Friday Fragments

With a nod to Mrs. 4444, here we go:

1~ the tilde is my favorite new accent mark.

2~my 9 year old asked why I didn't invite all his friends to watch him be born.

3~our new family doctor is so very pretty and sweet and tall that Checkered is never again allowed to get sick.

4~I quite enjoy the show, The Closer, but is Brenda Johnson's accent true Atlantan? I think not.

5~Some of you make a mighty fine Shepherd's Pie ~ and you know who you are!

6~My 6 year old becomes my 7 year old this week-end and is having his very first birthday party. A big step for such a shy, shy guy.

7~We are having a pinata (why can't I use a tilde on that word??!!) and Checkered hopes that we will have no mishaps landing us a spot on America's Funniest Home Videos.

8~I received a note from my neighbor this week. She knew all my kids' names and that freaked me out because I didn't recognize HER name and thus, didn't know who was writing to me and was all too familiar with my family.

9~What is Pepper the puppy's attraction to dryer lint?

10~This is the first day this week that I did NOT visit Walmart. Way to go, Me!

11~My hair is looking messy these days, but I'm afraid to go to a salon because I might run into the hair stylist I am trying to leave. She scares me.

~~~~~ Don't you love tildes, too?~~~~~~~

Vintage Music

Allow me to introduce you to my guitar.



It is approximately 36 years old.

Now here is the story:

When I was 9 we moved from Massachusetts to Missouri. The move was tough on all of us, and only became worse when I was placed in a classroom with a teacher who had no business teaching. She was a screamer, an insulter, a threatener, and to add to that, I now understand that she was dying. It was absolutely the worst year of school for me.

That year guitar lessons were being offered after school, and my parents signed me up. I was given the use of my aunt's guitar and that was a problem for me. The guitar was OLD. It didn't look like anyone else's in the class and I was completely embarrassed. My wonderful parents eventually saved and bought me a brand new guitar that I loved. It was beautiful. It smelled wonderful and I spent hours holding it.

But the guitar was just a little too big for me, my fine motor skills were a little too weak, and the lessons weren't taught by the most effective guitar teacher. I made very little playing progress and I was relieved when the lessons ended and the guitar was put away for good.

But I never sold that guitar and it moved with me to Kentucky and around and about until it came to live in my current house.

A couple of weeks ago, in a rare cleaning frenzy, I pulled the guitar out, determined to donate it to the Salvation Army. But I was overcome by guilt. I thought of that horrible year and how the teacher had proclaimed me a frustration, an embarrassment, and a failure. I thought of my parents working hard as a teacher and a pastor to save their small pay to buy a guitar I wouldn't be ashamed of. I thought of all I've managed to accomplish with the Lord's grace.

And I picked up a chord chart. I picked up that guitar. I tuned it. And I began to play.

Joe Satriani I'm not, but I do know a handful of songs now and there's no more looking back.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for my guitar!

The Letter C

Our friend, Noe, is running a meme and I love memes, so here I go. Ten things I love about C:



Christian ~ because I am one by choice.

Christian ~ because he is one, too, by birth certificate.

Cell phone

Cucumber~ because I love that crunch

Caliber ~ I may tease my husband about his car, but I secretly covet it.

Chili ~ true love

Children ~

Cinnamon ~ my favorite spice

Compensation ~

Checkered ~ Need I say more?

Monday: A Wordy Explication

On Sunday night I hurt my elbow when I fell going UP the stairs.

On Monday morning, I was still pouting about my elbow when ...

Pepper the puppy went out the FRONT door for a walk - all by herself.

As I was chasing her across the front lawn (and thereby encouraging her to run even faster), I realized that 3 degrees Fahrenheit is pretty cold. I was, therefore, grateful that I had invested in a good coat from Lands' End. And ...

only slightly regretted that it was sitting in the van - without me.

And as I ran through the knee deep snow, I also recognized how fortuitous it was that my daughter had outgrown her boots and had regifted them to me. And ...

that they were keeping dry in the garage - without me.

As I called sweetly to Pepper, I was delighted that my three boys were still home to help.
One quickly retreated to the house to get some dog food. One unlocked the van and stood guard should anyone try to steal his front seat privilege. And ...

as I rounded the corner to a neighbor's house and found that her backyard is UNfenced, my heart sank. But ...

I could still see my third child standing forlornly on the ice-covered sidewalk. I could also see that he had decided it necessary to wear only ONE shoe outside during the emergency dog episode.

Hours later, while a loving Pepper slept in OUR house, I made my way to Walmart. I pulled into the Walmart gas station and pressed the $1.75 button only to see it ring up as $1.85 because I didn't use a WALMART credit card.

After that fiasco, I was meandering through the Juniors department thinking how my daughter SHOULD love me because of all the things I was putting into my cart, but I knew we would be returning it all later in the week. I also thought of my friend, C-lee. She and I always seem to shop at the same time. I was most grateful she wasn't at Walmart right then because I had not showered or much else. And ...

within FIVE minutes I heard, "Caution!! Why are we always here at the same time?"

It was okay, though, because she looked a little undone herself. I was thrilled to see her until ...

she said she had just worked out.

I drove home, unshowered, $133 lighter, and frustrated because I had forgotten bread: the one item I had gone into Walmart to get.

I sat down at the computer and looked into my bank account and ...

discovered that I had been paid AND given a two year retroactive pay raise.

And that is why I loved Monday.

A Promise Fulfilled

We bought this house in the spring of 1999. We loved the big yard, the low taxes (which have since more than doubled), the space (so nice since I was expecting baby #3 and big surprise baby #4 was yet to be made), and the fact that the house was move-in ready.  Move-in ready to us meant that there were window treatments up, landscaping in, floors in, et cetera.

We guided our 4-year-old daughter toward this room:

and suggested that she make it hers since it was so close to ours.  What we didn't tell her was that it was also already decorated in pink.  Our boy conveniently moved into the blue sailboat room and the new baby boy took up residence in the multiple hearts room.

In the following months/years, our daughter agreed that she could live with the fact that her room adjoins the main bathroom and she knows EVERYTHING that occurs in the bathoom.  She could live with the fact that the heat struggles to reach her room in the winter,  but she really hated her pink walls.  We promised her that in a short while we would redo her room.

Then, after yet again being reprimanded by the asthma doctor for allowing our asthmatic daughter to sleep in a carpeted room, we pulled the dusty carpet up and replaced it with a wood floor.

We asked her, "Aren't you thrilled with your new room?"

And she again asked about the pink wallpaper.

A while later she again asked about painting her room.  But, the baby boy in the heart room was now two walking, talking boys living in a heart room and those hearts needed to come down.  Afterall, couldn't a girl live forever in a pink, wallpapered room?

Later, it was the paneling in the family room which had to go.  Then it was part of the kitchen.  Then the living room took over a year to paint, and another year to refloor.

All the while, I told my daughter, "I will paint your room when you go to kindergarten, get out of first grade, finish brownies, agree to suffer through a season of softball, join the youth group at church, bring home just one more great report card, begin middle school, give us a thousand more hours of free babysitting,

 be nice about having to take piano lessons. And she kept her part of the bargain.

She is about to graduate from middle school as a lovely, smart, sweet, compassionate girl young woman.  And her new quilt clashes horribly with that old pink wallpaper.

So 2009 is the year and to commit to the new room project. I have stripped one little, tiny bit of unstrippable paper.  In the process, I have thought uncharitable thoughts toward the former owners who covered every wall of this house in unstrippable paper.  I have also significantly gouged the drywall.

My girl will have her walls stripped and painted before school gets out on June 10th.  Maybe even before her April birthday.

She has my word.

Friday Funnies

I loved Laura's idea last Friday to post something funny.  So, here's an email I received:


And then the fight started....






My wife and I are watching "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" while we were in bed. I turned to her and said, "Do you want to have sex?"

"No," she answered.

I then said, "Is that your final answer?"

She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying, "Yes."

So I said, "Then I'd like to phone a friend."

And then the fight started...



****



A woman is standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror. She is not happy with what she sees and says to her husband, "I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment."

The husband replies, "Your eyesight's darn near perfect."

And then the fight started.....

****





Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour. The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.

I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed.. I cuddled up to my wife's back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, "The weather out there is terrible."

My loving wife of 10 years replied, "Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?"

And that's how the fight started ...

****





My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table. My wife asked, "Do you know her?"

"Yes," I sighed, "She's my old girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear she hasn't been sober since."

"My God!" says my wife, "Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?"

And then the fight started.....



****

I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first. "I'll have the strip steak, medium rare, please."

He said, "Aren't you worried about the mad cow?"

"Nah, she can order for herself."

And then the fight started.....

Goof is my Middle Name

When I first began teaching, my teacher mom gave me advice I still use. She suggested that the first few weeks of class, I should walk into class swiftly and speak with authority. I did just that last night since this is the first week of our new semester. I was polite yet very much the authority. I smiled only slightly and immediately announced that we needed to get to work. The students were absolutely silent and some looked absolutely stricken with panic.

Then I reached to get my materials out of my backpack. What a major goof I was about to discover. The backpack I had carried to work and into my class wasn't mine. It belonged to my 6 year old.

I rooted around in the backpack hoping for something to use. I found:

• gloves:

• pencils and eraser:

Worksheets should I need to fill class time:

And some 1st grade literature:

Suffice it to say, the semester started with a pretty good laugh between professor and students.