Walk, America!

I filled my car up with gas today. The little window asked me if I wanted a copy of the receipt. It took me a second to decide as I am an avid scrapbook junkie and was thinking about saving it as a memento. One day in the future, I'll either laugh or cry at what prices USED to be. Can you imagine it getting any worse? It could.

Looking back at some old photos the other day, I saw a picture of an old-fashioned gas pump with a hard-working but happy gentleman next to it. True, he "worked hard for the money" honey, but the photo revealed the price for liquid gold back then and it was only a whopping 27 cents per gallon! I wish I had a copy of that receipt.

My daughter asked me what was wrong when I walked in the door today and I showed her my receipt for $93.14 after I had filled up my fuel efficient mini-van. That might last a week. Only then was she able to justify the mood I was in.

I announced we were going to be taking more walks from now on. If you think about it, I bet you could think of at least two places to walk instead of taking the car. My list includes

Blockbuster, CVS, the bank, and even my doctors office. Granted, I will not always be walking, but when I can, I WILL. It's my way of

getting back at somebody for this madness. (I'm not really sure who's to blame or where to aim my anger.) Besides, who couldn't

use the exercise.

SO, GET OUT OF YOUR CARS AND WALK, AMERICA!

Maybe I'll start a new movement.

What do you think?

Do the Math

A few nights ago, my husband woke up around 3:00 Am for no apparent reason. He lay there awhile wondering what he should do next. I've been there myself and it feels as though someone's decided to set off an imaginary alarm clock in my head. I toss a bit, then turn, trying not to disturb anyone. After facing my sleepless denial, I am likely to get up and clean or even work on a project.

I asked my husband what he did during his awake time. He said his mind started going down a list all the near-misses in his life; the really stupid decisions he made as well as risks he had taken, imagining what should have happened. When we're young, consequences don't seem as up-close and personal as they are when maturity knocks on our door. He could not understand his survival rate in comparison to the situations that nearly took his life, nor the reason for the grace that came his way. After reviewing his extensive list, he said he fell peacefully asleep.

I've heard drinking warm milk or cocoa helps insomnia, but then so does a dose of NyQuil PM. One of my favorite movies, "White Christmas," has a scene in which Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney discover they both have trouble sleeping. Bing suggests a glass of buttermilk along with a liverwurst sandwich. That sounds to me like trouble, not a treatment. Then they segue into what I consider to be one of the most beautiful songs in the movie. The lyrics go like this:

Count You Blessings
Irving Berlin
(from the 1954 movie "White Christmas")

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

If you think of all the times you were spared, about every close call, and each near-miss, you'll agree, you shouldn't be reading this blog. But God has decided your divine purpose is greater than what you've survived by the skin of your teeth. Psalm 89:13 says, "You (Lord) have a mighty arm; Strong is Your hand, and high is Your right hand."

When you count your blessings and do the math; you'll realize you are exponentially blessed!

I Hate Sticky!

I am convinced that sticky is a curse from the devil. They say hell will be hot but I bet it will be sticky too. It follows you everywhere; if you touch anything, it transfers, leaving a residue to haunt you. Big or small, sticky s#%ks.

Not only is sticky a nuisance on it's own, misery loves company. I forgot to clean up in one spot and the next thing I knew, the sugar ants had not only invited themselves to an all-you-can-eat buffet but invited their friends as well. I am so sick of this!

It's not just sugary messes either. There's spilled glue, duct tape scum and sticker sticky. I went out to dinner tonight and the door handle to the bathroom was tacky sticky. It's everywhere!

So, the other day I came home with a case of ant traps and a cart full of cleaning supplies from the local home store. I think the lady at the checkout thought I had OCD. On the contrary, I have a battle plan and I intend to win. With my traps set and my magic eraser sponges in hand, all I can say is...

...look out sticky, here I come!

A Three Hour Tour

So Long, Sweet Civilization!

Our family had a fabulous time camping this weekend, tubing down a 73 degree, spring-fed river. We all love snorkeling so we were out of our tubes more than we were in them. The park is called Ichetucknee Springs State Park and I highly recommend you visit if ever in the area. There are several options as far as the length of your journey. We had all day so we chose the three hour trip and started in at the headwater. With nothing else to do but daydream and enjoy the surroundings, I had time for a little rear-view reflecting.

Do any of you remember the 60's sitcom "Gilligan's Island?" I hurried home from school just to get in my best TV watching position, making sure all my after school chores were done so that my mother didn't even consider calling my name during that half hour of my life.

The show focused around the adventures of seven stranded castaways and their attempt to survive. They were shipwrecked on an uncharted desert island hoping to escape.

I don't know why the shows fans loved it so much as each episode went the same way... visitors unexpectedly came to the island, the castaways did everything imaginable to earn or bribe their way to a rescue, and then Gilligan would always screw something up in the last five minutes of the show so that they were stuck there until we could revisit them again the next week.

Those who watched were dedicated. We talked about it the following day at school. Life would be so good if only they got off that blasted island! But then why would we watch? I finally figured out that it was a ploy to control my life. (At my age, my mom didn't have the nerve to let me in on the advertiser's little secret.) I must have watched all 98 episodes. When the sponsors finally decided to call the show quits, they made three movie sequels which rescued them and brought them back to civilization.

As in the words to the theme song, " No phone, no lights, no motor cars; not a single luxury. Like Robinson Crusoe; as primitive as can be," I use to wonder what that kind of existence would really be like. Presently, it would mean no cell phone, email, blog, TV and certainly no Nintendo for the kids. Wow!

That pretty much describes our weekend and we didn't miss any of it. Days were spent hugged by the shores of a pristine aquifer that never ceased releasing waters from it's source, the Blue Hole Spring. Nights consisted of smoky fires, S'mores and endless rounds of hide-n-seek with kids from surrounding campsites. None of our cellphones had a signal and I also forgot to charge the DVD player before leaving so we played "Spoons" every night with the kids. The weekend ended by exchanging addresses with new found friends.

Although we weren't stranded like the castaways, we truly enjoyed our primitive weekend. The stale ice cream sandwich from the corner store freezer tasted better, washing dishes on my picnic table was much more pleasant than filling the dishwasher, the coffee was tastier in a blue speckled enamelware cup, and the foam mattress felt even more comfortable than my Sealy Posturepedic!

That's Campin'

I Feel the Urge

My labor was coming to an end, with its normal twists and turns. This baby was an answer to numerous private prayers to the Lord, asking Him to somehow bless me with another child to love. After many hours of concentrated breathing efforts, I began to feel a new sensation. It was strong and with it I experienced a fresh “wind in my sails.” I felt the urge to push.

My years as a home schooling Mom are far from over as I still have several in the nest that need training. I never could have imagined when I was young that I would be taking on the role of being my children’s educator. When that idea was first presented to me (unusually by my first child), I laughed thinking surely, I am entirely too inadequate. But my children have defied that reasoning, assuring me almost daily with a 100% approval rating saying, “I am the best teacher ever!”

It all started one morning parked outside the private school I had my son enrolled in. He and I were trying to let go of the hold we had on each other when we both heard the bell ring from my parked car next to the building. That meant another trip to the office for me and another tardy slip for him. Our excuse? We didn’t want to say goodbye. We felt that same way the night before he got married.

While some have enjoyed teaching their children to read, I can think of one child in particular who I could compare it to pulling eye teeth. She refused to sit still, much less show any kind of enjoyment over “couch time.” This one would rather be climbing a tree than sit with me for a few moments of cuddle time and a book. Somehow we got through those years and she is not illiterate. Her favorite book is by far the Song of Solomon. She reads it with incredible insight and her comprehension level is over the top.

I pray for tons of stamina and creativity as I continue on my journey. My 11 year old student takes me by surprise with his long, tender hugs. That’s not something every middle school teacher can brag about. Just when I feel like giving up, he seems to know exactly what I need. When others are counting the days to get away from their students on a “break,” I can honestly say, this child helps me appreciate my role as his teacher.

God knew what He was doing when I was told in my forties that I was pregnant. He knew that this little one would keep my life full and add to it daily with interest. She is the expression of joy and has a very keen sense of observation. I know I am suppose to be watching out for her but expect that she will in fact, be watching out for me. I didn’t understand the spacing between my children for years, but as the nest begins to empty, I see God’s grace and mercy through her toward me as a mother. I was never meant to be without one to teach.

My second child has now graduated and it's time for her to fly. She leaves in a week to a place that is halfway between my heart and the Pacific Ocean. I look back on our years together as child/parent, student/teacher, mother/daughter, and I can truly say I have no regrets. Together, we have finished the race. I am excited for all that God has planned for her. That’s not to say I won’t cry when she is 1,200 miles away. But we have a true friendship that’s stood the test of time and God has rewarded me with the ability to set her free. So now, once again, I feel the urge to push. It comes after a long, but good labor of love.