up your own garbage, you're sure not old enough to drive or drink beer.

Hey, while we're at it, what were you doing drinking while driving, anyway? It's a dirt road but that doesn't make it okay. We live here!

 

Can you believe it? Here I was, walking down my dirt road this morning, amazed at the beauty around me - the explosions of yellow and purple and green, the promise of a clear sky - and then, there it was, lying right on the edge of the road: a Miller Lite can. It was empty, but shiny. Brand new. It must have appeared after last night's rain because it still reeked of beer.

Shaking my head and grumbling, I picked it up and dumped the dregs out onto the ground. Belle ran to investigate ("No, Belle!") then jumped up, trying to snatch the can from my hand, thinking it was a toy. ("No, Belle!")

She listened. My menagerie and I walked on to the curve, turned around and headed back, and there, a few feet off of the road, hidden by the grass from the other direction, was another can!

It's not the first time we've found cans along our road, sad to say. We're not sure where they come from - joy riders, or perhaps guests leaving a wedding at the villa down the road? 

It doesn't matter. I just can't believe there are people out there still tossing their trash out their car window, as if little brownies or elves scurry around cleaning it all up. Grow up, people! Get responsible for your own trash, your own messes, your own lives. Quit dumping your garbage on our road!

Whew. Thank you.

One of my New Heroes

I heard about this last week...a mom near Dallas, Texas came home from dropping her son off at daycare to find two men robbing her house! She used her SUV to block them until the police arrived.

I've been burglarized twice in my life - both times in the middle of the day - and both times the thieves took things that were more sentimental to me than monetarily valuable. The first time they took some coins my grandfather had left me and a smoky topaz ring that had belonged to my mother. She'd had it since she was thirteen and I felt guilty that I had let it slip away.

The second time they stole a 35mm camera and a video recorder - but the real loss was what they contained...photos and videos of our oldest son Tommy as a toddler. Irreplaceable.

More than anything, they took my sense of security and privacy. I felt violated knowing someone had been in my place, going through my things. Yes, I realize things are just things. But that doesn't mean it's not okay to be upset when someone invades your safe space and takes what belongs to you.

I wish I had been able to confront the lowlife scumbags who had no regard for my belongings like this mom did. She's a hero to me - there's no telling how many others these creeps would have stolen from if she hadn't stopped them cold. On behalf of them and all of us who have felt that cold chill of knowing someone else was in your house, uninvited, going through your things, taking your things...THANK YOU! 

To read the article, click here.

My Lenten Project: Foiling the Busy-Bodies...oops, I mean, Repaying a Friend

It's been almost ten years, but I can still remember that suffocating weight of construction loan deadlines, knowing if we didn't finish what we needed to by a certain date, everything we had accomplished up to that point would vanish...poof!...like sawdust on a windy day - along with all of our money, dreams...everything. The deadlines press down on you, squeezing the breath out of you, gripping your insides and twisting. There's nothing you can do but work, work, work and pray, pray, pray.

Our prayers were answered in the form of a friend of ours, Tom D. Without him, we couldn't have met those deadlines. For at least two solid years, he spent hours each day working on our home. My husband Tom would take over in the evenings and on the weekends. I worked whenever I could...days, evenings, weekends...around the kids' schedules and my part-time jobs. It didn't amount to much in comparison and besides, I was just a grunt, taking orders and cleaning up the job site. Tom D., like my own Tom, is a builder, carpenter, artist, jack-of-all-trades.

We paid Tom D. for his time, but not nearly as much as he deserved. My Tom had helped him with the building of his home for a few weekends before we started ours and gave him carte blanche with our backhoe afterwards to finish up the landscaping around his home, but the scales are still off-balance. Rarely a day goes by that I don't give thanks for his sacrifice and dedication to our dream.

So that's why Tom and I are making Tom D. our Lenten project. We found out this week that the city he lives in has given him until the end of March to finish up some work he's doing in his yard (his final project is putting in a swimming pool himself) or he has to tear it all down and probably pay some fines. I'm still unclear on that part. Apparently a handful of golfers have complained about the unfinished work (Tom D.'s house backs up to the golf course)...but wouldn't tearing something down make even more of a mess?

I first met Tom D. when we took our 5th graders on a field trip to the University of Texas for a school career project. Later we volunteered together on many different projects and organizations in the school district and community. He's retired Navy (submarines) and his wife is the high school English and Drama teacher. Like me, he was a stay-at-home parent. His sons were friends of my sons...Boy Scouts, Eagle Scouts. In fact, Tom D. is an Eagle Scout.

The news of the complaints and ultimatums made my Tom and me both so MAD! What a waste of time and energy and so unfair! We couldn't let those old farts do this to Tom D. Even though we had been getting fired up about finishing things in and around our own home for a special event this spring,  we agreed helping Tom D. was more important.

The men who turned in the complaints go to my church. Tom D. goes to my church. We're all part of a family. They know Tom D., know all that he has given to the community, all of the personal issues he has been struggling with lately. He isn't just some random stranger, although that wouldn't make it right, either. As my Tom said, "Wouldn't the Christian thing be to offer to help him instead of complaining?"

I drove by Tom D.'s house yesterday after work. I wanted to see for myself what they were seeing...try to see it through their eyes.  It had been awhile since I'd seen it myself and there was this tiny seed of doubt in my mind suggesting that maybe it was just a mess.

I was amazed by what I found...it's a beautiful showcase home! Yes, there's a backhoe in the backyard surrounded by loose rocks, but it's behind this absolutely gorgeous wooden fence and hard to see, unless you get off of your golf cart to peer through the slats. There is an unfinished section of fence near the road in the front of the house, but it's not unsightly. And, my gosh, when you realize Tom D. built all of this by himself...it's just mind-boggling!

Glancing at the other houses along the golf course, I thought to myself that this house is a swan in a neighborhood of ugly ducklings. Is he being penalized for being an overachiever? It's as if the complainers are upset that he's creating something in his retirement, rather than spending his days following a little ball up and down the golf course, looking for things to complain about.

Take a look at these photos and tell me...is it just me? Is my view just distorted by my emotions and devotion to Tom D. and his family? (That section of fence that is falling down is Tom D.'s neighbor's, not his.)

Oh, it made me so angry!  How DARE they!

Which brings me back to Lent. Lent is a time for self-reflection, for peeling back the cover on yourself for an honest look...letting the light in to all the darkest corners and doing some spring cleaning...getting rid of everything that gets between you and God. 

So that's what I'm trying to do now, and UGH!! It's not a pretty sight! You just have to trust me that there are some ugly things in there.

Relax...this isn't going to be a True Confessions post, but suffice it to say, I have plenty of things to ask forgiveness for, plenty of things to try to change about myself, plenty of things getting in the way of my relationship with God, keeping me from being the best person I can be.

I'll share this much: earlier this week I was overcome with despair, discouraged about my writing. It came out of no where and hit me like a tidal wave. The thing is, I know better. I know I can't compare myself to other people. There will always be someone better, someone more successful. I just need to do my best, my way. I know all of that, but still, the wave knocked me down. Oh, sure I could blame it on hormones and exhaustion, but even those are no excuse.

Then I had to spend two mornings trying to untangle a communication knot with the college financial aid office and the loan processing agency. Something that should have been easy but wasn't because of miscommunication and website glitches...a huge pot-holed circle with lots of finger-pointing and passing of the buck, with me stuck in the middle facing unpaid housing bills. 

Those are the things that get to me...that make me feel so frustrated and impatient and angry with people...especially when I'm feeling that familiar suffocating weight of all of these loans and Lord have mercy, the last thing I want is another one! I don't want to be talking to these people anyway! But I need the loan and I hate that!

Then I remembered...God is here, beside me, waiting. It was tough, but I let go of my worries and frustration...just handed the whole mess over to him and trusted him to take care of it. And a phone call yesterday morning proved he did. Of course he did. He's much better at that sort of thing than I am.

 So back to Lent. Yesterday was Ash Wednesday..."ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." I have to face the fact that I'm human...surrounded by other humans. I'm flawed, no better than anyone else. Just shine a light over there, in that corner...see? ugh.

So my anger at Tom D.'s finger-pointers has disintegrated, exposed by that blinding light. I can't judge anyone. What gives me the right to be so self-righteous? So high and mighty? Who the hell do I think I am?

It's true I still don't understand what they are complaining about. But instead of being angry, I feel sorry for them. How sad and miserable they must be, how shallow and empty their lives must be, to go to these lengths about something like this. I think prayers will help more than anger. For all of us.

Also for Lent, to slow me down and make myself contemplate spirituality and God's work in my life, I've started reading my friend Gina's book From Gravel to Glory. She told me I should take the book slow because it's "pretty chewy", so I'm just "biting off" a few pages each morning while I have my coffee.

How about you? If you peeled back your cover, what would you find hiding in the dark corners? What would you like to change about yourself?

Feeling the Squeeze but Holding on to the Dreams

On the local news this morning I heard there was going to be a meeting tonight at the University of Texas - an open meeting between students, parents and administration to discuss a potential tuition hike.

Funny...I wasn't invited.

I receive a newsletter from the University...a newsletter from the Parents' Association...and I'm on the email list for the University President's new blog, Tower Talk. If any of these mentioned the meeting, I didn't see it.

It's not that I would be able to attend, anyway. After work I need to come home and write...trying to gather all the pennies I can to pay those monthly financial aid loan bills and gambling on writing a best-seller to pay off all the loans, once and for all...and possibly pay for my own college classes.

Tom can't attend - he's gone twelve hours a day as it is and when he comes home, he helps with the housework and then on the laundry room...still determined to finish building this house we started almost a decade ago.

We're still chasing our dreams because we don't want our kids to give up on theirs.

But I hope there is someone there who can speak for us...the ones who make just enough money that the only financial aid available is a semi-low interest loan, but not enough to pay the tuition otherwise, and not enough to pay for four years of college x 3 kids worth of loans without drowning.

Will someone speak for those of us with above-average, hard-working kids who are good at a lot of things, but not necessarily the best at anything?...who don't excel at one thing enough to qualify for a scholarship?...who aren't part of a minority, so can't qualify for a scholarship?

I wish I could be there so I could explain that we don't live extravagantly - it's not that we have the money and just choose to spend it elsewhere. We have one car payment - the first one since 1988. Our kids don't have their own cars, used or otherwise. They were the last ones to get cell phones and personal computers (high school graduation gifts.) They don't mind hand-me-down clothes or shopping at Goodwill. They've never even been to Disneyworld, except the oldest who went for a high school band competition years ago.

In fact, I've never been to Disneyworld or on a cruise or to Cozumel.

Don't get me wrong - I don't resent these things - they are sacrifices I made knowingly and willingly when I chose to be a stay-at-home mom, and they were worth it. But what I didn't expect was for college tuition to be out of reach - even at the public level. We couldn't afford the Texas Tomorrow Fund, but we thought the kids would be able to work enough to pay for it...gather some scholarships...perhaps go in the military if necessary.  They are working...they did gather some scholarships...the military option is out because of asthma...but I'm wondering now if they'll even be able to finish if the tuition continues to climb.

It's all I can do to stop one of them from dropping out even now - he wants to save us money and thinks he'll go back on his own, later. As a college-dropout myself, still holding on to that dream of finishing "one day", I just can't let that happen.

If anyone goes to that meeting tonight, will you please speak for us?

Praying for Haiti

Earthquakes scare me. I've never experienced one...just seen the devastation from the big ones on television.

Hurricanes destroy and devastate...but they come with warnings. Even with tornadoes, you see the storm clouds on the horizon.

But earthquakes are sneaky. There can be a blue sky overhead...no warnings flashing on the television or sirens going off...then wham! In just a few seconds your life...if you've survived...has changed. 

My heart is breaking for the people in Haiti. From my sheltered, comfortable living room, I can't imagine experiencing that kind of catastrophe.

I will be praying for the survivors and for those who have rushed to their aid. But as a friend pointed out, it's a time for more than prayers. We are all called to action.

"I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do." - Edmund Everett Hale

I can't jump on a plane for Haiti...I can't send a lot of money...but even with bills piled on my desk waiting to be paid, I can send something. It's God's money, anyway, not mine; I know he'll provide for my needs and he's giving me a chance to help others.

"The miracle is this - the more we share, the more we have." - Leonard Nimoy

Please join me. Here are some sites to go to for ways to help:

Shelter Box http://www.shelterbox.org/index2.php
The American Red Cross http://www.redcross.org/
Unicef http://www.unicef.org/
Operation USA http://www.opusa.org/

Please say a prayer for the people involved with Embrace Haiti, an organization that a friend of mine is involved with. They are committed to helping the people of Haiti all the time...for example, digging wells to provide water for villages, and last I heard, there has been no contact with them since the earthquake. 

"We can do great things, only small things with great love." - Mother Teresa

 

My friend Scott with one of his new friends in Haiti on a mission trip last year. Yesterday Scott reported "Our friends in the northeast of Haiti were far from the quake so it is our prayer that they are OK, however we have not received any communication from the missionaries. Please join us in our work! You can save lives and change yours in the process."

Fixing Old Boo-Boos...and Contemplating Bigger Issues

Was it a basketball or soccer ball? We're not sure. It could have been either. Or both.

What we do know is...sometime within the past 5 years or so, Kendall got banged on the nose hard enough to break it. But she has always been so tough, so immune to the bumps and bruises that go with the game(s), that she probably didn't even mention it to me when it happened.

However, I did realize awhile back that the bump on her nose (the one she inherited from me) looked a little...different. And she said it was tender. Finally, the allergy doctor mentioned she had a deviated septum - she hadn't even realized she was mostly only breathing through one side of her nose.

So tomorrow morning we'll be leaving the house while it's still dark ...she's going to have surgery so she can breathe with her whole nose for the first time in years.

 Unfortunately, we didn't know to ask the right questions when we first met with the surgeon...and he didn't mention to us until last night that this surgery won't do anything to repair the sore bump. Insurance considers even the repair of a broken nose elective "cosmetic" surgery; he got tired of dealing with them and quit performing that type of surgery. If you are aware of this in advance, you can arrange to have a plastic surgeon work his magic at the same time...if you can afford it. But we also just found this out last night and it has to be more than two days in advance. Granted...cosmetic surgery is way out of our budget right now, but I would at least like to have known all the options.

So, here we are headed into this surgery feeling a little frustrated. Frustrated that we weren't given all the information up front (too often these days it seems you have to become your own expert at everything!) Frustrated that insurance companies have gotten so stingy and full of red-tape that doctors have given up dealing with them.

Thank God that when Tom had his accident more than a decade ago...when the steering wheel split his face - his nose - down the middle...our insurance treated his nose injury as a medical treatment and not "elective" cosmetic surgery...he had an amazing plastic surgeon stitch his face back together...within a week, the scar was barely visible!

Granted, Kendall's injury isn't as traumatic as Tom's by a longshot, but an injury is an injury, and elective is elective. Tom could have survived with just a regular surgeon patching his nose back together, and I would love him just as much if he had a huge purple scar running down his face, but, again, thank God our insurance treated it as a medical problem rather than an elective procedure or a luxury.

Yes, I know our insurance industry has some big problems. But then I stop to think...what would our experience be like if we didn't have this system? She could have had this surgery within a week or two of her initial visit with the surgeon (we waited until Christmas break so she wouldn't miss any school)...and 90% of our costs tomorrow will be covered. In countries with national healthcare programs, we wouldn't have been able to choose the surgeon (our allergy doctor recommended this one from personal experience) and the wait for a non-emergency surgery like this...well, who knows if she could have even gotten it? (I'm basing this on a 20/20 program about healthcare from 2007.)

So I'll zip up my frustration for now and be grateful she's going to be able to breathe through both nostrils in a few days. But I realize I need to get more informed on this whole healthcare issue...with more current information and sources; if there's anything I can do to help the current system improve, I'll do it. It's flawed...no doubt about that...but it's still amazing...still a blessing that I take way too much for granted.

Please keep my little girl in your prayers tomorrow as she undergoes this surgery...no matter how minor, it's still a scary thing for a mom...

The Thing About Neighbors...

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

Dennis lived in Long Hollow first - years and years before anyone else thought it was appealing to live down a dirt road. He had the place all to himself, except for a few neighbors on the hills surrounding the hollow.

And then we showed up, bringing our three kids and two dogs out on the weekends to clear bits of the property, picnic and dream of the day we would live out here. Tom would rev up the backhoe and play like a little boy with a Tonka Truck.

Then the kids got older...busier...our visits were fewer and fewer...I'm sure Dennis secretly hoped we would be like all of the other property owners out here who never actually get around to building. We started wondering ourselves!

In the meantime others discovered the Hollow. Houses started going up, mostly on the surrounding hills. Just as we fell into the rapids of our own homebuilding, the first big neighbor vs. neighbor problem arose. It was a big one, about whether businesses were allowed out here and whether the Homeowner's Association carried any weight at all. It ultimately went to court.

We had our opinion on the issue, but were too busy trying to meet deadlines and pay bills to get involved. The downside was the demise of the Homeowner's Association and all deed restrictions. We're feeling the affects of that decision now...I think if it had gone the other way, we wouldn't have this crumbling wall of dirt on the end of our pond right now. No one could just buy property and do whatever popped into their heads out here...the deed restrictions protected the natural beauty of the hollow and everyone's investment from people who didn't spare a thought for anyone but themselves...who couldn't see beyond their own bit of land or how it was connected to the rest of the Hollow...the creek...our ponds...Lake Travis...and on and on...

Now Dennis told us this week that he's been having problems similar to ours...a neighbor who doesn't respect property lines. That's all he thought it was until a county inspector came out and discovered the neighbor had dug a pit for his personal "waste" which, when the rain ultimately hit the Hollow, overflowed into their pond and drifted merrily downstream to us. Yeah, thanks. Our little waterfall doesn't sound quite as pretty now.

But neighbors can be a good thing, too. For instance, take Dennis...Tom was out here working on the backhoe one weekend years ago, when we still lived in town. The ground was soft and the backhoe flipped. Thank goodness Tom wasn't hurt, but the backhoe had a busted tire and he couldn't drive it back home, so he walked down to Dennis' house and Dennis gave him a lift home (it was during those archaic pre-cell-phone days.)

It's because of another neighbor up the hill that we have trash service out here. And during that tragic fight between Charly and his brother Chewy soon after we moved in, the neighbor behind us heard my screams and cries and came through the woods to see what was wrong. He's the one that got them broken apart before they killed each other. If he hadn't come running, ready to help, I'm sure I wouldn't have had these last few years with Charly.

When our new neighbors downstream actually began building a house, we lamented not having this whole section of the Hollow to ourselves anymore and worried about what it would be like living so close to people again! But the truth is, it's been a joy. (And it's not just because they gave us a ping-pong table and a set of drums they didn't want anymore!)

We discovered we have many things in common...Andy is a contractor and likes to play cribbage. Reba is many things...gardener, cook, artist...but also a writer (you can read some of her writings on Dog Canyon.) And bless their hearts, they are peacemakers, trying to smooth out all of the feathers that keep getting ruffled in our little corner of the world. They are friends with everyone...very forgiving...you just have to admire that.

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

If only everyone else down here cared enough to understand that little nugget of truth...maybe we'd all truly be neighbors.

Love justice, you who judge the Earth...

...think of the Lord in goodness and seek Him in integrity of heart. (Wisdom 1:1)

Tom has been sleeping in starts and stops in between hours of lying in bed, wide awake. Last week he spent hours on a jury faced with a child abuse case - he was inundated with the kind of details that sink into your soul and aren't easy to shake...the kind that wake you up at night wondering if there was anything else you could do...wondering how you and another person can look at the same details and come away with polar opposite impressions and opinions.

They saw the X-ray of this two-year-old's femur, snapped completely apart - an 'X' where an 'l' should be. They watched the video of the little boy screaming in his sleep, swinging his arms to fend off attackers...heard the testimony of the foster parents describing a child so filled with fear he wouldn't eat.

It made Tom wince, thinking of the pain the baby endured when, as punishment for not walking on his broken leg, his diaper was ripped off and he was spanked so hard a handprint remained two hours later. Tom has had enough broken bones to know the slightest movement is excruciatingly painful.

They listened as the defendant changed his story, time after time, as evidence was presented that exposed his lies...he went all the way from total denial ("he fell out of the child's rocker when I was in the other room...") to admitting he grabbed the baby by the arm and leg and then twisted, afterward tossing him onto the bed so hard his face hit the wall and bloodied his nose.

The admissions came begrudgingly, only after evidence and other testimony contrary to his forced him out on the ledge, and yet many jurors believed him when he said it was just an accident and he didn't know it would hurt the baby and that he loved him as his own..."I love kids...I hope to have children of my own one day...I've been taking parenting classes..."

"He's been lying about everything! How can you believe this?" Tom asked one of the other jurors.

"Because now he's under oath!" 

(I envy that juror their faith in human beings...their belief that being under oath works as a truth serum and that everyone honors their 'word'.)

And Tom couldn't talk about it outside of the courtroom. He talked to God, praying for wisdom and guidance, but he couldn't tell me what was tearing him up - he had to hold it all inside, driving the images and frustration deeper.

Because the baby was in a body cast for four months, the defendant was found guilty of the most serious charge possible and could have been sentenced to 99 years. Because of his four previous felonies, the minimum sentence was 15 years. To Tom, after seeing and hearing the evidence and testimonies, that wasn't even enough - he felt it was a disservice to the pain and trauma the baby had suffered, and he worried about the man being around other children.

To his dismay, many on the jury thought 15 years was too much.

In the end, after holding out for four hours, Tom agreed to the minimum sentence so they could go home. But he told the other jurors that when he left, he would know in his heart he tried his best to do the right thing by this little baby who had to spend four months in a body cast....who was spanked violently after having his leg broken by a man who couldn't control his rage.

Yes, there are underlying social problems that we all need to be concerned about - poverty, unemployment, overcrowded jails, rehabilitation programs that fail - but that doesn't mean a person shouldn't be penalized for their crimes. Each of us is responsible for our actions. Social issues can't be blamed for everything - there are plenty of people who are poor and unemployed who are also compassionate and ethical; there are plenty of people who are rich and "successful" who don't think twice about lying to save their skin or get a little further ahead.

This man had been abused by his own father (he said) and yet he took these steps to continue the cycle. I pray this link is broken - I pray the little boy is placed with a loving family...has a real man for a role model - one who is filled with compassion and love rather than selfishness and pride and violence.

I pray the same thing for the defendant as well. Obviously he needs a good role model, too. I pray it's not too late for either of them.

And I pray that Tom is able to heal from the past week, that by talking about it and writing about it, he's able to exorcise the heartache and frustration, for his own sake, even though I know he will never forget that baby.

A Dam Update: Is it tacky to say "I told you so"?

Before I get into the dam update, I have to say this has been an absolutely beautiful, yet very prayerful, day.

It rained all night, but when it came time to walk the critters, the dark clouds were packing up and blue sky was peeking through. Before too long, the sun had taken charge of the sky...the cooler temperatures had remained...and it was as close to perfect as you can get on earth.

When I got home from work this afternoon, the sound of a roaring creek greeted my ears, Tom was grilling T-Bones (on sale at Randall's right now!), and Frankie left me a feather on the doorstep after he inspected the front bathroom.

But in the meantime, I had found out that my Uncle Bobby was having surgery for prostate cancer today and also that Sherrie, a high school classmate of mine, had passed away earlier this week. The funeral will be Saturday, a day when I'll be helping another classmate celebrate her 51st birthday.

 "A little too ironic, don't you think?" But I guess life's just that way...a balancing act...storm clouds and sunshine...beauty and destruction...life and death.

Okay, back to the dam...the good news is we have a full pond and a rushing waterfall and creek once again. (Didn't I say it was feast or famine around here?) The bad news is, we were right - at least a little bit, anyway - a portion of the dam collapsed into our pond. But for some reason being right doesn't feel so good this time...

I wonder how many tons of dirt washed into our pond?

Tom scoping it out with Max and Frankie...

Good news...the waterfall is back...my favorite spot on our land...

Question #1 - Does Texas care about its land?

I received an official letter from the Texas Commission of Environmental Quality today.

When the whole damn dam issue first popped up (for background info, click here and here), and I was desperately trying to find some city, county or state agency that gave a hoot or had jurisdiction over issues like this, I spoke to a man there, Joe, who was sympathetic but admitted his agency probably had no jurisdiction because of the height of the dam and of what was downstream...or rather, what was not downstream. He gave me some other names and numbers to try, wished me luck and said to call back if I felt he could help.

So, on a long shot, when the dam kept growing and growing, well above the 6 foot mark he gave me, I gave him a call. I might have sent him photos, but I've contacted so many different peoples and agencies, that I really can't be sure. Anyway, last week he called to say he was going to be in this area and planned to stop by our neighbor's property and take a look for himself. Tom and I had reached the point of resignation - the dam is built and we really don't expect anything to be done about it. But...the mention of this visit out of the blue was like one little flickering flame of hope. Surely, he would see for himself this towering wall of top soil just waiting for the inevitable Big Rain and Flood that always follows a drought to come tumbling into our pond-bed (this isn't just random paranoia, but actual fact-based dread based on facts from "Ponds - Planning, Design, Construction" published by the United States Department of Agriculture. Another outraged neighbor who has lived along this creek for more than twenty years loaned us a copy, and then we found it online.)

Well, we should have known better than to light that little candle...

"Dear Ms. Shallue,

On September 21, 2009, members of the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality's (TCEQ's) Dam Safety Program visited the dam under construction on the property own by Mr...., adjacent to the north of your property. The investigation was conducted in response to your complaint." (yeah, about six weeks after the fact!)

"Based on field measurements, additional information supplied by Mr. ...'s engineer, Mr. ..., (I think our neighbor hired him from the always amazing Craig's List! I saw his listing!), and our hydraulic/hydrologic analysis, it appears that this dam is not under the jurisdiction of the TCEQ because the relatively small amount of water impounded (and the height of the dam) make it exempt from TCEQ Dam Safety jurisdiction. Should this dam breach (should? This should read "when"...see above about the US Dept. of Agriculture's standards), the effects of the breach would not adversely impact any roads, residences, or buildings downstream.

We appreciate your contacting the TCEQ concerning this dam. Please let me know if you have any additional questions..."

Well, I realized I do have several additional questions...

Question #1: Does Texas care about its land?

Question #2: How high is too high? Tom (look hard - he's in the green) is 5'9". Joe told me anything over 6" is in their jurisdiction. I wonder where they took their measurements?

Question #3: Why is the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality concerned about roads, residences and buildings that are downstream, and not a natural creek and the land surrounding it?

Questions #4, 5, 6, & 7: Did you notice the trash that is strewn all over our neighbor's land , that has been there over a month, and that he is aware of and yet hasn't bothered to clean up? What about that whole "Don't Mess With Texas" thing? Isn't this an Environmental Quality issue? Wouldn't you have concerns about living downstream from someone like this? (photo taken in August...thanks to wind, rain, wild animals, etc. it's really spread out now.)

Question #8: Is there any agency in Texas with jurisdiction or concerns over the environment - one that is concerned about a natural creek and the land surrounding it, since obviously it isn't the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality? Hello? Anyone out there? That's what I was afraid of...

You know, I used to be proud of being a Texan.

Now I'm just going to put that candle away and stick my head back into the ground. Even knowing we'll be able to say "We told you so!" one day doesn't help this time. The saddest thing is knowing we'll never really be "neighbors" in the true sense of the word - not without a miracle, anyway. And I do believe in miracles, so I won't totally rule one out.

Several of you sent me information about how your state protects its natural beauty and handles environment concerns like this one. Would you please give it to me again? I realize it won't help us, but just knowing there are still some states that protect the natural environment (without involving lawyers) will help.

"When you're down and troubled..."

"...and you need a helping hand. And nothing, nothing is going right..."

    I used to cover for our church secretary every once in a while when she had to be out of the office. One of the best, but still toughest parts of the job was answering those calls from people who needed help...with electric bills, rent, doctor's bills, you name it. Even before the economy took its latest nose dive, thousands were laid off from their jobs, and the sun went on overtime, there were many among us who were already struggling.

    Tom and I have been juggling and stretching paychecks for a long, long time - we've been on both the giving and receiving sides of loans - but each of these calls would make my blessings suddenly crystal clear, as if a shade that had been pulled down blocking my view was ripped aside.

"Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there, to brighten up even your darkest night..."

    Sure, there are some people who have learned to work the system. They know the agencies to call for help...know how much they can get and how long they have to wait in between calls. But the majority are real people who have found themselves in dire straits with no where else to turn. You can hear it in their voices - the fear of the unknown, the humiliation of having to ask for help, the desperation. That was the tough part for me - hearing it in their voices. With each call I wished I was a millionaire so I could do something for them myself. I tried not to be condescending or pitying or any other "ing"...just tried to sound normal, like this was only a bump in the road that they would soon be over and it was no big deal having to call and ask for help.

"You just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again..."

    I couldn't help them monetarily myself - not every one - but with just a phone call to one of several St. Vincent de Paul Society volunteers from our parish, I knew they'd receive aide if they really needed it, whe ther or not they belonged to our parish or any church, for that matter. They didn't even have to be Christians ...they just had to live within our zip code. If they didn't, I could direct them to the right agency. That was the best part...a feeling that I was helping in some way. 

"Winter, spring, summer or fall...all you have to do is call, and I'll be there. You've got a friend."    

   I wonder if Carole King was thinking about the St. Vincent de Paul Society when she wrote "You've Got a Friend"? Or perhaps the Friend they're working for? The song sure fits.

"If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds and that old north wind begins to blow, keep your head together and call my name out loud. Soon, you'll hear me knocking at your door."

    Each year our parish holds an annual Oktoberfest to raise money for our St. Vincent de Paul Society and other organizations that help out in the community.  We have a garage sale, music, kids' area, turkey legs, country store, silent auction...all the usual festival fun. But the big fundraiser  - the one that gets the organizations through the rest of the year and determines how much help they can give - is the raffle.  

"You just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again...winter, spring, summer or fall...all you have to do is call, and I'll be there. You've got a friend."   

    I wish I could buy all of the tickets...but I can't. I work in an office with two people who belong to my parish. I have a handful of neighbors and no family in town. That's why I'm using my blog to ask for help - if you're reading this, would you consider buying a ticket? They each cost $10 but one ticket gives you a chance to win 5 prizes, and you don't have to be present to win.

This list has been updated for our 2010 Oktoberfest on October 2:

1st prize - $5000 gift card
2nd prize - Maid service for 1 year (or equivalent value gift card of $3000)
3rd prize - Apple iPad (or equivalent value gift card of $1000)
4th prize - Weber Performer Charcoal Grill (estimated value $450)
5th prize - iPod Touch (or equivalent value gift card of $450)

    If you're interested, you can e-mail me and I'll let you know how to get your ticket. But whether or not you buy any tickets, please say a prayer that enough money is raised to help all of those who will need it in the coming year.

"Ain't it good to know you've got a friend when people can be so cold. They'll hurt you and desert you...and take your soul if you let them...oh, but don't you let them. You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am, I'll come running to see you again. Winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call, and I'll be there. You've got a friend."

Well, think about it...and in the meantime, enjoy my favorite version, sung by James Taylor...

Whew! What a Weekend! I Need a Break!

    A new week starts tomorrow - a week that is going to keep me running from 5 am Monday morning until 4:30 Friday afternoon. Not only do I have the normal weekly challenges, but we're going to go computer shopping (Kendall) and car shopping (me!) And on top of that, I've got the weekend's overflow to contend with...things I should have gotten done this weekend, but didn't because I was too busy having fun.

    It was a weekend of reunions...Friday night Tom's old boss Al had an open house at his office. For Tom it was comparable to a high school reunion. Al was one of three owners of a small engineering company - Tom's first job in Austin. It was a tight-knit bunch. For reasons I won't go into here, the group has for the most part moved on to new jobs, but thanks to Al, every six months or so they come together. One of the old bunch is a member of a band - Relentless Jones - that has performed at the last two open houses. And they rock! We stayed WAY too late - another late Friday that got me off to a late start Saturday.

 

 

    But Saturday night we had another reunion - with my high school friends...a 50th birthday celebration for our friend Leslie (it was actually in June, but we couldn't pin her down to celebrate with her until now!) at the Steiner Ranch Steakhouse - a perfect place to be on a hot Texas night...first a fabulous dinner in a cold dining room, watching the sunset, and then listening to live music under the stars on a hill overlooking the Texas hill country, soothed by a constant breeze at just the right temperature. It was hard to leave, but I was determined to get enough sleep before my alarm went off for church this morning.

 

 

    This afternoon we had another reunion...with Tommy! He had swooped in from Dallas Friday night while we were gone and snatched his little sister up for a weekend of fun in Austin and San Antonio. He's such a great big brother! (He asked Daniel, too, but he couldn't take off work.) He brought her back home early this afternoon and stuck around long enough to watch a movie with me and Tom (the Ed Norton version of "The Hulk" - actually a good movie!) and walk down to see the latest devastation at the dam with Tom: the "erosion control" blanket of grass is sliding down the hill, along with a lot of the dirt. I guess I'll be contacting authorities again this week...just another item for my "to-do" list!

 

    But right now I still feel too "up" from the weekend to feel down about it. I'll deal with that later...

It's On Your Property, But...

    In the grand scheme of things - especially considering this week of life and death - the sickening, helpless frustration I have felt over the the massive wall of dirt that now towers above our pond, threatening its existence, seems like a minor problem. But our friend Jim reassured us that it isn't insignificant; he pointed out that just because our neighbor bought this property, in a sense it also belongs to everyone, because whatever he does to it can have a major impact on everyone else that lives around here and along the Colorado river. It's all connected. When you buy land, you are taking on the responsibility that comes along with it - it's a stewardship more than an ownership. And if we have reason to believe it's not being done properly, it's our responsibility to do something about it. So I'm proud to be a tattle-tale. I realize that after all my phone calls and emails to different agencies and officials, there's a chance that he IS doing everything properly or within his rights after all, and we'll just have to learn to live with it.

    But still...when I look at it, I just have to ask...WHY?

 

Can you see Tom standing in front of the wall?

 

Hoodrat?

Confession...I spanked my kids. And I don't regret it. Especially after watching this...

There are Aching Heads, and There are Headaches

    I've had a headache, as in aching head, for over 24 hours now - not a constant pain, but one of those knife-jabbing off and on jolts just behind my ear.

    Tom's concerned, which I appreciate. He wants me to see a doctor, which turns out to be another headache. Tom's insurance carrier changed last year. The family physician here in town, the ONLY one in town, the one we've been seeing for over ten years, doesn't take the new insurance. Trying to find a new doctor is such a pain.

   I wasn't up to working out this morning, but knew a walk with the critters would be good for me - the fresh air might clear my head, de-stress me a little. And it did, for a little while. But then...would you believe I picked up two empty beer cans on my short little walk?  And spotted a bottle off in the weeds? It's hard to believe, in this day and age, there are still ignorant, inconsiderate people tossing their trash out of their car windows.

    Where's the Tylenol?

    

When I Die - A Question of Ethics

    He had white hair (evident on his head and even his pubic area) and small tattoos on his hands in that spot between his thumb and his pointer fingers. The fine print on the sign outside the entrance says he and the other bodies on display gave permission for their bodies to be used in this way, for "education", but did he realize he'd be known as "The Drawer Man"...that his body would have cross-sections cut out of it and pulled out like drawers? 

    That was one of the questions running through my mind as I walked through the Body Worlds exhibit at the Houston Museum of Natural Science this afternoon.

    Actually, Kendall, Daniel, and I decided it was a perfect day to go to the zoo. The Houston Zoo is wonderful and we haven't been in a long time. Unfortunately, everyone else in Houston decided to go to the zoo today, too. We circled the parking lot for thirty minutes before giving up and deciding to go to the museum, after all.

    It seems everyone else that gave up on the zoo idea decided to go to the museum today, too.  The parking garage was closed right after the mini-van behind us, which is good because they let us in ahead of them! I would have felt awful if they didn't get in!!

    Once inside, this is the line we stood in to get tickets! No evidence that our country is in a recession here, even in the Body Works exhibit, with $25 tickets (although we all got the college discount.)

    However, it went pretty fast, and overall, the exhibit was interesting and educational - especially seeing the aneurysm (because my dad had one in his abdomen years ago), the "hardened" arteries, the healthy lungs vs. the "smoker's lungs", the enlarged hearts, the tumors and breast cancer, and the liver attacked by cirrhosis. The fetus exhibit claimed all examples were pre-1920's and from natural causes, but it was still heartbreaking. I found myself praying for all of these babies, and the people who donated their bodies to help us learn, and hopefully treat ours better, even as I saw some visitors laughing and joking. We're all so callous and desensitized from television programs and fake exhibits, I'm afraid. I guess it was hard to remember these were all living people, who loved and were loved. 

    I couldn't forget it, though...

    Afterwards, we zipped through some of the other exhibits, mostly the shells and gemstones, just for old times sake. We've seen them a million times before. The museum was free after 2pm on Thursdays when the kids were little and we lived in LaPorte. We went a lot. They LOVED it. I knew when all the fun things were free. Every summer we had a "fun" day - we went to the Natural Science museum, the zoo, the Children's Museum, the Art Museum, or swimming, to the beach...something different every week.

    Here are some samples of exhibits that NEVER change - and I'm glad.

 

 

 

 

They still have fun together, and I'm glad about that, too. (Look at all those other people!! I was ready to get back to my corner of the country and wide-open spaces!!)

New Roads and Special Deliveries

    I took the day off so I could break my procrastination cycle - I drove to the downtown campus and delivered my class portfolio a DAY EARLY! It's a small step in the right direction. I hope I can keep it going...eventually. But for the next few days I'm going to be playing catch-up on everything around here (again) - decorating the tree and the house, sending out cards, going through the overflowing pile of unread mail on my desk, catching up on e-mail...

    On my way into town, I suddenly had this horrible feeling that I was lost - I was on a rode I had driven millions of times, but I found myself in a totally unfamiliar area. It took me a few minutes to realize a new portion of the road had opened. It bypasses a section nicknamed "the S curves", a section prone to serious accidents because people try to take the curves too fast.  After several years and many accidents, the highway department realized there were too many impatient people who refuse to slow down on the curves and so have a tendency to cross into other people's lanes (oncoming traffic, of course) so they built a straight(er) bypass.

    I've had mixed feelings about taking away the curves - I grew up in an area where almost all of the roads are straight lines (and there were STILL deadly accidents) and I actually liked the curves - they seemed like part of the personality of the hills. I had mixed feelings even after Tom was hit head-on and almost killed by a teenager who crossed into his lane on the first curve back in 1998. He had extensive injuries and spent a week in the hospital - he still aches all over, especially during cold weather. I stayed the whole week with him (my third published essay - I'll add it on here...someday.)

    After Tom's accident,  our mayor instigated a change in that particular curve, but it was a good compromise - it was still a curve, but widened and stretched out so that the kick at the end was gone. I don't have an opinion about this new section yet - I was too disoriented to think about it beyond "where the heck am I?" But I have to admit I said extra prayers every time my kids had to drive those 'S' curves - especially if it was raining - so I guess if it really makes a difference in the number of accidents, keeps even one family from experiencing what we went through with Tom's accident, or gives a parent peace of mind, then I'll be happy about the change.

My Hometown Made the Today Show!

    I heard it loud and clear..."DEER PARK, TEXAS." It was a story about schools, and it was one of three cities mentioned. High honors!

    Not really - unfortunately, the story was about high levels of toxic chemicals being recorded near schools. USA Today has compiled a special report called "The Smokestack Effect - Toxic Air and America's Schools" with all the details - click all the way through - they even have a list of the "most polluted" by state. My old high school only came in at #146 in the nation, but one of the elementaries (not mine) came in at #6! Here's a quote about it...

    "At San Jacinto Elementary School in Deer Park, Texas, data indicated carcinogens at levels even higher than the readings that prompted the shutdown of Hitchens. A recent University of Texas study showed an "association" between an increased risk of childhood cancer and proximity to the Houston Ship Channel, about 2 miles from the school."

    Impressive, huh? You can type in the name of your school and it will tell you where you rank. I hope yours isn't as high as mine.

    There's one highlighted headline "Toxics can affect adults, kids differently." It makes you want to shout DUH, doesn't it? Yet that was the point I tried and tried to get across to my supervisors at my plant when I was pregnant  - how much more a fetus would be affected by exposure to chemicals than an adult. I wasn't trying to get out of work, just get them to establish more safeguards - specifically, more ventilation hoods in the lab where I worked. (They finally did.)

    The second essay I wrote and had published was about this same subject - about my grandmother's death from leukemia, and all of my high school classmates who developed cancer just a few years after graduation. It's why Tom and I packed our bags, loaded up the kids, dogs and cat, and headed for the hills...of Austin. (I'll add it to my blog once I get this screenplay assignment out of the way...)

    I haven't read the article all the way through yet, but I think it touches on something no one wants to believe - that just because you don't live next to one of the industrial plants, you shouldn't feel free to breathe that deeply: the toxic air can travel far and wide - you might not smell it, but it's there all the same.

    Now, back to work...I've started on my 3rd page! Ya-hoo!! I worked after the Christmas party last night (which was fun - lots of two-steppin', waltzin', and even a Cotton-Eyed Joe.) But I'll be up all night tonight - at least until I get through #20 and email it to my teacher. I have a meeting at work tomorrow at 10am - I've decided I'll have to bring my tape recorder. I have serious doubts about being alert enough to absorb any information...Think of me when you're snoozing away tonight!

     

I Have a Similar Dream

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. (Martin Luther King Jr., letter from Birmingham Jail 1963)    

    When Daniel was a high school senior, he applied to five or six colleges, public and private. He had worked hard and was accepted into all of them. He received large academic scholarship offers from each of the private schools...except for one. His first pick. He was disappointed, because there was no way we could afford it otherwise, and at this particular school, academic scholarships are only offered to incoming freshman. If you don't get it then, forget it.

    His disappointed turned to frustration and anger, though, when through the grapevine of our small school, he discovered that two of his friends, both smart and gifted, but without Daniel's level of academic achievement, had each been offered large academic scholarships to this same college.

    At the urging of the boys' moms, friends of mine, I contacted the admissions counselor. In a nutshell, she conceded that the boys' African-American heritage played a big role in the scholarship offers. They ended up offering Daniel a smaller scholarship (they had run out of scholarship money), but by then he had a bad taste in his mouth for the college. Instead, he went with his second pick - UT - which he absolutely loves. So it worked out.

    Except...I grew up in the sixties and seventies witnessing the Civil Rights struggles, sympathizing and getting angry about injustices, gaining inspiration from Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speeches, agreeing that all men (and women) are created equal and should be treated as such.

    I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I angrily castigated some welders years ago for bragging about harassing African-Americans they saw walking down a sidewalk. I worked with and made friends with people of all different nationalities and ethnic backgrounds. I had worked hard to bring my children up to be color-blind, and had done a good job. 

    But this experience left a mark on all of us. Obviously, there was still discrimination and racial injustice in our country, and not just against minorities. My son became a victim of it, too, only how could we protest without being labeled racists ourselves? 

    And then, after this election, I was reminded of it again when it became obvious by the news coverage and interviews that many (not all) voted for Obama because of his skin color. I'm sure many voted against him for the same reason (although obviously not as many), and it just makes me sad, either way, especially when King's "I Have a Dream" speech was being quoted along with the admissions...

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

   I have a dream, too...that someday soon everyone will be judged on a level playing field, with no consideration at all of the color of their skin, their religion, their gender, their heritage, their eye color, height, weight, or anything else. I hope Obama's election helps make this come true, somehow.

   I don't think King's dream will be fulfilled until mine is.

Yes, He Did!

    It wasn't really a surprise, Obama winning the election. I'm curious to see if things change as promised...I've already heard him say something about 'maybe next term'...

    I also wonder how long this honeymoon period (when everyone in the media wants to be his best friend) will last?   

    But life goes on...one change for me is I'm playing my drums again...two days in a row for about five minutes each. Yesterday it was to Boston's "Don't Look Back" and today to "Sandy" by Bruce Springsteen. That's more than I've played in a good six months.

   (I use the term "played" very loosely - mostly it's just a lot of noise. If someone listened from outside, they'd think "construction project", not "rhythmic music." That's why I can only play when I'm alone. But it's a GREAT stress-reliever!)

    Another change for me...with any collection, there comes a time for culling, and that 's what I've done with my job collection. I'm down to just two - I had to let my subbing jobs go, at least for now. It's one of those weird things...I'd go months without working at either one, but now that I have an almost fulltime job, I'm getting called all the time.

    Ah, Brucie's singing "Rosalita" right now...I know what I'll be playing to tomorrow...

Election Day AT LAST!

    First of all, if you haven't voted, DO IT NOW! I was an early bird this year - I didn't want to take any chances. My day can take twists and turns I never anticipate, and I couldn't afford to procrastinate on this.

    That being said...I am SO glad election day is finally here. By this time tomorrow we'll know who won. No more campaigning for at least a few months.

    I'm an independent - a liberal conservative or conservative liberal, I haven't figured out which. I voted McCain-Palin because of the issues...not because of race as I've been accused (as a group, not individually.) I would have voted for Condoleeza Rice in a heartbeat. 

    If Obama wins the election, I'm not going to wail and cry and pull out my hair and leave the country. I think it's great that so many Americans are passionate about this election and seem to be embracing their role in the government by voting, but I worry about tomorrow. I hope the passion stays in the right place, and it isn't wasted on anger, hatred, or fear. We should be passionate about being Americans and draw together, move forward no matter who gets elected, because it doesn't end with the election. I hope everyone continues to stay involved and be informed and passionate and outspoken on all levels of our government - from local to national. 

    The President isn't the government. We, the American People, are the government. It's in our power to make this country great...or not.

On my soapbox, counting sheep...no, make that seagulls

     1am - Woke up and looked at the clock. Rolled over. Back to sleep.

     2:30- Repeat

     3:30- Repeat

     4:45- Repeat, up to the 'Back to sleep' part. Immediately upon waking, my mind filled with thoughts of things I need to do, and things that are bugging me, and sleep just ran away.

     I don't like feeling this stressed - this clenching of teeth and hyperventilating and walking in a daze not knowing what I should work on because it all needs to be done NOW! There's only so much "now" to go around. 

    But last night it wasn't my classwork or bills or even the youth retreat I'm organizing that kept me from a sound sleep. It was irritation caused by politics - specifically, the media claiming McCain made a mistake by choosing Sarah Palin. I think it was a great decision - I see her as a breath of fresh air - actually blowing away my cynicism like so much dust during a good spring-cleaning. (Well, some of my cynicism - it's a pretty thick accumulation.)

    Her daughter's pregnancy doesn't affect how I feel about her doing the job, but according to the media, it does...they say the "American Public is concerned." Well, hello...I'm the American Public. I'm so tired of the media supposedly speaking for me - the "American Public" - when they are just expressing the opinions of SOME of the American Public, or perhaps their own.

    I'm also tired of hearing both parties talk about how catastrophic it will be for our country if the "other" candidate wins. I suggest taking a refresher course in US Government, like I did two years ago. Despite my cynicism, I trust in our Constitution. I believe our Balance of Power system really works.The founders were geniuses. 

     The other bug crawling through my mind last night, keeping me awake, has to do with our little Peyton-Place-town. Our school district superintendent has committed plagiarism (no, really - it's not disputed); yesterday I heard a rumor that the school board might not call for her resignation (in Lago Vista a rumor has a surprisingly high truth ratio.) A woman with a doctorate in education, at the helm of our school district, might just get a slap on the wrist for plagiarism? Give me a break!! What kind of message would that be sending to our kids?

     I sent emails to the school board voicing my opinion (one of the great things about being an American, right?) There's nothing else I can do about it, so maybe I'll be able to get some sleep tonight. I need some rest!

    I'm so grateful that in just a few weeks I'll be able to escape to the coast for my annual women's weekend, and for a few days at least, forget about all of this.  Till then, if there are any more sleepless nights, I'll just start counting seagulls...or jumping dolphins...or margaritas...