Resurrection...

the resurrection that is spoken of in Ephesians 1:18-20, "...his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms," is something to dwell upon and hold close in our thinking for the transformation of how we live.

Resurrecting a blog from death status of inactivity is something tremendously less. But when the thoughts in your head and the lack of writing have conspired to "dig a grave" for where all the words go, it does seem like resurrection is an apt term for what I think (notice the wavering here?) that this blog needs.

The paralyzing act of writing--having the words but also having the editor in your head residence--that keeps you from actually writing, is mentally exhausting. I started this blog in an effort to give the words an outlet. I stopped this blog because the outlet had become clogged with life that couldn't or shouldn't be blogged, with the noise of the blogosphere where if everyone has something to say then truly no one really has anything to say, with the pressure of comments and branding and clique-ish celebrity, with the question of blogging for profit or pleasure or purity of craft, and other reasons that do not deserve a remark but are real obstacles. Each one being another shovelful of dirt on the death of a blog.

So why bother with it now? Because the words are still there and I'm 45 years old and writing works wonders in my tangled head. And for now that is enough reason to resurrect a place where writing is practiced, where the editor is confronted and wrestled with, and where maybe every now and then something will unravel into the sweet spot of writing out a complete thought.

Now, if I can just remember how to update the various gadgets on this blog, ie. sidebar and so on.

So, my email was hacked....

It was a mess. I had to shut everything down. Change all the passwords. Delete the entire account And start over.

Boy, was I hacked. Really hacked. As in the meaning of the word before it meant messing with someone else's computer, passwords, internetial life.

Sheesh.

So, now I think the mess is finally cleaned up. My password is so tight that I am not sure I will remember it past the second day. I wrote an encrypted note to myself to help me remember it. But I can't remember where I put it.

When I find it, I probably won't remember my encryption.

Sheesh.

Nothing but hacked.

Computers are for geeks...

was the pronouncement of my junior year in high school. I remember our new three city combined high school boasting that they would be offering a computer class where students would learn to write code.

Several of us who were not overly excited about the combining of three local high schools into one simply thought that it was more of the administrative hype related to trying to get three separate student bodies to act as one.

Not only that, but who in their right mind wanted to stare at a boxy green screen and write computer code? Typing seemed to be the much wiser choice. You will always need to know how to type.

Fast forward fives times five plus a year reunions later (ack!) and computers have overtaken the world! Okay, not that extreme but computers are as much a part of my daily life as cleaning the kitchen. Which is a lot of my daily life. And at some point I realized that while I can operate my computer, I'm probably not utilizing all of its bells and whistles, also known as app-li-ca-tions like I could be.

The day before Black Friday, formerly known as Thanksgiving, now known as Grey Thursday, I convinced my dad to go stand in line at 5:30 a.m. at a PeachMac in Atlanta to try and buy a MacBook Air for me. I was going to be in S.C. where there wasn't a PeachMac store. He for the adventure and leverage of it agreed to be my buyer. Number twelve in line but number six for the magic ticket and voila! I was the proud new owner of a MacBook Air.

Six years previously I had made the switch from PC to Apple and knew I was not going back. Being from an all PC family though, my learning curve was disjointed and slow and full of errors. Stumbling through I depended on google and youtube to figure out several things and calls to my Mac loving friends for the rest.

With this new toy in hand, I signed up for the program that granted me 52 hours of computer instruction. Woo Hoo! A class a week so I could finally know what I was doing. So every weekend, I show up at the PeachMac with my computer in hand for one to one tutelage on the ins and outs of operating systems, software, and applications.

I'm there with the grandmas who were given iPads for Christmas by well meaning relatives who have no earthly idea how to turn the thing on let alone email or FaceTime or use a productivity app. But they know how to play solitaire, yes indeedy, they do.

Anyway, it's an eye-opening experience to have the computer tech half your age (at least) teach you how to make a movie with the video that your 14 year old shot with the camera you still don't know how to use. Humbling is only one word for it. Enlightening and energizing would be more words to use. The lesson being to me that you really are never too old to learn. I may forget some (a lot) of what he shows me, but my brain is working to acquire some new skills for 2013 which is not a bad thing.

Plus, that typing class? Well, obviously it paid off because you have to be able to type to blog.

I stopped blogging....

back in June after attending The Gospel Coalition Women's Conference. I had gone to a workshop that was directed at women interested in blogging, writing, possibly even being published. I have thought about that before. It is nearly impossible for any of us who like to think through our fingertips to not at least think about publication.

But the workshop gave me the best gift. It convinced me that while writing is enjoyable for me, it is not my passion. I do not wake up needing to write nor do I go to sleep thinking about what to write. I started blogging to finish some thoughts. But not every thought needs a finish I've discovered. Sometimes a thought just needs to be a thought and find no public outlet.

That was such a release for me from thinking that I needed to increase my blogging and get out there and develop readership and submit proposals and, and, and......

So I stopped blogging.

The break has been good and necessary. The time to think and process without the pressure to press "publish" has been a mental spa.

Why am I blogging again? Because there is no pressure to blog at all.

Sometimes motivation to do and contentment at not doing come in the same package. Aaaaah.

My sweaters are bored....

Because they have barely been let out of the house this year. With our temperatures in the mid 70's pretty often this "winter" the idea that it is winter is not being realized in the current dress code.

We had to turn the AC on the past two days! Ugh.

One time I read that God's people should not even complain about the weather because it was a complaint against His providence. I confess to regularly failing in this area. I grew up in NC where four seasons was a highlighted event.

Although I do remember one exceptional year where I wore shorts on Christmas Day and it snowed on Easter. Whatever.

Four seasons was what, is what, I have always loved. That clear demarcation from fall to winter to spring to summer. And back again.

Middle Georgia does not have a respect or affinity for four seasons it seems. Mild winters are rejoiced in around here. It is hard for me to join that party because of things like all the pests not dying off, of flowers and trees prematurely blooming only to be killed by an aberrant freeze, of a closet that never really experiences a turnover of being worn, and of allergies that work year round.

I confess covetousness of crackling fires and hot chocolate and yes, even snow. The four letter word of the South. I like fluffy sweaters, scratchy wool, and getting to wear gloves.

But those things are not my lot. Not here, not this "winter." So I will try not to complain against the providence of God in one, putting me here, and two, ordaining these temps. But I will hope for a season that lives up to its name.

Melting in Middle Georgia.....

is currently what we're doing these days. I know our area is not the only one so affected by these intense temperatures. These last days of June and the glimpse into July are not comforting. Even so, as we look for ways to manage the heat, I am thankful for the luxury of A/C.

I am proposing that shops consider a different heat modified schedule for the weather. How about being open from 6:00 a.m. until about 11:00 a.m., closed until about 4:00 p.m. and then open till about 11:00 p.m. Walking across black asphalt in the heat makes me lose all memory of what errand I'm supposed to be accomplishing once I'm in the store. Probably that standing underneath their air vents to catch my breath and the hyperventilating is to blame.

I'm also instituting a no cooking rule for summer heat survival. Working over the stove or using the oven causes too much heat buildup in the kitchen which makes the A/C work harder. Besides, not one of us wants a hot meal right now. I'm scouring recipe sites for all things cold or that require minimal heat output either in the making or eating.

So far we've come up with cold pizza, cold cereal, frozen ice cream, cold cuts on bread, lots of salads (all types)--you get the picture. We did splurge today with some awesome BLTs but the oven was on less than 15 minutes for compliance. Egg salad is tomorrow's dish. What other ideas do you have for me?

It has been so hot in fact, that our internet has been blinking out in the afternoons. Solar flares, sun spots, or maybe the cables are melting, I'm not sure but this is the first time since about 11:00 a.m. that I've been able to get online.

Days like these make me long for the mountains. So far our summer doesn't hold that promise. Sweaty contentment is mine instead.

How are you beating the heat?

A moment in peanut butter....

happened yesterday at the store.

You know that whoever you start out with in produce is who you will travel with throughout the aisles all the way until cheese and yogurt. Sometimes after a couple of rounds, usually around crackers and cereal, after witnessing the travel habits of my fellow cart pushers, I will reverse direction. Just to get out of the cycle. Literally.

Yesterday I was in route with an elderly woman and a middle aged woman. The second woman might have been the first's daughter or daughter-in-law. From the conversation they were having, from evidence of the first woman's arm being in a sling, I pictured that perhaps reduced circumstances of living had come upon the first woman.

There was a great deal of negotiating about what could be purchased, whether or not the elderly woman would eat it, the need for small steps of lifestyle change. The first woman's face showed sorrow and frustration. The second woman's manner illustrated frustration and fatigue. Facing some of my own small steps of lifestyle change and fatigue, I left the cycle. I didn't want to hear anymore that life changes are not always pleasant, but we must soldier on.

I skipped to the yogurt. But while there I realized I had forgotten the bread. I remembered the hamburger buns but had forgotten the bread. Back I go only to pass these two in front of the peanut butter debating a creamy brand that would not be too dry, that would taste good, that was not too expensive. To the bread, I told myself, stay out of it.

One pass, two passes, and dagnabbit, I had forgotten to check a price on some trail mix which happens to be across from.....the peanut butter. Where still the conversation, reaching argument status, went on about a suitable peanut butter.

I intervened.

"I'm sorry, but I overheard that the two of you are trying to find a creamy peanut butter that is not too dry and tastes good? May I recommend ________?"

Relief flooded through all of us. Them because an objective third party had an opinion that took them out of the cycle. Relief through me because now if there was blame for a wrong choice, it would not rest between them, but on me, an intervening stranger with a fixed opinion regarding creamy peanut butter.

Into the cart the choice went, the selection made, and now at least that part of the cycle was over. I passed these two a few more times before the shopping trip was over. Weary we all are at how our lives are playing out, but perhaps when that sandwich is made, when the peanut butter is spread, relief will occur again. Even if only for the eating of peanut butter.

Blueberries and birthdays....

Today I turn 43. I'm not afraid of my age. I believe age should be the crown of glory that the Lord intends for it to be. Of course, that means you had better wear it well, in His grace, and always, always, always, superintended by His Word.

My years have shown both the failures and the fruit of such a goal. When I turned 40 I told a friend that I was going to take my Mimi's admonition to say what needed to be said and drop all the pretense that binds us. Her husband hearing the remark said, "And this decision is different, how?" Apparently my reputation for saying what's on my mind preceded the turning 40 landmark.

One year while we were in the hospital with James I thought I was two years older than I really was. That's a bit scary. Husband finally corrected me when he heard me tell someone I was 27 but I was only 25. Hospital time does age you.

This morning I woke the boys up at about 7:00 and asked them if they would go pick blueberries with me. The older two said yes right away. The Chairman said, "No, thank you. I'll stay home."

But the blueberries beckoned. It was a real present to have my guys there with me picking. I love blueberries if you can't tell. We came home with 16 pounds in less than an hour. We also picked 3 lbs of blackberries, 3 lbs of squash, and were gifted 3 green tomatoes.

It's storming most of the day so it looks like it will be a great day for baking--cobblers, squash casserole, fried green tomatoes. Yummy! Happy Birthday to me.

Dear Uncle Screwtape....

I read your letters to Wormwood years ago. Years ago when I thought I understood life and temptation and the follies of self. I was so very wrong.

Now, not really understanding life and temptation and the follies of self all that much more but certainly having lived more of each of those, I am re-reading your letters. Whatever emphasis Mr. Lewis' writing had in my life the first time seems more greatly underscored this time. In bold, even.

You and Wormwood are a dastardly duo! And we, your patients, seem to do nothing but make your work easy. There is our propensity to depend upon feelings for security, our willingness to examine self for admiration and others for analytical criticism, and our serious as at work play at being and seeming spiritual---well, no wonder we are become objects desirable for consumption.

Seems that you and your fellows have a veritable feast day in and day out. My skin feels a bit crispy as I consider my own faltering faith.

But for God. Those three little words tether me to the Anchor that holds. Those three little words speak to the Covenant that is Remembered by God when I forget and wither in my circumstances. Those three little words echo of His marvelous works and wonders to be told from one generation to the other. Those three little words picture the Cross, Calvary, and an empty tomb.

So, Screwtape, for I will not call you Uncle or claim any kinship to you, I know myself to be a child of God and not for your consumption. I know myself to be warned by your tactics that Mr. Lewis has so cleverly let me read about. And this weekend when I watch the theater of this correspondence, I will not look for you as the one in red tights with a pointed tail, but as the one who lurks waiting to devour.

Feast elsewhere, Screwtape, for I am invited to the Feast of the Lamb and on Him will I feed.

Thankful it is November.....

and I don't have to write every day anymore. I privately challenged myself to write every day from the middle of October until the end of October for the sake of writing. October is a tough month for me, and I knew I wouldn't have much to say until the boom of grief had its toll, but once it did, I knew I would have lots to say.

The whole trend of 31 days of all things hit me a bit like most trends do. Namely, is this something worth the investment of my time and bandwagon jumping? Um, no, it was not for me personally. I read some of the other 31 bloggers and benefited from their words, but as far as my blogging personality goes, I have to wear the jeans that fit me best.

Which is writing when I have words, writing when I want to practice writing, and writing for the sake of completing thoughts that otherwise would ping pong around inside of my head and make me inhospitable to the other house inhabitants.

Maybe I should write more. But I buck the trends that do not fit my natural vein. Thankful Thursday though, I love. I don't know if The Upward Call or Rebecca Writes gets first gratitude on it, but my thanks to both for their examples.

My comment that I'm thankful I don't have to write every day anymore is a jest to myself. I needed the personal challenge without the public announcement. I learned about my writing as I made myself do it. Most of my posts were done without editing and editing and editing. More stream of consciousness writing and it was a liberating exercise. Turning off the critic and writing as the words flowed helped me remember why I love writing and also warned me why blogging, for me, has very specific limits.

Of course, November is the month of that Nanowrinomososhopobo thing, or something like that, which also has great intentions. I am just not sure if those are my jeans or not. In the meantime, things I'm thankful for today:

Automated funds monitoring: while sometimes the banking system gets a bad rap, and sometimes rightly so, I was thankful to get a call this morning from my bank stating they had put a hold on my debit card because of suspicious transactions. I called immediately because the children need food to find out that someone else's children apparently needed clothes. To the tune of $2,010.00 from a fancy store in Canada. I confirmed that our shopping was primarily done at Goodwill these days and not online from Canada. The number was cancelled and a new card on the way. The automated system worked on our behalf and also for the merchant who did not, thankfully, lose any merchandise.

Soup: as temperatures drop and friends send great soup recipes, we are all tummy grateful. Still.

Bible study: I'm working through Acts right now and Chap. 14 was a favorite because of its instruction to remember that strength and encouragement come from the truth that through many hard things we will walk to enter the kingdom of God (v.22). Commitment to Christ and His work requires persevering through adversity. He is worthy of any and all we might undergo in this life. He is worthy.

Family: raising teens and a tween is a challenge bar none at times but the sweetness continues to persuade me of why the investment and the struggles are so valuable.

Granola, continued....

is still a bit of a mess. Not clumping together like I want it to. I want store bought looking granola. What I've created in reality, not metaphor, is a plastic container full of bird seed reject. I don't think even the squirrels would risk a lead vitamin to go after this.

I eat it anyway in my Greek yogurt with a smear of honey. It may not look pretty but a couple of craisins will go a long way toward tastiness.

Jules is chewing my comment box for my poor metaphor. That's okay. We can not all be Gifted Ones.

However, it's not a bad comparison as to how this Monday has transpired. I mean, Tuesday. That is today, right?

See what I mean?

I could blame it on the drugs. Listen carefully. Some dietary changes I've made recently have caused a weight loss. Yeah. But my body has not quite adjusted to the "nerve pill" dosages. I love saying "nerve pill". I grew up hearing my South Georgia aunts tell each other they needed a "nerve pill" because of the "chillen" (children) driving them batty.

Still makes me giggle.

Seriously though, I'm on a real "nerve pill" to help with the after effects of having a nerve root in my spine severely compressed. While all that compression is now relieved, thank you, Mr. Doctor Neurosurgeon, that particular nerve root is still more than a bit irritated and having your leg feel like it's brushed up against an electric fence 91 times a day isn't all that pleasant. (There's a simile for you, Jules)

So I've chosen the "nerve pill" option. And my "chillen" still can drive me batty.

Like they did this morning. I think that's where this story was leading. In an Atlanta to New York through Malaysia sort of manner.

The alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. but I didn't haul any part of me out of the bed. It was cold. Instead I snuggled right down where the sun was not shining and tempted myself with another 22 minutes or so of sleep. And then for some reason Husband and I began to discuss the boys' high school transcripts. Which led to discussing college choices.

They are finishing 7th grade. Blame it on sleep deprivation. Or not getting up at 5:00 a.m. when I should have. But not the "nerve pill" this time. I hadn't had my morning dose.

Through the shower, the getting ready and the dressing of the day, the discussion continued. Inadequacies reigned, dispute arose, was quelled, feelings soothed, unity re-established, word pictures flying. You know, just the regular ole' Tuesday morning before 6:30 a.m. discussion between Husband and Wife.

And then I woke up the boys. Who didn't want to get out of bed either. Chores, breakfast, some chores redone, breakfast clean up and then getting school organized on the board and on the work table and answering math questions and explaining a science assignment and telling Son to leave the typing program alone and setting up the video and printing off maps of Scandinavia and Europe and explaining the math again.

Sheesh. Bed was looking better and better. But responsibility called although lack of focus loomed. In the garage I was greeted by the cold hard facts that leaving an interior dome light on all night will murder a battery. Guilty as charged.

Husband took me to my meeting where I kept trying to keep the train on the rails. (Look, another metaphor!)

Anyone still reading?

So, the wrap up is: my life right now is still unclumped granola. The individual pieces are good, but I want them to stick together better.

Which is why there is Wednesday, right? To try again and use more honey.

Metaphors, mwahaahaahaa.

Granola that will not clump....

is sometimes the picture of my life. Maybe I stir too often and do not allow it proper clumpifying time? The ingredients are all there. Properly. In right proportion even. Added in order. Without drama. Mostly.

Except for the occasional add in that gets tossed in. Sounded fun at the time. End results though do not show a bite size beautifully clumped granola. Instead, the tiniest pieces do not complement, but choose to annoy, sticking in my teeth like sand.

The largest pieces of pecans, almonds, and craisins stand out, glaring at me, for they do not have any morsels attached to them in sweet asymmetry. There is no crunch in a bite missing variety.

Practice, attention to details and trust that clumped granola will happen. Adjustments here, there, as needed. Counsel of other granola making friends. Research, tinkering, desire to put the pieces together rightly.

End results will occur giving a bite of satisfaction. The picture of my life will be asymmetrical, beautifully clumped together granola.

The starter pistol....

sounded off at 5:00 a.m. and I wearily dragged my bones out of bed. Downstairs was quiet except for the cats' vain hope that I would feed them an hour and a half early. They prowled around with infinite expectation. Smashed again as I ignored them.

An hour spent thinking, praying, reading and remembering. Fixing things in my mind with the end result that day after day I am shown inadequate. Taking things into my heart with the sweet gift that day after day He is more than adequate. Praying He would unite heart and mind beyond feeling, beyond the vague and plant feet into practice, hands into service.

Six a.m. seemed the right time to slip back into bed beside warm Husband. He was gone this past weekend on a fishing trip. Spoons reunited. Both of us too drowsy and too uncaring to set the alarm again.

Next waking from insistent cats and bedroom window light. I think I heard the school bus beeping at 6:35 a.m. I always feel sorry for the little girls next door. Sorrier for the Mom.

Finally, finally, finally. Time's insistence that Monday was here became too loud. Up and at'em is the rally call, but let's tread softly and tenderly with one another today is the reality.

Monday, Monday. You're here. I'm out of bed. Please be gentle with us.

The smack of the...

basketball on wet pavement interrupts my thinking. The sheer number of things to do today derails me like a train with too many cars to pull.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

Cold, whole wheat pancake smeared with Nutella to restart my thinking, to renew the second, no third, maybe even third and a half wind.

Interruptions not really, just the rhythm of living this life among boys with questions, yearning to be young men. Amongst phone calls ignored, praise the Lord for voicemail. Amongst personal disciplines of self when the tweet sounds off.

Thinking much on how life drains but the Lord renews. Experiencing such vignettes in these moments.

Life named Monday.

A blogging recap...

is not something I've ever written before because this blogging thing has been way more for my own jollies than for garnering readership. I'm always slightly bemused when I realize that someone even reads my blog. Heading into a new year of blogging though I decided to participate in Musings of a Housewife Jo-Lynne's 2010 Blog Recap Carnival to see what, if anything, I have written this year.

And there you have it.

January 2010 New Year's superstitions annoy me. My introspective perspective on what the New Year should bring whether you like black-eyed peas or not.

February 2010 There is a storm coming in life. A post about how believers must be prepared for life's trials not if but when they happen. Rebecca Writes has a 2005 post on this same topic that she recently reposted and it remains one of my favorite posts as it speaks to a right theology of Who God is and how He works in all things for His glory.

March 2010 Coupon tips and tricks are not really my specialty. An underwhelming post on how I use coupons to feed the growing boys in this house with a plea to visit the linked sites who specialize in truly how to use coupons for a real difference. I am only a padawan in this.

April 2010 Spring break was this week for us. A post of wonder and thanks at how sweet God's economy is when your economy is bleak, how full His mercy is shed upon us, and a reminder that only in Him can one truly rest.

May 2010 Bloggers are real people too and now I have proof. A post about my IRL meeting with Lora Lynn of Vitafamiliae fame at our local homeschooling convention. This was a highlight in our year as a friendship that began in stalking resulted in a live dinner with adult conversation. Bloggers' blessings you could call it.

June 2010 Oh the pressure of a status report. My ode to cool girl blogger status among the names that are. Lisa Writes started this monthly meme that helps several of us remember that not only do we have a blog that should be written at every now and then but knowing what month it is helps as well.

July 2010 July 1st, Thankful Thursday just seems particularly appropriate that the first day of a new month would begin with thankfulness. Another participation carnival of gratitude that I occasionally partake in, granted that I remember. Obviously the whole "Blogger, get thyself upon a writing schedule," has not hit me yet. This carnival is hosted by Kim of The Upward Call.

August 2010 Eating apple crisp in Nova Scotia. A post without pictorial proof of our twentieth anniversary trip to Nova Scotia. It was written on the fly and reads more like a twitter update than an actual blog post. That and this is the second post of August because the first was another status update.

September 2010 My Mimi could sew anything. Alerting you to the truth that A Complete Thought is not a domestic arts type of blog. Full disclosure is important for authenticity.

October 2010 On board tonight a new tradition is in the works. A post about how during the hectic fall activities Wednesday became a family favorite night of rest and laughter for us. Again, I chose the second post of the month rather than the first because, say it with me, "another status report".

November 2010 November of Thanksgiving has officially begun. This was the first of a month of daily gratitude posts, a carnival hosted by Rebecca Writes. The posts were an excellent daily activity for me as I considered many of God's marvelous works in my life and family.

December 2010 Happy December 1st. This is a post where I come face to face with the new reality of being a humble receiver of others' help after major back surgery. New limitations worked mightily on my perspective of what can be done in a day.

Saturday soliloquy...

and silence.

I am home alone.
The boys went with their Dad yesterday evening on an adventure.
One that did not include me.
Sigh.
Happy sigh.

The house is only full of the sound of my fan.
I love my fan.
It follows me around the house as necessary.
Kitchen, dining room, even den.
That's a true fan.

I slept in this morning because only the cats wanted breakfast.
And I could ignore them for a bit. But only a little bit.
I ate my breakfast in a silence that did not include the recounting of a Star Wars dream where he finally caught Count Dooku.
I emptied the dishwasher in a silence of only my careless clanging of the plates, and no one else's.

I worked on my Bible study in a silence that was not punctuated by the basement door opening and closing.
Now that Word is marinating in my brain.
I keep jotting down the thoughts that spring in, hoping that one thread will connect them together by Tuesday.

I went to the grocery store in a silence and did not answer any questions that started with, "Can we have....?"
So I talked to myself up and down the aisles.
A couple of people looked at me strangely.
So I just smiled. Silently.

I had a pedicure. California Raspberry is calming.
The technician said four words to me: massage? manicure? razor? $23.
The girls next to me chattered.
I read.

I watched a ridiculous movie and am now wondering why I wasted my life on such a thing.
If there had been noise, I would not have watched that movie.
Sometimes silence is not a good thing.

Silence has its place and time. Only.

Soliloquy over.

My Mimi could sew...

anything. My Aunt S. can sew anything plus. My mom worked hard at sewing some things for us. I particularly remember her laboring over sewing tiny little Barbie clothes.

However, I can not sew a stitch. And I even took a sewing class to try and learn how to sew. I made a vest, but not even a complete vest. I never finished that inside stitching, turn out and iron thingy part. I did wear the vest a couple of times. With a safety pin.

I realize that statement dates me. The vest, not the safety pin.

Friends over the years have tried to help me learn to sew. With their help, I've accomplished a couple dozen button repairs and even a couple of hems. Both my mom and and mom-in-law have given me really nice sewing kits. I stash them in a drawer for Husband. But on the whole, I choose duct tape, stitch witchery or even a staple gun to attach fabric.

I have lamented my lack of sewing skill. I have condemned myself for the lack of domestic arts. I have worried that one day a grandchild will wish her Mimi could sew and I will have no thimble to grace a finger.

I am at peace with not being able to sew. Not knowing how to sew does not preclude wearing clothes. And there is always duct tape.

About fishing...

my Granddaddy loved to fish. Fishing for Granddaddy was not complicated. It involved a cane pole and a styrofoam cup of nightcrawlers or red wigglers. Fancy lures and shiny bobbers, rods with rigs and reels were not the way to go for simple, uncomplicated fishing.

Granddaddy did have a boat for a bit. I remember that boat was decked out with the fancier gear. Maybe it was what the lake fishing called for versus the pond. I enjoyed riding in that boat, but I do not remember fishing.

Fishing was at the pond. We would go in the late afternoon. I was allowed to carry the bait, but only Granddaddy carried the poles. At the pond I would wait while he untangled the line, checked for knots, fixed the bobber and then baited the hook. Watching that worm wriggling for freedom was morbidly enthralling.

I was fearful of that hook. Just one time getting that barbed point in my index finger had taught me to respect the business end of the pole. Which is why Granddaddy's main job was baiting and taking any fish off that were caught.

The fun part was taking my fully loaded, worm baited cane pole and throwing the line into the pond as far as I could. The hardest part was the silence that had to exist while fishing. Granddaddy told me that talking scared off the fish. I think he was right because whenever I was quiet and not asking questions, we would catch fish.

Lots of fish. Brim and crappy mostly and even the occasional catfish. Each one that was big enough (it's all subjective when you're catching brim and crappy) was placed in the cooler. Because the best part was the evening fish fry. Mimi would come out to the pond with the rest of the fixings and Granddaddy would heat up the fish fryer.

My mouth would water like crazy until finally that crispy golden fish was done and I was allowed to take my first bite. The coleslaw and hushpuppies finished the meal, but nothing was like that first bite of fish.

A muddy pond, a cane pole, a wriggling nightcrawler. That is all fishing needed to be.

You know you're back....

from vacation when:

1) The laundry in the suitcase all smells like it needs washing because something in that little bag of toiletries broke open.

2) The boys' laundry all smells like it needs washing because it always needs washing.

3) The refrigerator contains green yogurt, 2 corndogs, and an indistinguishable.

4) The freezer is not empty but contains all of the bread you didn't eat before you left so you threw it into the freezer.

5) The pantry is also not quite empty but contains things that make you think cheesy shells with ranch dressing on saltines and a side of diced tomatoes just might work if you can't get to the grocery store.

6) The cats snub you.

7) You wake up in the middle of the night grateful for your Sealy Posturepedic and Tempurpedic pillow but wish these items were on vacation with you.

8) The photo digital card is full but the pictures are not yet on your computer (hence the empty visual effects).

9) The temptation to push "Mark all as read" to wipe out the 300+ posts in your reader is growing with each hour.

10) The time to keep blogging a post like this is over because the reality of home's drum beat grows louder. Or maybe that's simply the washing machine. Again.

Just thinking a status report....

is due. About now.

Disliking the intense heat and humidity of current days.

Knowing that I should be grateful for all that comes from the hand of God. Even this weather.

Sitting on the red couch with two of the three best sons. The third is on the floor in front of us stretched out.

Watching the movie Inkheart with them.

Fielding questions about special effects and movie magic.

Digesting an awesome Pizza Margherita earlier enjoyed with Husband.

Drinking nothing right now but an evening coffee will probably be brewed eventually.

Reading Renewing Your Mind: Learning How to Live and Think Biblically by James Montgomery Boice. It is an excellent study on Romans 12:1-2.

Also reading a great deal of Isaiah these days. God's judgment and restoration and promises to His people are amazing words of assurance and hope.

Thinking eagerly about what this week holds in adventure and excitement. Not to mention really low humidity and much cooler temperatures.

Packing not yet completed.

Celebrating 20 years with Husband this month.

Thanking God for all of His many good gifts--marriage, sons, friendships to name only a few.

Signing off for yet another blog break. Too much living to do this month.