Word of advice. Don't wait until a week before Halloween to go get pumpkins. We'd forgotten (busy with life and this is NOT my favorite holiday) to the point that I thought that the little orange gourds weren't going to happen this year. Then Grandma Sharon arrived for dinner on Sunday with a plan to go to the patch! Oh the kids were so excited, especially for the free hayride out into the fields. We got there and it was super breezy, but we smiled and oohed and ahhhhed while we were lumpy bumping along the dirt path. Then farmer Paul stopped in front of a field that was wide and barren and declared his pickings slim. Well I'll say!
Trevor's pumpkin was by far the largest and for all of them, a whopping $30! OY. Thanks be to Grandma.
The husband ate my mashed potatoes on Monday. Write the day down in history, could you? Even his mother said Sunday night (as we gathered round the table that now fits all of us*), "He won't eat mashed potatoes," with a giggle. And true to his mommy, he did not. But on Monday he grabbed the wrong lunchbox and brought with him those very mashed potatoes right tucked in there beside the delicious rosemary wine roast and herbed carrots/onions/mushrooms. I sat beside him in his office over lunch on that day, as I often do. I witnessed it myself. One bite, then another. I didn't say a word, thinking he was probably being mostly polite to his wife. But then I blinked and the potatoes were G.O.N.E. Oh yes. I asked. Three times. "They're good," he said. WORKSFORME. [This seriously thrills me to no end.]
MAIZE [This is a movie reference that makes Bryon laugh every time Trevor squeaks it out. Usually happens when he's in trouble.]
I seriously cannot stop singing a song that was introduced to me at church on Sunday.
you - make- beau-ti-ful - things.... you - make - beau-ti-ful - things - out - of - the - dust
you - make- beau-ti-ful - things.... you - make - beau-ti-ful - things - out - of - US
There is a beat to the song that wraps you up and carries you right into the Lord's arms while you're signing, I swear to you. You could march to it in your soul. The whole church was trembling with the Spirit. Just amazing! So, I launched an iTunes search for this song. [Lulu, do you recognize this?]
Well, the good news is, they are no longer predicting snow by Halloween. Looks like it will be in the 60's that day. This is very exciting because it means the pinky fair pricess and her siblings will not have to wear a parka and snowboots under their costumes. You betcha!
When I am especially sleepy - like, sleepier than the husband - I like to lay in the bed and stare at him. It's become this thing I do. We both lay down and snuggle in. He watches something 'boy' on television and I am too tired to turn my head with him. So I stare straight ahead. My straight ahead = facing his face. Perfect for moi. I look at his eyelashes and at the rogue hair in his left ear that I intend to pluck out this evening. Every few minutes, he sneaks a peak sideways to see if I am sleeping yet. Then he gives me a tiny smile. I love that tiny smile. Last night, I rubbed his chest hair and stuck my finger in his left nose 6 times. Still, a tiny smile. I love that he tolerates exactly who I am. Tee hee.
So the other day we had the 3 littles in the sporting goods store. You know, the one with the taxidermied animals all over everyplace? They actually are very competitive on shoe prices as it turns out and the girls both needed tennies. After shoes we went upstairs so that Andy and Bryon could find a University of Nebraska football. Oh, Lawsie the Husker love in our house! Anyway, we came back down the escalator about 10 minutes later. Only this time, Miss Moo flipped out and froze solid. Specifically, she waited until all of the rest of us had started down the escalator to freak out. She wouldn't get on. Which I noticed when we were halfway down. There she was at the top, her frumpy curls swirly around her sweaty little face, hollering, "Mama! Mama!" So I did what any mother would do. I ignored the sensible thing of finishing my journey down the down escalator and then going right back up the up escalator again to rescue her.
Oh yes, I ignored that very sensible thing. Instead, I handed Bryon the shoe boxes, turned around, and sprinted back up the down escalator. I was suddenly grateful for all of the stairs I go up and down in my life. I was going to save her! All cool-like. I got to the top and she reached for me, balacing precariously on the edge of the first step that spits out. I measured up the space and leapt with my longish legs, planning to land right beside her and smoosh her up to me.
Except that first step that spits out keeps spitting when you pause to measure up. And my leap wasn't nearly leap enough, though thank the Lord my legs are as very long as they are because I landed sort of near her. Then I clawed my way up the continuously spitting out stairs to make it beside little Moo Moo, who was watching her Mom flop like an idiot with a very calm face.
I stood up very fast (because standing up very fast makes it seem like nothing ever happened) and was rushed by an employee of the store that had witnessed this spectacular show of grace, who needed to make sure I was not going to sue them. Right. I smiled and laughed and reassured her I was fine, and then grabbed Mabel's hand to descend the damn escalator once and for all. "It's okay," I called back to her. "Don't worry about me. My husband is right here."
Except he was nowhere to be found. He and the two middles had gotten off of the escalator and walked on toward who-knows-what and had absolutely no idea that I'd nearly died trying to save the baby. I was pissed, I'm not going to lie. Plus my left ankle smarted like mad. Oh it looks all torn up, even today, showing the perfectly linear scrape marks of the steps that spit out. @#$%^$#%@!@@#% Moral of the story? #1 - do the SENSIBLE thing when you are trying to save the baby, and #2 - Grace is my middle name. Always has been.
Someone that sits near me at work busted nasty ass today.
So here is where I confess to you that I work on Wednesday's post over the course of a few days sometimes. Sometimes I am able to think all at once but other times, I must collect. You dig? Great. So this week, between the first bit up there and the second bit which follows, someone bullied me. Again. It was not Shoes, it was not Bryon or Lulu, or any family. I cannot say who. All I can say to you friends is that I am feeling bullied in a way that is beyond anything I can compare it to. I feel hurt and alone and attacked for the very things that make me who I am. It feels worse than the end with Shoes. I am at the mercy of this person to an extent, and God has called me to turn the other cheek. But, Peeps, it. is. so. hard. This is of the devil - no doubt in my mind. Could you please pray for me? Please pray for me to remain confident and for my little light to keep shining (even when the dark is all around), and also for me to LET. IT. GO. QUICKLY and stop internalizing. Mostly, please pray for this bully - that God's grace and mercy be known to them. The end of that.
Bryon told me last night that I was weird because I sew. Nobody he's ever known could sew. However, this is one of the points he loves about me. Well okay then.
He also told me that I was weird because I make mashed potatoes weird. But he also loves this about me because now mine are his "favorite" mashed potatoes, i.e. the only mashed potatoes that will ever grace his lips again apparently. I'll take it!
Oh - the potatoes? Really? You're curious now are you? I take about 10 boiled and peeled Idaho potatoes (drained of course when they're soft) + 1 stick butter + 3/4 block of (lowfat) creamcheese + plenty of sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper + 1/4 tsp garlic powder + 1/4 C skim milk. Voila. I've tried this particular recipe with real garlic cloves or minced, and I don't like it - has to be the McCormick powder. I'm a garlic traditionalist that way. [As a child I used to stand beside my mommy and sniff the McCormick garlic powder that she used in everything. Favorite olfactory moment right there.] I'm thinking of doing this and making them twice baked with cheese sometime. We'll see.
Last night I was so upset (see bully entry above) that I did not leave the bedroom for fear of the children thinking I'd been stung in the face by a giant bug. Instead I texted with my pastor and prayed and relaxed. Bryon brought in dinner so that I could eat in peace and blow my nose when necessay. And then he fed all 4 of our children, got them bathed and brushed, and then put each one to bed. Every 15 minutes or so he would come in to check on me, ask me questions about what happened, hug me, and kiss my forehead.
Avocado at work? Yes, please. You bet I packed a whole avocado in my lunch today. Sliced it upstairs and stuck the perfectly green flesh into a coffee cup for scooping. Goes quite well with my ham and cheese sandwich. Weirdo.
We are going out on a date next weekend with some friends - a group of 15 for sushi. It will be awesome and I'm very much looking foward to it. It's time for me to be even more adventurous this time around. Maybe sake and some tuna? I don't mind a philly roll with smoked salmon, but I prefer the more mild tuna. The best roll I've ever had was at a tiny place in the town Back Where We Were From, which I had on the day of my mother's first open heart surgery. Phenomenal something-or-other specialty roll, chock full of sashimi and veggies. Some kind of magic sauce. I was in a mood that day and was grateful. Anyway, I digress...
A coworker told me that I looked nice today and that my outfit brightened up the whole department. I needed the smile and sent her a thankyou email. This is proof positive that you should always, ALWAYS say the nice thing to someone when you are thinking it. You never know how much they need to hear that joy and grace!