Long Hollow

Mr. Amazing

When I walked in the door yesterday evening, Tom was pulling a bottle of Tabasco Sauce from the refrigerator. It was Hot Wings night.

I mentioned in another post how I'm fighting those nasty debt demons; I didn't mention how Tom is fighting them, because he deserves a whole post of his own.

What does fighting the debt demons have to do with Hot Wings? Just an example of how, when he discovers something he likes or if there's something we need, he figures out how to do it or how to make it himself cheaper... like the Hooter's Hot Wings sauce he learned to make by trial and error. Only they're so much better than Hooter's Hot Wings - I'm calling them Shallue's Hot Wings from now on. 

Tom came from a frugal military family background - with nine boys, you have no choice but to be frugal. He started working when he was 14 (I'm pretty sure... he'll correct me if I'm wrong!); he had a paycheck, therefore he paid rent to his parents, bought his own clothes and whatever else he wanted/needed. He learned to spot a bargain and fix things early on. He got around mostly by bicycle, but also shared joint custody of a car with his mom for awhile, I believe. Oh, yeah, and he went to high school.

I came late to the game... my parents had a tight budget and plenty of bills, even with two incomes, so I didn't get everything I wanted, but pretty dang close. I had two or three very short-lived jobs in high school, but my parents saw school as my job and I didn't have to work.

It wasn't until I dropped out of school, got a real job supporting myself and spending my own money on everything that I really learned the difference between "need" and "want"... Consequently, Tom and I have never really argued about money - or the lack thereof. We're on the same team as far as that goes, most of the time.

We bought a foreclosed home in an auction and he did all of the reconstruction himself (it had been stripped), including acid-washing the swampy swimming pool in the backyard (with help from a friend... thank you, Bob!) Before eBay, before Craig's List, Tom knew how to work those newspaper ads, and before you know it, for just $75, we had a slide for the pool.

Tom rarely buys things just for himself - what he tends to buy are things that he either uses to help us (big tools for working on the house or cars) or that we get to enjoy along with him, like television sets and the 4-wheel drive Suzuki Samurai; it was fun to drive around the dirt roads in, was useful for transporting rocks and firewood, and was the kids' main mode of transportation for a couple of years (it's currently out of commission from an accident, waiting in line with several other vehicles for Tom to fix.)

Usually he just buys for someone else, usually me. He splurges on me... my drums, my camera, my car. He's content driving a 10+ year old red convertible that has a leaky top, but he traded in his truck to get me the first new vehicle I've driven since 1990. Of course, I share it with him.

Have I mentioned he cuts his own hair? He taught himself when he was going to college, I was working and we had two toddler sons. At one time he was cutting all of our hair - we'd take turns standing in the kitchen - and now our oldest cuts his own.

We don't argue about money, but we do pull each other back down to reality if one of us starts talking crazy - usually me, talking about "needing" a fancy smart phone or a laptop. He never complains about splurges on my hair or college classes or my girls' weekends. Much.

I know he dreams of building a barn across the pond where he can toodle on cars, build furniture, whatever he wants with all the space he needs to do it in. There's no telling what he can do with enough space and tools.

I also catch him drooling over motorcycles for sale on Craig's List and he loves to travel virtually with me and Rick Steves on Saturday mornings. (One day I'll be telling you about our trip to Ireland, by golly!)

Over and above, he smiles and laughs and takes life day by day. I know he gets stressed. I know he worries he'll never get to retire, never get that barn, never have time to toodle or take off on a Harley road trip or spend a weekend in an Irish castle with me. But still he laughs and gives thanks for what we have, which is a lot. In fact, when I managed to sell our old television on Craig's List, he gave the man his money back to cover his gas for driving out here. 

And that's why I'm focused on making money now - the brunt of it has been on him for way too long, and if it comes in a paycheck to me, he can't give it back to anyone. It's time for me to step up to the battle line and fight with him shoulder-to-shoulder. 

P.S. He also cooks! Oh, yeah, I already mentioned that, didn't I?  Well, besides his Shallue's Hot Wings and French Toast I've featured on here before, he's a master at brisket...anything grilled, actually... he's experimenting with different fish dishes... and now he's talking about homemade tortillas! Am I right, or what? Mr. Amazing - that's my husband.

Last week, this is what I came home to...

Spicy Tilapia and mushrooms... yum! Thank you, Tom!

The Man in the Doorway

We should never be ashamed to own
that we have been in the wrong,
which is but saying that we are wiser today than we were yesterday.

Alexander Pope

Thank you Mr. Pope, but I'm still ashamed to tell this story - I fear I'm no wiser than on the day it happened. But the image is fresh in my mind, a constant reminder that I get caught up in my own life and my needs too much... so focused inward or on my immediate circle that there are times my eyes don't really see, or at least do no more than see on the surface.

But here it is. My confession.

TG and I pulled into a parking lot adjacent to a Mexican food restaurant near campus; she was hungry, and as her mother, I wanted to feed her. It was also a good excuse to spend a little more time with her.

The lot was empty... obviously the restaurant wasn't open. I swerved toward the building to make a loop and head back to the road, and that's when I caught a glimpse of him - the man in the doorway.

 He was curled on his side on the ground in the alcove of the restaurant's entrance. An empty wheelchair sat beside him as he slept. 

At least I think he was sleeping. I hope he was sleeping. That's one of those questions that started nagging me the next day, along with that image... was he just asleep, passed out from drinking? What if he had been beaten up and left there? What if he was dead, or left for dead?

There are so many homeless persons wandering the streets downtown, asking for money, sometimes aggressively. Not long ago, a pedestrian was stabbed by a homeless person. 

When I saw this man lying there, I'm ashamed to say my first thought wasn't to get out and help, to see if he was okay. No, it was to get the heck away, to protect my daughter, even though I didn't think about it in those terms. No thinking, just action. A flight instinct that I'm sure is very human, but one I still regret, even though I still don't believe it would have been wise to approach him on our own.

But instead of just heading to another restaurant, I should have done something for this man. I'm just not sure what, though. But I don't believe in coincidence, so it weighs on me that my path was led to that parking lot for a reason. And I get the feeling I blew it.

What bothers me the most is how easily the man slipped from my mind... until the next day. And now his image won't go away.

What could I have done? What would you have done? I want to be ready next time. At least I hope I get another chance.

On the last day, Jesus will say to those on His right hand, "Come, enter the Kingdom. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was sick and you visited me." Then Jesus will turn to those on His left hand and say, "Depart from me because I was hungry and you did not feed me, I was thirsty and you did not give me to drink, I was sick and you did not visit me." These will ask Him, "When did we see You hungry, or thirsty or sick and did not come to Your help?" And Jesus will answer them, "Whatever you neglected to do unto one of these least of these, you neglected to do unto Me!"

 

 

What do you do, what can you do...

...when you hear on the news that there's a shooter on the campus where your kids spend their days... and then you hear he's in a library and so you glance at your son's schedule and see he's supposed to be at his job in a library right at that minute, and so your heart, which has dropped to your feet, then bounced and swelled up into your throat, swells more even as you're telling it to chill, that there's no sense in worrying. Then you glance at your daughter's schedule, relieved to see this is her late day, but then that pesty thought skitters through... what if she went to the library to study? That library?

In my case, I pick up my cell phone to text them to make sure - and there's one from Daniel, beating me to the punch, telling me about the incident and adding, I'm okay, still at the apartment, and so then I call TG who answers on the first ring, I'm okay.

Then I give thanks and pray for the other kids and parents who might be affected... and then give thanks again when I hear no one was injured but the shooter. So I pray for him and his family.

And give thanks again.

But still, running through my head is one question... why? Poor kid. How miserable his life must have been that he resorted to this.

On Aug. 1, 1966, Charles Whitman went to the 28th floor observation deck at the UT clock tower and began shooting at people below. He killed 16 people and wounded nearly three dozen before police killed him about 90 minutes after the siege began.

For more information on the incident at the University of Texas today, click HERE.

 

Autumn Fever (Another Amazing Monday)

What a glorious evening! Autumn finally rolled into Texas on the late train last night, dropping temperatures twenty degrees and sweeping the humidity and the mosquitoes somewhere else. The window beside me is open; a harmony of the crickets and the little creek, rushing to Lake Travis, is drifting in along with the cool breeze. 

I had a firm "to-do" list for this evening, but I penciled in a few minutes on the front porch before sunset, rocking in the fabulous wood and iron chairs my sweet friend Gwen sold us cheap, cheap... sipping a glass of pinot noir... scratching Belle's ears... and laughing at the cardinal family, who are finally building up enough nerve to venture close to the bird feeder. You just can't waste an afternoon like this on "to-do"s that keep you inside! This is my absolute favorite time of year - clear skies, cool mornings, warm afternoons. I guess in some places this is called "summer", but for us here in Texas, this is fall. It makes me want to grab a beer and hit a Renaissance Festival or Oktoberfest somewhere.

Tom took a break from changing oil in the cars and joined me... until the mosquitoes discovered us. Apparently only the dayshift mosquitoes were swept away, not the nightshift crew.

Despite not getting that much sleep, accidentally leaving my to-go coffee on the counter this morning, and the gap in my teeth where I popped out a crown last night, this was another wonderful Monday. Word must be out about this Monday competition: each one seems to be trying harder to top the last one. 

The dogs were frisky on our walk; we finished in record time (recent records, anyway) despite my frequent stops to photograph the thumbprint moon and those beautiful iris-like lavender flowers that are still multiplying along the road... I've searched for their name, but so far, no luck.

This was one of those weekends when I wished more than ever I could be two places at once. We had a special event planned with TG, and I can't pass up a chance to be with my kids. And then it was our anniversary - not an extravagant celebration, but a blue dragonfly finally posed for us down by the small pond...

But my nephew's wife and baby girl were only four hours away, on a visit from Montana Wyoming (oops! my sister corrected me! Thanks, Brenda!), and I would have loved to have seen them in person... as well as my brother, the proud grandpa, in action with this little girl that already has him wrapped around her tiny finger, and my parents' faces meeting their new great-granddaughter... the first baby in the family since TG!

I have to make do with photographs I hunted down on Facebook...

What a charmer!

They've promised to come back down for Thanksgiving, joined by my nephew this time. Fingers crossed they get to so I can get charmed in person myself!

Hope you had a wonderful weekend and a glorious Monday - here's to a great week!

Pack your bags, Debt Demons

When did they first move in? I'm not sure. They always sneak in, starting out small and seemingly harmless. We've run them out before, but they always slip back in, with some new, innocent disguise, some great excuse.

They didn't tag along on our honeymoon, I know that. It was probably during those years when Tom was a full-time student, we started having children and one tenant after another in our rental property stopped paying rent (rent that didn't even cover the mortgage payment!) Thanks to the economy, we couldn't sell it either, and we refused to file bankruptcy. Too proud. We would tough it out.

Yep, those little debt demons probably snuck in around then, but we eventually kicked them out - we thought for good. And good riddance.

But somehow they sweet talked their way back in, probably about the time I quit work to stay home with the kids, despite being so frugal we made the publishers of the Tightwad Gazette look like spendthrifts. 

We kicked them out again, determined to keep our guard up, not let them get a foot in the door, and yet here we are, once again, trying to figure out how we're going to get rid of them.

They've grown pretty big and nasty. Sometimes they scare me... my heart beats fast and I struggle to catch my breath if I look at them head-on.

But I'm tired of them hanging around, crowding me and Tom so much here in our Empty Nest that it cramps our style and keeps us from enjoying ourselves. I'm tired of feeling and smelling their stinky breath on my neck.

We've drawn up battle plans; we're determined to conquer them, drive them far, far away from us and then fill in those cracks so they never squirm their way back in. 

We're learning new tightwad maneuvers... we've pulled out the big guns and started blasting... I've gone back to work, have tried to find ways to bring in more income with this blog (more ads and affiliates - sorry!) and my photography blog (want to buy some photos?) plus I've become an Independent Representative for Silpada Jewelry. And I'm still plodding along on my book, hoping it will be the biggest gun of all when I finally finish it. 

Those debt demons have just got to go... and I have faith they will. For good...

"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

Wish us luck, anyway!

Have any tightwad suggestions for us? We're probably already doing them, but share them with me, please, just in case!

(Original artwork by our son, Tommy.)

 

How to Win/Lose a Heart Like Mine

Twenty-nine years ago today, I fell in love with Tom.

I didn't realize I was falling in love. I thought I was just having fun.

I was 22 years old and 5 years deep into a dead-end relationship with someone else. A relationship that I knew was dead-end but still couldn't break loose from - I still loved him for some reason only hearts can understand.

The night I met Tom was a rare Friday night off for me ... yet Old Boyfriend opted to go out with his friends instead of me. Strike 3.

Strike 1 was when I discovered he cheated on me a few years before. Strike 2 was... well there were a number of things it could have been between Strike 1 and the night I met Tom. 

I didn't realize it was Strike 3 at the time, though. I didn't know meeting Tom that night was a turning point. I wasn't looking for anyone else. I didn't expect anyone else.

So how did it happen? How did Tom woo me away from this longterm relationship when others had tried but failed, and I had accepted the fact that I might be single the rest of my life? 

It's still  mostly a mystery to me. A blessing.

Maybe it's because he answered questions. I'm nosy inquisitive and before our second dance was over I knew how old he was, what year he graduated from high school (I thought he was younger than me!) and where he was from (he talked funny!)

He was a gentleman - I was alone so he invited me to sit at his table with his friends and offered to buy me a drink. (No thank you. I'll buy my own. I didn't want to "owe" anyone.) He was there with the wife of a friend, which seemed strange, but meant his friends trusted him to take their wives dancing. Trustworthy is good. (This particular friend was a cop working nights.)

He was sweet but not pushy - he walked me out and gave me a kiss on the cheek. That's all. He didn't ask for a phone number, but he did ask what I was doing the next night (going to Gilley's to hear Alabama) and if he could meet me there. (Seems safe enough. Okay.)

He met me there, just like he said he would. (A man of his word.) He danced with me. (I like to dance.) He held me close, maybe even kissed me on the dance floor during the slow, romantic songs. Old Boyfriend didn't believe in public affection beyond holding hands, and I thought that was okay... but when Tom held me close, I liked it!  In between dancing, he talked. He told me a lot about himself. A lot. But he also asked about me. And listened, interested in what I had to say... in what I thought. Not fake interested - I could tell the difference.

He walked me to my car. He asked for my phone number - that's all - and I gave it to him, gladly.

I had gone on other dates. I wasn't going to sit around moping on my nights off if Old Boyfriend didn't want to be with me. I just didn't expect to fall for anyone else - so it surprised me when I couldn't stop thinking about Tom, hoping he would call me.

The next two weeks, before he asked me to marry him and I said yes, are a blur. He moved slowly, like you would with a shy animal; one false move in those first days and I would have skittered away. But he was persistent. Confident.

There was a movie, a Pat Benatar concert, a kids' birthday party, the Renaissance Festival, Mario's Pizza and stargazing in Galveston. He hooked me with his fun spirit, gentleness, energy, corny romanticism, passion... with his smile... and proceeded to reel me in with small gestures, like leaving an "I'm thinking of you" card on my doorstep to find when I stumbled home after my night shift. I liked knowing I was on his mind when we were apart. I liked him showing me I was on his mind.

I met his friends - you learn a lot about someone by the people he surrounds himself with. I introduced him to my friends and family, watched to see their reactions and his - you learn a lot about someone that way, too. His photo albums told me he was close to his family and that he loved adventure... they were filled with images of his parents and eight brothers, one of him coming home from a summer spent hitchhiking across Canada, dozens of his time in Alaska with the Coast Guard, riding his motorcycle, camping, rappelling... so gutsy, so adventurous, so independent and fun! (Why aren't you taken yet? I asked him.)

There was one big hurdle he had to clear: jealousy. Old Boyfriend was the jealous and suspicious type, way before I tired of his neglectful, cheating ways and starting going out on my own and with other people. I had been an engineering student, one of only a handful of women... I worked with guys at the chemical plant and had many male friends... I was constantly having to reassure him, defend myself, and I admit that sometimes I lied - not because I had done anything wrong, but because I knew it would make life easier. 

And it had pushed me to cheat on him, too. We had a relationship that brought out the worst in each other, not the best.

So, no matter how much fun I had with Tom, I wasn't going to put up with jealousy from anyone anymore. I even told Old Boyfriend I had met someone. So when one of those guy friends (actually an old boyfriend) called and asked me to help him shop for a birthday present for his brother, I said yes. And afterwards, I insisted he stick around and meet Tom that evening.

Tom was warm and friendly. No sign of insecurity, machismo or jealousy. 

So here's what it boils down to... Tom made me feel important, attractive, interesting, and fun. He was trusting and trustworthy, polite, self-secure but not too serious. He could laugh at himself and act silly. He was a man of faith in a quiet, solid way. He made me a part of his life and wanted to be a part of mine.

Old Boyfriend lost me, not just because he cheated on me, but because he made me feel insignificant and unattractive. He spent time with me as a last resort. He took me for granted. 

So why was I still with him? Who knows. I think it's just because I was waiting for Tom.

(How do you celebrate a 29th anniversary of the day you met? Tailgating downtown with your son and daughter, watching a football game on TV, walking the dogs, eating boiled shrimp and jalapeno potato chips, rocking on the front porch at dusk, listening to music, laughing at the cowardly cardinals trying to work up the nerve to fly to the bird feeder, and arguing heatedly about the chain of events of the first two weeks of your life together. Oh, and now watching a movie.Happy Anniversary to Us.)

 

 

 

 

 

Hallelujah, it's Friday! (Friday Favorites)

This has been a fast week, one of those that keeps gaining on you even when you quicken your pace. So part of me says "Hallelejuh!" and the other part says, "Dang it!" because I had so many things I hoped to accomplish before today. But Friday was too fast for me. 

The weekend has its own agenda. Actually, there are two possible agendas and I still haven't figured out which one will win. I hate that, not knowing what I'll be doing tomorrow.

But tomorrow is tomorrow and it will take care of itself. I have today in my hand and I don't want to waste it, worrying what will come next.

My favorites this week are random, much like the thoughts flitting through my head this morning.

First, splashes of yellow along our road. Yellow means summer, right? I know all the talk is about Autumn, but I'm still sleeveless and flip-flopping here. It doesn't feel much like fall. Besides, summer isn't over until I have my weekend with the girls on the coast, still ahead of me on the calendar.

 

These next two... well, I'm headed out the door for my morning walk along our road with the puppies, snapping more photos and talking to God about the things on my mind... they were easy picks! Hope you have a wonderful Friday!

It figures.

A raindrop tapped me on the shoulder yesterday morning as I was headed up the path with the puppies, and the stone walkway was freckled with more. I didn't want to risk getting my camera wet, so I stashed it in the car on my way to the road. It was kind of nice not having it swinging around my neck and, besides, nothing much changes along the road. One day without photos wouldn't matter.

Seconds later, a herd of deer dashed out of the woods, crossing the road just a few yards ahead of me. Belle and Max shot after them... Max in a full-fledged run, totally ignoring his sore elbow. It was several seconds before the last white tail disappeared into the woods on the other side, plenty of time for me to snap multiple shots of the scene. If I'd had my camera.

That was when I realized it wasn't raining. Dang it.

So I hoped to get a good shot of the Harvest Moon last night, to make up for the photo of the deer that I missed. But late afternoon storm clouds ruled the sky for hours; when I headed up to the road just after sunset, camera around my neck, I didn't expect what I found... a clear sky framing a beautiful full moon. It stayed still for me... didn't try to hide behind a cloud or run into the woods. Just sat there posing while I experimented with different settings on my camera, snapped dozens of photos and swatted the mosquitoes feasting on my legs and shoulders.

When I felt I'd exhausted the combinations, I turned to start down to the house. In front of me was a gorgeous sky... remnants of the storm clouds played with the dying sunlight. I tried to capture it, but I only had my zoom lens with me. So I just stood a moment soaking it up before heading down to the house.

I had no idea if any of my moon shots were decent. It was only after I had transferred them to Picasa and played around with them that I could see what I had... dozens of identical photos, but pretty good ones, of that beautiful Harvest Moon... 

 

Several Facebook and FlickR friends have asked me for my secret - that seems unreal to me! It's hard to believe I've figured this out before others with more photographic experience and knowledge, but then, moons are special to me. Maybe I just have more motivation. 

I'm not sure when I first felt their magic, but I can't keep my eyes off of them. I especially love them reflected on the water or surrounding clouds. It can get dangerous if I'm driving on a night with a full moon.

Maybe I can blame "Moonymouse", one of my first books. It tells the story of a mouse that daydreams so much it gets him into trouble. I can sure identify with that (see the note about full moon driving above).

I don't remember an actual moon picture in the book, but Moonymouse sure is cute, isn't he?

For more moon photos and the "secret" to my moon shots, click HERE.

Good Mondays (and long, long Tuesdays)

Monday was a good day.

Despite being out of coffee (remembering as soon as I stepped into the kitchen that it was the main reason I planned to go to the grocery store after shopping with TG the night before) the lightning, thunder and expletives a morning without fresh hot coffee would normally trigger stayed hidden behind this warm, fuzzy, sunshiny feeling. Corny description, but accurate. 

I'm not sure where that feeling came from. Maybe from the celebration of life I attended for a sweet lady on Saturday... upbeat, joyful and hopeful more than sad. Maybe from taking time to catch up with longtime, long unseen friends I ran into afterward when I dashed into the local grocery store (I spent more time talking than shopping!) or from the feeling of having a (semi-)clean, organized house, good friends over, and the University of Texas pulling out a win over Texas Tech.

Maybe it was from the 100 raffle tickets a friend bought (or from having another friend help me fill out the stubs during the commercials of the football game.) Or from a beautiful Sunday Mass followed by a day spent with TG and a good night's rest... I'm sure it helps to not start a week on a sleep deficit. Maybe it's from recognizing my blessings and changing my attitude (sleep helps with that!)

Whatever the reason or reasons, Mondays have earned a new reputation with me; this was the second "good" Monday in a row, a day when a smile comes easily to my face and no matter what the weather is outside, I can feel the sunshine inside. 

This past Monday, I zapped a coffee single in the microwave (thankful I keep them handy for traveling and emergencies like this!) and checked my email. I found a long, funny letter from a friend, a comment from a stranger, a young mom, telling me how much one of my blog posts had meant to her - she'd even shared it with friends - good news from a friend who needs good news, and photos sent from another friend visiting Paris right now. All of these people had thought of me and taken the time to let me know it. (Warm, fuzzy, sunshiny!)

I called Belle and Max for our walk. They were happy, too. It was a gray morning, but along the road the tiny wildflowers had exploded; patches of yellow and purple were everywhere. Was it because of the attention I'd payed them, by taking their pictures and blogging about them, like children blossom when given attention? More likely the recent rain coaxed them from their shyness, but either way, they brightened my walk. (Warm, fuzzy, sunshiny!)

Feeding Max and Belle on the back deck later, they barked "Breakfast time!" and soon neighbor Haley came trotting around the corner of the house, sat for her treat, then hopped halfway into my lap and gave me a kiss. You can't say no when a pit bull gives you sugar, even if you want to. But what a sweet morning gift. (Warm, fuzzy, sunshiny!)

And it was my parents' 61st wedding anniversary. I played the what-if game: What if Daddy hadn't dropped out of college to be a highway patrolman? What if Mama hadn't taken a job as a waitress or didn't have the nerve to ask him to that picnic since he was too shy to ask her? What if... well, you get it. What it boils down to is I don't believe in coincidences anymore. I know someone's got control of the Big Picture and that's a comforting feeling to me. I'll still chase my dreams, but I'm not going to despair over the detours. I like thinking of them as adventures. (Warm, fuzzy, sunshiny!)

After work, Tom met me for dinner at Panda Express (my fortune read "Your efforts are budding - results will appear soon." How cool is that? Not that I believe in them or anything, but still... how cool is that?) and then helped me with the grocery shopping - I couldn't procrastinate any longer.

That alone made it more fun, but then rounding a corner, I bumped into Denise, a friend from high school. Well, we didn't really know each other in high school, but we've become good friends on Facebook. This was our first face-to-face meeting, probably ever! What a great surprise! (Warm, fuzzy, sunshiny!)

And then there was Tuesday.

It started out in a similar way, if not better. I had fresh coffee, hallelujah! The sun was out, stretching into the Hollow on our early walk and I had more messages and photos from friends waiting for me on the computer.

But sometime that afternoon, after spending an hour and a half in the pouring rain and crawling traffic (on a trip that should have taken 30 minutes tops to get Daniel from a doctor appointment to class), and then having to hit 3 stores to find something TG needed, hunger, exhaustion and exasperation set in and I needed to hear my own admonitions to the young mom in aisle 7. Even old moms get grumpy and forget to look at the big picture when they're hungry and tired. (Sorry again, TG!)

I had looked forward to an evening at home, but instead it became another late night away from the house, the third in a row... away from working on my book, my blog, the laundry and other things on my to-do list. It's one thing to say those to-do's can wait for another day, just enjoy the time you have with your kids and friends, etc., but the truth is some to-do's really do need to be done... like paying bills and keeping up with laundry so you don't pay penalties or run out of underwear. And when writing is a job, a pathway to the light at the end of the tunnel, as well as therapeutic, it becomes a "need" more than a "want" and not having time for it just adds stress. That warm, sunshiny feeling has a tough time fighting off the storm clouds.

But I heard my own voice saying "... if only I had the chance to do some things a little differently..." and I apologized for my grumps before heading home alone, already missing my kids. I'm so silly.

The clouds in the night sky had broken, revealing a large, glowing moon over my left shoulder that kept an eye on me as I made my way through the dark hills. Tom had given up and already eaten, but the steak and baked potato he'd cooked were there waiting for me, still hot. And they tasted so good!

Now it's Wednesday, another gray morning. I can still feel that sunshine inside, but when I woke up the warm and fuzzy was still cold and damp from yesterday's rain, maybe because I opted to write awhile last night rather than get a full night's sleep.

But tonight I really do get to stay home. And on our walk this morning a herd of deer crossed the road in front of us (camera left behind in the car, alas, because of raindrops) so Belle and Max are happy and tired from the chase.

Oh, and I skipped for the first time in a long time. Before today, if I tried, Belle would get excited and skip with me... under my feet. Have you tried to skip with a happy puppy zig-zagging through your legs? It could be called "Extreme Skipping" and I don't recommend it. But she's growing up and today she was happy to skip along beside me; I could feel the wind drying out that damp and cold as we made our way down the dirt road toward home.

Hope your Wednesday is warm, fuzzy and sunshiny!

 

 

 

61 years later...

...and they're still in love.

It hasn't always been easy. I'm sure there were times they couldn't stand each other, because how could you live with someone for that long and not feel like you want to claw their face (symbolically speaking only, of course. Ahem.)

But they loved each other through those times, clinging to that lifeline that strengthens or weakens with each crisis a marriage encounters. It astounds me when I stop and think of all they've gone through together - the joys, yes, but so much sadness, stress, heartbreak. Just a fraction of what they've survived would snap ordinary marriages in two.

But this is no ordinary marriage. 

Happy 61st anniversary, Mama and Daddy.

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

If you slow down and get close...

If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change.
~ BUDDHA

It took a newcomer to make me slow down yesterday; the recent rains must have coaxed this delicate purple bloom out in the open. I don't remember seeing one like this around here before... but maybe I had just always been in too big of a hurry, too distracted by dogs and dams to pay attention.

I opened my eyes and discovered beauty I had been looking past for weeks... these tiny masterpieces were everywhere, lining the dirt road like a dainty garland.

At first glance, you don't notice them, they're such tiny bits of color clinging to wild weeds - not bold and brilliant as spring flowers tend to be, but modest and shy, unaware of their beauty. Wonderful reminders to me that it pays to slow down and pay attention to the tiny details, tiny wonders. Another reassuring reminder of God's mastery and attention to detail. (To see more images of these tiny beauties, click here.)

 

Friday Favorite Photo (Friday Already?)

I'm packing my days so tight these days that if this week was a suitcase, I'd be sitting on it right now trying to zip it up!

So Tom shouldn't have been surprised that I neglected my half of dinner-duty today. Yes, it's true. I forgot to take something out to thaw.

That's okay, though, because my husband is a resourceful, creative cook. French Toast for dinner is delicious! Thank you, Tom!

Without further ado... here are my picks for the Friday Photos of the Week. You can guess why... oh, and please excuse the messy house you see in the background. My half of dinner-duty isn't the only thing I'm neglecting these days!

September...

I heard Daughtry sing his new song "September" today. I've heard it before, but it wasn't until the words drifted through my head this morning that I realized it could be a theme song for this Fifty decade I'm traveling through.

"How the time passed away..."

It's depressing to think about, and kind of hard to even imagine it right now, but I'm in the September of my life! Up until now I've thought about it as a halfway mark, and it is, but it's also the beginning of the third season. The Autumn of my life. Wow. 

Spring - my gosh, it seemed to last forever, didn't it? When I was little, time seemed to stand still. Minutes were full, plump, juicy. I could linger over them, take my time, taste every little morsel. I can close my eyes and still taste them.

Summer - life picked up speed. That's when my juggling act began... work, husband, kids, the laundry, bills... an endless list (that somehow still continues!) I set myself and my dreams up on a shelf. Time for those later; my little ones need me right now.

I wasn't aware of seasons back then. One day ran into another, weeks turned into years turned into gray hairs and wrinkles. But two or three years ago, I felt it - something different in the air, a shift in the wind. A restlessness inside me.

"Of all the things I still remember
Summer's never looked the same
The years go by and time just seems to fly
But the memories remain..."

Remember when you were little and the thought of the new school year excited you a little, even though summer vacation was ending? That's the feeling I had about my approaching 50th birthday. And even though that day has come and gone, and I'm looking ahead to my 52nd, I still feel the same way. I love this 50 decade!

"The days are so long that summer's moving on
We reach for something that's already gone..."

It's a reflective time, for sure, but magical in a way. A time to dig out memories and sort through regrets, tossing those that serve no purpose, but re-filing those that have no expiration date into the "To Do" pile (Drop out of college? Go back now!) While you're at it, take Yourself and your Dreams down from that shelf and dust them off.

One of those dreams of mine is writing. It has bounced on and off that shelf so many times that it has a few knicks in it now, but it's still in one piece and worth holding on to, I think.

"In the middle of September we'd still play out in the rain.
 Nothing to lose, everything to gain..."

So I'm writing a book. Not the first book I've written, but the one I want to see through to the very end first. (The characters in my first book are used to me coming and going into their story. They're waiting patiently for me to get back to them.)

And I'm blogging, sharing my thoughts, experiences and whatever else comes to mind with who ever cares to read it. Writing a book is solitary; blogging is more social, but I sometimes wonder when I write a post if anyone will read it and I hope that they'll take the time to share their thoughts about it with me.

Today, thanks to BlogHer, all of this... the seasons, the reflections, the writing, the subsequent reactions from others... all of it came together for me when they syndicated one of my posts, "To the Young Mom on Aisle 7" on their site. (Click here to read it and BlogHer.com and here to read the original post.)

I was surprised at how many comments it garnered - and even more surprised by some of the reactions it triggered in others. Some readers accused me of judging the mom. Huh?

It made me wonder if my writing wasn't clear enough if they'd gotten that impression, but then others obviously understood it was merely a reflective piece, that seeing the mom in the grocery store had sent me spinning back in time to the days I had three little ones tagging along everywhere I went, when I always seemed to be in a hurry, always had so much to do, that I sometimes overlooked the most important "to-do's" that were standing right in front of me, tugging on my shirt and saying Mama. 

I have no idea if this mom was guilty of that or not. I know that I was at times, way back when... heck, I still am (just ask my kids!), and seeing her reminded me of that and made me wish for some do-over's.

"Reflecting now on how things could've been... "

Alas, we don't get do-overs. But if we're lucky, we get another day to just do the best we can. 

"Now it all seems so clear, there's nothing left to fear."

And Facebook Scores Again!

I skipped my work-out. Shorted the dogs on their walk. I had to start work early yesterday to make up for a planned midday break - a lunch date with a junior high friendship memory, brought back to life, thanks to Facebook.

Some people would question the use of the word "friend" in this case. There's a lot of discussion tossed around these days about the definition of friendship, what with Facebook making it so easy to "friend" anyone and everyone.

But even though my face-to-face memories of Mitch could form a peace sign, and I was so smitten with him, so shy, and so insecure that I couldn't speak more than one or two words in his presence, I had no problem yakking with him for hours and hours on the phone, and when he left for another school, letters went back and forth between us for months.

Then nothing. For years. Nothing except memories of a junior high crush and curiosity - whatever happened to Mitch?

Thanks to a reconnection with his sister last year, a message and "friending" on Facebook, and an hour or so of shyness-free yakking in person over hamburgers yesterday, now I know.

No longer just a memory or a friendship from the past. Me and Mitch, friends. Period. Thanks, Facebook.

Has Facebook helped you reconnect with any long-lost memories? 

What a weekend! Where do I start?

I think I'll start with today, a Monday which has redeemed all prior Mondays in my eyes (even though it's not technically part of the weekend) and move backwards for a change. 

No, I didn't win the lottery or anything. We're still as broke as ever.. monetarily, anyway. And no, I didn't get another Monday off from work. But this has been a really, really good day.

I think part of it is I've taken John Lubbock's advice on priorities to heart and it's working! I haven't become super-productive or anything, but I've noticed a subtle change in my attitude, more purpose to my actions now. And attitude and actions are what count, right?

I couldn't help but have a good attitude after this: yesterday I posted on Facebook that I still had raffle tickets available for my church's Oktoberfest with a link to a post from last year about our St. Vincent de Paul Society, one of the beneficiaries of the raffle ticket proceeds (click here to read that post.) Right away I had responses from friends wanting to buy tickets... including one who wants to buy 100 - yes, you read it right - 100 tickets!

I can't do much myself monetarily to help St. Vincent de Paul, so that request made me sprout wings; I've been soaring like one of my jewel-colored dragonflies all day, knowing that my request initiated a response like that.

See? It never hurts to ask!

Now to Sunday... that's when I really took John's advice. I slept late because of a late Saturday night. I knew I'd regret it if I didn't. I went to Mass, not just because I knew I'd regret it if I didn't, but it's true I would. I tackled the laundry pile, the desk pile, the promises-I-made-to-other-people pile. I posted that request on Facebook. 

I took time to think about my Grandmother Annie B. - yesterday would have been her 104th birthday.

We took time to call Tom's brother Steve, the Montana brother, who I believe turned 52.

I worked and worked and worked on my book, even opting out of a walk with Tom and the puppies, knowing when it was all said and done, I would regret not working on the book more than not going on a walk.

Even when Tom came running in telling me about a huge spider down near the pond, I let him run back out alone with the camera. I admit I was a little sorry I didn't take this:

(I finally asked Mr. Google what it was - it's just a female Yellow Garden Spider. Such a plain-Jane name for something this splashy, don't you think?)

After working on my book, I played with my photos from Saturday... lots and lots of photos because it was our annual University of Texas Longhorn Football Game, courtesy of our generous friends, Saint Mary Kay and Saint Joe. We can't afford tickets ourselves, but thanks to MK and Joe, we get the full Longhorn experience once a year. (They share the love with other friends on the other game days.)

We started out the game tailgating in their son's apartment, part of a wonderful old duplex on a dead-end road near a creek, just blocks from campus! I love those old houses.

Hanging out, wishing we were college students instead of paying for our kids to go there... MK, Peggy, Jeff and Tom...

After stuffing ourselves on BBQ and fresh fruit, we walked those few blocks to the music hall, where we snagged some photos with MK and Joe's son, a member of the Big Bertha team... 

...and then on to the stadium...

MK and our bunch in our corner.. Jeff and Peggy, both UT grads but this was their first game! MK and Don, one of her first bosses. He's recovering from cancer; this game marked his 50th consecutive UT Longhorn opening home game - his doctors didn't think he'd make it to this one so soon after surgery, but he was determined. Where there's a will, there's a way, right?

We proceeded to watch the UT band and Big Bertha team (once a band mom, always a band mom)...

...and, oh yeah, the Longhorns kicked Wyoming's rear end. I actually did watch the game and took lots and lots of photos, of course, including some of actual football players. You can see the rest here, at Confessions of a Photography Addict.

Now on to Saturday morning... 

Another turtle! Belle discovered this one, but she didn't hurt it, thank goodness, just dug it up and brought it up to the porch. I traded it for a dog treat and put it in the bathtub until we could carry it down to the creek. It didn't seem very appreciative at all, even after Tom stepped ankle deep in mud to release him!

Turtles are awful grumps, aren't they?

I can't remember what else I did that morning, but I do know I took care of a lot of stuff I'd regret if I didn't!

I do remember that I slept late, because, once again, we were up late Friday night. We introduced some friends to the Hootenanny! There weren't as many musicians this time, but the music under the trees was still magical.

Keeping John Lubbock's advice in mind, I said 'yes' when Jim asked me to play the cajon box drum. I'd never played it before, had no idea how to play it, but I did it anyway, because I knew I'd regret it if I passed up the chance. 

Here's Eric on it later. I paid attention so I'd know what to do next time.

Oh, you see the photographer there next to Eric? That's Bruce Coville, one amazing photographer. Take a look at some of his Hootenanny shots here.

 

When you're around someone who is so much better than you are, you can either slink away, or you can take advantage of their presence to improve. I felt a bit intimidated, photography-wise, with Bruce and his muscle-camera's presence, but keeping John's advice in my head, I decided to take impromptu photography lessons that night, instead of slinking away. 

While I was at it, I took belly-dancing lessons from Liane, too. (no pictures!) Drums, photography and belly-dancing under the stars! Now that's a Friday night!

I didn't take many photos that night, but here are a couple I like of Triana and Robert Castaneda, married musicians extraordinaire... one 'normal' photo and one 'artsy' (in other words, no flash)... I think you get a sense of Robert's energy in both of them. That man can play the flute!

Now that's a weekend! How was yours?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friday Favorites - Puppy Love

"If we are ever in doubt about what to do, it is a good rule to ask ourselves what we shall wish on the morrow that we had done."

~John Lubbock

Balancing the "need-to"s and the "want-to"s... it's a continual challenge. I believe both are important, but I still catch myself feeling guilty for the "want-to"s.

This quote put it back in perspective for me; this morning I played my drums and tonight I went to the Hootenanny, just because I wanted to. Just because I knew tomorrow I'd wish that I had.

Each morning I take the time to walk my puppies because I know if I don't, I'll regret it. My favorite photos this week are two of Belle and Max that I think capture their sweet goofiness and the love they have for each other. 

I'm so glad we gave in and got Max a puppy. I know he and Belle are happy about it, too.

 

Thursday: a flood, a drought, and happy birthday, Pop!

Max headed off in front of me for our walk this morning, unusual for him these days, with his bum elbow. He usually lags behind until we're up the hill and on the road; otherwise Belle jumps all over him, adding intensity to the challenge of the climb.

It's been two days since we took our regular route down the road, thanks to Hermine, and you'd think it was a crisp autumn morning as frisky as he was, rather than a post-tropical-storm steam bath. I guess he was suffering from cabin fever. Or doghouse fever, in his case.

It might have been the water calling him. Max loves water, and he knew the long walk to the corner would be rewarded with a cool drink, at the very least, after all this rain. He didn't have to wait until the corner, though. Rivulets cut through the caliche, streaming out of the woods from the hill toward the creek on the other side, sometimes traveling a bit along the road with us first. I could hear the creek, although I couldn't see it through the trees; I could imagine the typically dry stone bed we'd walked so many times before now filled with fast water, rushing down toward our pond and on to the lake.

The sky was a washed-out, diluted blue above us, but it was blue, at last. Hermine finally tired of us and moved on after one last downpour, heavy enough to wake me at 4:30 this morning. I was grateful that the only clouds left were wimpy, wispy white ones, barely discernible.

I'm feeling a little like those clouds and that sky these days... wimpy and washed out. Tom's feeling it, too. We've been sleeping a little later every morning, which doesn't make us feel any more rested, just more rushed. We feel tired. Blah. Overwhelmed.

Lately I feel like I'm wading in deep water - I see where I want to go, but it's such a struggle to get there. Or, you know how in a dream you try to run from something, and your legs are moving, you're trying your best, but you realize you haven't budged - you're frozen to the same spot? It's like that, too. 

Despite the rivulets, the mud, the rushing creeks and overflowing ponds around us, mentally I've slipped into a drought, all creativity dried up and blown away, and I'm not sure why. I wonder what kind of rain I need to 'green' me up again? Time would help... big chunks of time before the day has worn me thin would be the best, but I know those are scarce, and I've never really had them, so what's different now?

I thought about it as I walked down the road to the house, but couldn't come up with an answer. Just a lot of analogies. Not the same as creativity.

Belle and I walked down to the big pond for our daily photo session (Max usually just wanders back to the porch to wait for breakfast.) The breach had been patched with dirt and rocks, and the only flow came from a metal culvert. A big pile of suds still floated in our pond where the discharge slowed, and nearby, a couple of cans and plastic water bottles . Very disturbing. Reminded me of the old pollution commercials of the '60's.

But another dragonfly posed for me and a huge, beautiful yellow butterfly flew past; I wished it would stop and rest somewhere so I could snap its photo, too, but I was grateful for the sight of it, anyway, and for the paparazzi-loving dragonfly.

Today was Pop's birthday, Tom's dad. He turned 81. I didn't talk to him today - a neighbor called and before I knew it an hour and a half had gone by and it was too late, by then. But Tom called him a couple of days ago and I spoke to him, then. Does that count? I'm not sure. It doesn't feel like it.

He told us he's borderline stage 4 kidney failure and will be starting dialysis soon. I don't like hearing that, of course, and it makes me realize it's been almost a year since we've seen him and Tom's mom. That's way too long. How do we let Time sneak by us like that? It's time to plan a trip to Florida.

So that was my Thursday. How was yours?

To discover what an amazing man Pop is, read The Leader of the Pack.

 Here he is in Gruene this past November with the newest Mr. and Mrs. Tom Shallue (our nephew) and Mom... he loves having a pretty woman sit on his lap, that sly fox... and a generational photo with two sons (Kenny, #1,and Tom, #3) and grandson, Matthew.

 

10 to 12 inches of rain later...

The roar of crashing breakers on the beach. That's one of my absolute favorite sounds and, right now, it's just outside my back door. If I close my eyes and step onto my back deck, I'm instantly whisked to the balcony of a condo in Port Aransas... the sound of the waves filling the air around me... because that's exactly what our little creek sounds like at this moment, rushing down to Lake Travis.

It's still raining, but the puppies and I squeezed a walk in this morning when the clouds took a break to reload... here's what we saw...

There's a breach in the neighbor's dam in the exact same spot as last time... not a huge surprise.

Our pond is overflowing our dam, but no breach, and Tom's little bridge held again, although it's obvious the water went over it, too. Now that's an engineer, for you!

We're not sure where all the suds come from - I've sent an email asking the environmental expert. 

Okay, Hermine, you can move on now!

(For "before" photos of my little pond, click here to read "Seasons of a Tiny Pond" over at Confessions of a Photography Addict.)

Hermine who?

There's a tropical storm in my backyard. I thought it was just regular old rain when I woke up this morning and I was grateful it waited until the holiday weekend was over to get back to work.

Then I turned on the television and a woman in a slicker suit told me it was Tropical Storm Hermine. Who? I didn't even realize one was forming in the Gulf of Mexico, much less that we were on its itinerary! 

That's the problem with a holiday weekend... while you're hanging out with your kids, sitting on the porch listening to music or watching old movies, a tropical storm can sneak up on you!

According to Al Roker on the Today show, Hermine could possibly dump 10 to 12 inches of rain on the area north of San Antonio - an area we affectionately call "Austin" - in the next day or two. (Why doesn't a national news program include the capitol of Texas on its map?)

Anyway, I'm ready for the rain. It was tough to get anything done this weekend with all of that sunshine calling me. I'm not complaining, though. With the kids all here, in and out, I mostly just wanted to hang out with them, anyway.

Here it comes again, hard, loud and steady. I bet Max and Belle are snuggled in the dog house. No morning walks for us for a couple of days. Good thing we got a few in this weekend, including a successful fossil-hunting expedition.

And we had this fabulous sunset last night - a last hurrah from the sun before his vacation started (what happened to that old saying Red sky at night, sailor's delight? Obviously not true in the Texas Hill Country!)

 

To the Young Mom in Aisle 7

I passed her several times in the grocery store, the young mother, as we both weaved our way up and down the aisles. She was dressed nice - she must have gotten off work, grabbed the kids from daycare and had to hit the store before heading home.

She was tired - I could tell by the way her face and shoulders drooped. As I maneuvered my basket around hers in the cereal aisle, I could hear her thoughts as she tossed flavored rice cakes into her cart: I'm eating this crap but still can't lose any weight, and no wonder, when I don't have any time to exercise, working all day then grocery shopping and dealing with the kids...

A son, probably four, but big for his age, rode sideways in the basket seat. A daughter - cute little thing with her hair bobbed like her mom's - I guessed to be around 6 or 7. She was all smiles. Neither of the kids were whiny or bratty, from what I could tell in our brief encounters... just bubbly and full of joy, viewing this trip to the store as an adventure with their mom. They were probably happy to be with her, finally. Time goes by so quickly for adults, but for kids, a day's separation seems like forever.

I love how kids can turn everything into an adventure. I'm not sure I loved it all the time when my kids were little, though, and I don't think this mom appreciated it, either. Kids seem to suck the energy right out of you. It's proportional - they become happy and energetic while you become a crabby zombie. And your crabby-zombie-ness spreads until everyone around you is a crabby zombie.

Sure enough, she was one register over when I was checking out, and by then the little girl was in tears. Maybe I'm being too harsh on the mother - maybe the little girl, tired from school or daycare and nearing bedtime, became a brat and kept asking for something even after her mom said no a zillion times.

At first I felt relief that it wasn't me having to deal with paying for my groceries and shooshing a tired child. But then I took another look at those kids, and in their place I saw mine so many years ago and thought of all the shopping trips we'd made together... some not so fun, but some... yes, some were lots of fun. And I know I didn't appreciate that time I had with my kids that age, so innocent, so bubbly, so energetic and full of joy. 

I wanted to tell the mom to hang on, to keep it in perspective and take it a day at a time. Heck, a minute at a time, if necessary. I wanted to tell her to soak up her kids' joy and sense of adventure instead of letting them zap her energy - it's possible! - because before she knows it those two are going to be grown and she's going to be walking the aisles selecting things she thinks they'll like to eat because they're coming home to visit for a weekend.

And she'll pass a tired mom with two little ones in tow and she'll think, If I could only go back in time... there are a few days I'd like to do over, a few days when instead of spreading my crabby zombie-ness, I'd like to try soaking up their joy and wonder at the world... if only I had the chance to do some things a little differently... if only...

Something's wrong here...

Our oldest, Tommy, and his girlfriend, Kirby, came in last night. We had a fun evening - spent some time talking on the front porch... Tom fixed fajitas... Tommy mixed up some "Red-Headed Bitch" margaritas (the mix was one of Kirby's graduation gifts) that tasted a lot like cherry sno-cones... and then we watched a movie (The Men Who Stare at Goats... it was entertaining, but I'm glad I didn't pay full price at the theater to see it.)

But then today...I'm not sure how this happened, but it's a beautiful Saturday and the kids are all off tubing the San Marcos River while Tom and I are left at home puppy-sitting  and doing chores!

We made sure the pups had a fun day, anyway.

Breakfast (our grandpuppy Josie, Belle, Max)

Taking a break in the shade (Max and neighbor Haley, Belle and Josie)

Playing at the "water-park"

A tired walk home

If the time ever comes, I think we'll make good grandparents.

 

 

Friday Flounderings and Favorites

Gray skies. Gray thoughts. 

Thinking of disappointment on my walk this morning, for some reason... how people who are close to us may disappoint us - our friends, our family - but how easily and often we also disappoint them, with our words, actions, or non-actions.

The government disappoints us, like our episode with the dam and our property rights (or non-rights)... our bodies disappoint us, getting old before we're ready to slow down... time disappoints us, going too fast or too slow... and we disappoint ourselves by missing a rare opportunity when it's offered or not following our dreams or wasting time or by forgetting to show kindness to someone or a million other ways...

We're human, though. Even the government is just a bunch of humans trying to do right by everyone (or so we hope, anyway) which is ultimately impossible, so all of this is to be expected, I guess. 

Joy does not depend on sunny circumstances, good news, or happy endings.
It comes from knowing that whatever happens, God loves me;
that whatever happens, He is preparing a better place for those who love Him.
- Phil Callaway

That helps, but the gray skies still hover inside and out, even though I'm excited that I'll be seeing all of my babies this weekend. It's just one of those mornings. I trust the sun will come out soon...

In the meantime, here are my Friday Favorite Photos of the Week. My first one is technically from last week, but since I somehow skipped a Friday Favorite post, I'll share it now. 

I barely noticed this little guy on the side of our road when I was driving by one afternoon - it was before the rains came and he was covered with road dust... caliche-colored, blending in.

I stopped and put him on the floorboard, then once home, me, Tom, Belle, Max and Haley escorted him through the woods to a spot on the creek downstream from our ponds and released him into relatively deep water (safe from the puppies.)

I briefly thought of keeping him as a pet - I miss Frankie and the diversity he added to our household - but, no offense to turtles, I just don't think he could compare to Frankie in personality. Besides, Frankie chose us. I'll keep my fingers crossed we're lucky enough to be adopted again.

They're both pretty cute, aren't they? (This isn't Tom's normal smile - he was copying the turtle, but the turtle was a smart ass and ducked into his shell just before I snapped the picture.)

 

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

The second one is proof that if you just open your eyes, you'll find wonder in the world. The puppies and I were on our morning walk... I was snapping my routine daily photos of the dam (we learned we have to keep on eye on things there) and so I was filled with those gray thoughts like this morning's, when I just happened to look down. There she sat, this emerald beauty, living proof of the ultimate Artist... of his miracles and the beauty he placed in this world for us to find. Not-so-hidden treasure, if we'll only take the time to open our eyes and see it. (For more dragonfly images, click here.)

 

"But I'm too young to have a cataract!"...

"Oh, this is a 'young woman's cataract', not an 'old person's cataract'," my cute couldn't-be-out-of-his-thirties-probably-not-even-wearing-readers-yet optometrist told me during my routine eye exam yesterday, right after he dropped that "C" word on me. Not the worst "C" word, it's true, but it was still a shock.

"I've never heard of a 'young woman's cataract'." 

"Well, that's not really its name - I just made that up. I should copyright it!" He was pleased with himself. "But, it's pretty common. Really, it's not a big deal." I guess he could see I was the type to blow things out of proportion and panic.

Common, huh? I read More magazine plus several blogs that deal with women's midlife issues and I've never heard that cataracts might come visiting this early. Then again, those heart palpitations that came knocking in June (get it?) took me by surprise, too. Maybe I'm skimming over those articles and paying too much attention to the ones about hair and wrinkles. 

The good news is my cataract is teensy-tiny, too small to affect my vision (yet). It's way too early for surgery. In fact, Dr. Cute is mostly just guessing it's a cataract right now after comparing my Optomap images over the past four years. A shadow cast on my lens has doubled in size, typical of the subcapsular type he suspects. 

When my vision becomes so blurry that I feel like I'm walking through a Monet painting or a London fog, that means it's ripe and ready to be plucked out of there; if it continues growing at this same rate, for my 55th birthday, I'll be having cataract surgery!! I was hoping for a trip to Italy or Greece, but whatever. Vision is a wonderful gift, too, and as far as surgeries go, it's one of the easiest.

So what can I blame for this? There's got to be something!

Dr. Cute mentioned a few things, but I wanted something specific to blame, so I went to my friend Google for more information. Some of the culprits include: diabetes (no); high farsightedness (yes); diuretics and tranquilizers (no and no); smoking (a few weeks in 7th grade shouldn't count); pollution (I grew up on the Houston Ship Channel... 'nuff said.); heavy alcohol consumption (I wouldn't call it heavy!); lead exposure (not that I'm aware of, but then again, I grew up on the Houston Ship Channel); eating a lot of salt (no); and possibly hormone replacement therapy (no); using steroids over a long period of time, especially combining oral and inhaled steroids (yes - I've had asthma all of my life!); and finally, the two I think are really to blame... being a sun worshiper and not wearing my sunglasses like I should. Heck, I never wore sunglasses in high school. For some reason they messed with my vision or made me queasy or something. I always wear them now - I can't stand not to - but the damage was done years ago, I'm sure.

The good news is a diet high in antioxidants like I've been on for the past few years might forestall cataract development. Maybe I've slowed it down!

Ironically, August was Cataract Awareness Month. Besides wearing sunglasses and not smoking, the American Academy of Opthalmology recommends getting a baseline exam if you're over 40; younger if your family has a history of early cataracts.

So listen up, you 40-year-olds 30-year-olds 20-year-olds teenagers, start taking care of your eyes now! Don't smoke! Eat healthy, especially plenty of antioxidants!

And please, please, please learn from my mistake... wear sunglasses!