Fun Friday

When I taught 1st and 2nd grades, I started a thing called "Fun Friday" in my classroomn.

"Fun Friday" basically started out as being the end of the school week, Friday afternoons, where I'd let the kids do something out of the ordinary - something more fun. Some weeks it'd be an art project. Some weeks it'd be games or centers. Some weeks it might even be a movie or a guest speaker or a special snack.

Here's the thing about Fun Friday - yeah, the kids LOVED IT!!!! It was the answer to all of the week's behavior and academic problems. Observe:

Me: "Wow, J. If you stick that pencil up your nose one more time, there will be no Fun Friday for you this week. You'll be in Mr. L.'s office writing a report about Pakistan."

(J stopped fishing with the pencil.)

Me: "Hmm, some of us haven't taken an AR test in 3 weeks. I guess those people will be reading about Pakistan this week instead of participating in Fun Friday."

(All-time high for AR tests that week)

See? Fun Friday was the answer to all of my questions. After a while, though, when more federal regulations were tacked onto teaching, more and more was required, and we could no longer use M&M's as a reward, Fun Fridays became a little more subdued - sometimes they even consisted of only 15 minutes of "Heads Down, Thumbs Up" before the 1st bus round was called. Nevertheless, we're talking about 6 and 7-year-olds, who didn't know that Fun Friday USED to involve M&M's, so that 15 minutes was usually enough to do the trick.

So, what was it about Fun Friday that made it so successful? It was a reward, of course! Something different, a little mysterious even, to look forward to. In light of that, I've decided to start Fun Fridays here, on my blog.

Each Friday, starting today, I'm going to try and bring an idea or two to you guys about something fun I'm either going to do over the weekend or something fun I've discovered that could be done. Isn't that a great idea? A little mystery to keep you coming back for more. I. AM. GENIUS, am I not?

So, this weekend is Labor Day weekend. It's a time for us to remember the labor force of our great country and celebrate capitalism.

No, I'm not even going there, except to say, I hope people still remember what capitalism is...uh, yeah...

This weekend my "fun" includes having my amazingly precious and brilliant granddaughter staying with me!! Yay!!! She is 3 and we are the best of buddies, I tell you, the best!! I can't wait to have her. Some of my plans include shopping for a new Veggie Tales movie (she knows all the words to the Veggie Tales song, people, every word!), going to Chick-Fil-A, and doing some cooking together. She loves to cook with me. I think we're going to make a cookie cake, that's one of her favorites. I think I'm also going to buy her a new kiddie apron. Hers is getting small and she insists that we both wear our apron while cooking. Yeah, it's going to be a great weekend.

Then, after church on Sunday, we're going to go back to Warren (see All in the Family.) We're going to be celebrating Father's birthday and just hanging out. Son is bringing friends, hopefully not 9, and we're going to grill (if Hubby can talk Grandpa into purchasing a real grill.)

In light of the grilling, I've decided to share my favorite steak rub recipe with you. This is a recipe I've stolen from one of Hubby's partners - it's to DIE for, people. Try it.

My take is this: have a great weekend, celebrate capitalism, be thankful for you and/or your husband's jobs, be thankful to be an American, and enjoy your family and friends - never take them for granted. See you on Monday!


Gary's Steak Rub

Begin with your favorite cut of steak - mine is the ribeye, but, you know, it's STEAK - they're all good. I also apply the following rub to each side of the meat 3-4 hours before grilling, to allow it to really sink in.

1. Dust each steak with a meat tenderizer - I use Adolph's, not sure if it's local, but wherever you live, I'm sure they have meat tenderizer

2. Apply a good covering of Tex-Joy steak seasoning (if you don't have Tex-Joy in your neck of the woods...you just need to move! You can sub any kind of steak seasoning until your house sells)

3. Apply a good covering of garlic powder

4. Dust with a little bit of white pepper

5. Dust with a little bit of red pepper

6. Dust with black pepper

7. End with a very thick layer of salt. The salt will seal the rest of the spices into the steak. Trust me, it's good!

8. Rub the spices into the steaks and get ready for your mouth to water. Plus, due to the tenderizer, your steaks should be very tender. So good!!

Are You Ready for Some...Marching Band?

Tonight is Son's first football game. Yes, I know it's only Thursday, but there was a scheduling problem, or construction on the field house, or the stars didn't align correctly...who knows for sure?

As I've said in earlier posts, Son is in the band. He plays the trombone, just like his father does, and he absolutely loves it! He's actually very good, too. He's made the All-Region band in both middle school and high school, as a Freshman, and one year he also made the All-Region orchestra. I'm so proud of him.

So, tonight I will drive with friends to the game, which is about an hour away, and begin what will hopefully be a much better season than last year.

You see, even though I am a woman, I love footbsll! I was raised on it.

I went to school through high school in a town about 30 minutes from where I live now - FOOTBALL MECCA!!! We were the Indians, purple and white, and everyone in the town was hard core. You ALWAYS wore your purple and white shirt on Fridays, you ALWAYS went to the game on Friday night, home or away, and you ALWAYS stood and sang the Fight Song every time it was played That number was usually around 317 times per game. I remember when I was in the 3rd grade, the Indians went to the State Championship game. Off we went to Dallas, wearing our purple, faces painted - it was on, Baby! I even sang the Fight Song over the CB Radio on the way to the game, (yes, I know I'm dating myself with the mention of the CB Radio.) Then, the next week, after the Indians won the State Championship, all the varsity players came to the elementary school to give autographs. Our teacher, Mrs. Dews, stood at the door and announced each player as he came through the door. At the sound of each name, all 25 of us would stand and cheer, just as if it were Peyton or Eli Manning. It was Hollywood, I tell you.

Sundays were another big football day in my home growing up. We would all go to church, eat a big lunch Mother would cook, then go sit in the living room, yelling at whichever Dallas Cowboys coach was presently making bad decisions - all except Landry, we NEVER yelled at Landry, are you kidding me? Father, Brother and I would jump up and down, high five each other, and sometimes even fall down in the middle of the floor, so overcome we were with elation, despair, or some other very intense emotion. Yes, yes.

So, as a true Tom-Boy, I grew up watching, loving and knowing all about football. I know the names of the positions and what each does. I know penalty signals and even can spot clipping or pass interference when it happens during a play. Very simply: I really do love football.

The problem now is that our high school team is, to be polite, less than spectacular. A few years ago, we "made a little run," as Father would say, and actually played 3 games in the play-offs. The town was so excited - again, painted faces, community-wide pep rallies - just like old times. Except...no, not really. The next season we managed to make the play-offs again, but this time lost in the first round. Still not bad, though. Since then, however, it's been pretty rough. Last year, Son's freshman year, we didn't win 1 game. I said we didn't WIN 1 game!

The cool thing, though, is that I love music, too! I actually hold a Bachelor of Music Education degree to prove it. Truly, music has always been that thing in my life that I could relate to, was moved by, or could express my feelings freely through. So, the fact that Son is in the Band is pretty cool. The band program at his high school is amazing. There are close to 150 kids marching this year. Wow! That makes us the largest 4A division band, at the smallest 4A division school. I've known the band director for years and the kids adore him - he is truly what motivates them to be in band and perform so well. It's a great experience.

My take is that whatever Son wants to be involved in, I want him to go for it. It could be band, sports, debate, an academic team, it doesn't matter. I want to be right there, watching, supporting, and cheering him on to be the best he can be. He's my kid.

So, our Friday night highlights may not consist of a running back breaking out and running long for a touchdown, but there will be highlights. As long as I can find Son in the band - they all look the same out there.

What's your take?

Hurricane Blurricane 2

Fast forward to 2008.

2008 started out as a great year for me. I married Hubby in March that year and taught my most favorite class ever. But, not before things got a little "turbulent."

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, around the middle of August, 2008, we had Hurricane Gustav. Although we were ordered to evacuate by the powers that be, Gustav turned out to be a dud. Maybe because of his name, who knows? Anyway, about 2 weeks later, we start hearing about Ike.

After Father's experience with Hurricane Rita, (see Hurricane Blurricane 1), he is more than willing for me to be in charge of hurricane evacuations. For Gustav, as I said earlier, we went to our daughter's house with the parental units and some friends. Basically, it was a big party and another chance to play with my grandson. So, when Ike appeared on the scene, I was the one not excited about another evacuation. We had just started school the week we evacuated for Gustav, for NOTHING, and I certainly didn't want to leave again so soon. But, as information about Ike kept coming in, we realized we'd be evacuating yet again, but with a whole different outcome.

This time we all decided to evacuate to Waco, where my uncle and aunt live. Growing up, WG had been my favorite uncle of all time. He always seemed so happy to see me and always had time to talk to me, even as a child. Hubby had never met him, and he, too, has family in the Waco area, so it seemed like a good plan.

As Ike approached landfall, it had become clear that it was going to do massive damage - both water and wind. It was going to hit land at a Category 3 and was a huge storm, mass-wise. For me, one of the hard things about hurricanes is the anticipation of the storm's landing. It's like getting a shot - you know it's coming, but you're not sure how bad it's going to hurt. Basically, you sit around watching all 20 different weather stations, tuning in to the ones who are offering the best scenario for your area and hope for the best.

On the morning after Ike hit, our neighbor, who had chosen not to evacuate, pretty much because she runs a zoo in her home, called Hubby to tell him that our house was fine! Hallelujah! Now all we had to do was wait for the officials to tell us that we could go home...but, actually, no...

About 15 minutes after our neighbor called, I was putting on my make-up when I heard Hubby answering his phone. It was our neighbor again. Hmm, I thought, that's not a good sign. It seemed that our neighbor had gone to look at our house alright, but had stood in the front yard, where all appeared fine. She missed the 90 foot pine tree that had fallen and sliced about 12 feet off the right side of our home. Yeah, minor discrepancy...

Thus, begins a very difficult time in our lives. Hubby and a good friend went home the next day to assess the damage. He called me and said that it was bad, but if Son had been in his bed, he would've been severely injured or worse, since the tree landed on his bed. The bed was in splinters. Plus, the whole side of the house was missing, making the house unlivable.

He took lots of pictures, then returned to Waco. I looked at the pictures, trying to register in my mind that I'm looking at my home. Lots of tears, but I pulled myself together and told myself I could handle this...

The first time I saw the house was a few days later when we went home to pack and meet with the man who was going to remove the tree. I tried to be so brave, but was just unprepared for what I saw. It looked like a wrecking ball had slammed into the side of our house. It was horrible! Son's room was unrecognizable. I was supposed to be packing and figuring out what I needed to take with me to my in-laws, where we would be living until our home could be repaired. However, all I could do was wander through my home, which now smelled like mold, and cry.

Then, here they came, my sisters-in-law! It felt almost like the cavalry, riding up on white horses. They helped me make decisions about what I needed to take and what I could temporarily live without (like, "No, I don't really think you should take 18 pairs of flip flops, especially if you can't wear them to work.") They gave me gentle suggestions and easy packing jobs, cutting up the whole time. And, before I knew it, our packing was done. I don't know what I would've done without them.

So, for the next 6 months, my little family lived with my in-laws. They are precious people and were so gracious to offer their home to us. We decided, since we had to remodel, we might as well update our kitchen and do some painting in other unaffected rooms while we doing the repair work. So, Hubby and I began arguing (immediately) about paint color, wall textures, and whether to have a single or double sink in the kitchen. It was a very stressful time, but somehow we survived. We were able to move back into our REMODELED home on Valentine's Day in 2009.

Here's my take: I hate hurricanes, did I mention that? Just hearing the word and approaching June 1 each year is enough to make me throw up a little bit in my mouth. But, in the words of some profound scholar somewhere, Life is hard. Yes, hard times are going to come for all of us. The trick is allowing those hard times to make you stronger...wait, I think there's a song about that...

The silver lining: I got a remodeled, updated kitchen and newly painted rooms from the situation...thanks, Ike...I think...

What's your take?

Hurricane, Blurricane 1

With the season's first real threat looming off the Gulf Coast, I figured it was time to talk about one of my favorite things, hurricanes. Except...no, not really a favorite.

I don't know which potential natural disaster you have where you live, but in these parts, we have hurricanes. I've asked more than once why can't we move to a place where there are no hurricanes? To which Hubby replies, no matter where you live, there's going to be the possibility of some kind of natural disaster there and at least with hurricanes, you have warning. OK, but for me, that also means several more days to worry.

Now, I'm 44 and have lived in this area all but about 5 years of my life. In all those years, I've only had to evacuate 3 times. One of those times, Hurricane Gustav, turned out to be nothing, just kind of a long weekend at our daughter's house with friends. The other 2 evacuations were a little more dramatic and, since we all love drama, I'll talk about those.

The first one was in 2005 with Hurricane Rita. Rita hit about 3 weeks or so after Hurricane Katrina. I was still a single mom at the time, with Son being about 8 years old. After watching in horror all the devastation from Katrina, I was packing my bags after the first weather report that said Rita could be headed our way. My father, on the other hand, wasn't so concerned.

It seemed that in HIS lifetime, he'd hardly ever evacuated and besides, "They always turn." Hmm...After MUCH, MUCH convincing, ending with "If you want to be rescued from the roof of your house by a helicopter, fine by me, but your grandson and I are leaving," he finally agreed that maybe we should go to the camp.

The camp is our family's weekend place. Normally, it takes about 1.5 hours to get there. It's inland, so we figured it'd be fine. We also invited 2 other families to go with us. After our 1.5 hour trip turned into about a 4 hour trip, we finally made it around 2:00am. We got the kids settled and finally went to sleep ourselves, safe and sound. Except...no, not really.

At around 6:00am I start getting phone calls from Ex. Ex is Son's dad. He was calling to inform me that Rita had indeed turned, just like Father had said, and was now headed more towards where we were and he thought we really needed to leave. Of course. Did I mention that at the camp there are lots and lots of large trees? Yeah, we needed to leave.

So, I jump up, wake Father up, and explain the situation. Father turns on the TV and that's where he and the other men who were with us sat for HOURS "deciding what to do." The whole time, Ex is calling asking us to come to Austin, about 4 hours away, saying he could help find places for everyone to stay, etc. I keep going to Father, who is now talking about going a little farther north for a night, then driving back to the camp, blah, blah, blah.

I decided that didn't sound too fun for me. Here I am, a single mom with 1 kid, 2 dogs, and most of everything I held dear crammed into the back of my Explorer Sport. The last thing I wanted to do was drive all over creation every day or two for the next week. I wanted to get to safety and stay there until the whole thing was over.

I decided the best thing for me to do is go to Austin. I told Mother about my plan and that I wished she and Father and the rest of the clan would come, too, saying Ex had offered his help in any way possible. But, alas, Father and the other two men were still coniving, so I left.

Yes, me, Son, and the dogs left them there, with Mother crying, and headed for Austin. By this time the roads were jammed with evacuees. Ex had mapped out a route for me, taking back roads whenever possible. One of the big problems with Rita's evacuation, was a gas shortage, so Ex told me to start looking for gas when my tank got half empty. I did, and only once did I stop at a station with no gas. We made it to Austin in only 7 hours, which was MUCH better than the 24 hour drive some would be making that day to other parts of the state. I was finally safe.

Now, back to the parental units. They had decided to wait until the next day, Thursday, the day Rita would hit, to leave and go north. By the time they left, the city officials weren't letting anyone leave the area. The storm was eminent, so my parents and our friends ended up having to go to a local high school that had been set up as a shelter. Mother's stories would have been hilarious if they had been fiction.

Once the storm hit, there was no electricity in the high school. There were about 60 people staying in the gym and it seemed that each of those people had a dog. The dogs barked during the night anytime anyone moved around. One would bark, followed by the other 59. There was also a poor lady having seizures.

I was beyond worried. Father, who gets sick when he is stressed, got a terrible throat infection. Each time I talked to him, he sounded worse. I called Brother, who lives in Wisconsin, (where there are no hurricanes) several times a day in tears. We were both trying to find hotel rooms ANYWHERE for them. It was horrible.

I think they stayed in the shelter 4 or 5 nights, then were able to travel to central Louisiana, where my mother's cousin lives. Finally.

My take is I hate hurricanes! I believe that God is in control and has a plan for all things, but it is still difficult not to worry in the face of such stressful situations. However, there is comfort in knowing that God will never leave me or forsake me. Or the parental units. Even in a shelter with no electricity.

Tune in tomorrow to read about my experience with a hurricane known as Ike.

What's your take?

The Motley Crew

Son is pretty smart.

I went to pick him up from summer band last Thursday. As he was getting into the car, I hear a knock on my window. I look up to see C-Boy, one of Son's best friends, peering into the window.

"Hey! Momma Sherra (that's what he calls me), we think it's time to have a trombone gathering in the Man-Cave," he says, with a big grin on his face. I look over at Son, also with a big grin on his face.

"OK," I say, "sounds good. We'll talk about it and figure out when."

"Great!" says C-Boy, flashing another handsome grin.

I turn to Son, who is now smirking.

"Having C-Boy do your dirty work now, huh?" I ask.

Son laughs.

I ask, "So, how many boys are we talking about?"

Son answers, "Nine, I think."

NINE? I saved myself just before running off the road and hitting a tree.

Now, the "Man-Cave," you should know, is the added-on gameroom in our home. It has no air conditioner, only a ceiling fan, old, stained carpet and most of the wall paper has been stripped off the walls with nothing replacing it. But, Son loves it and he is the envy of all his friends. It's not a huge room, but it has a love seat, game chair, Wii, XBOX, LCD TV, DVD player, ping pong table, weights. You get the picture. It's a Man-Cave.

Son has a very nice bedroom, brand new in everyway, thanks Hurricane Ike. However, most summer nights and weekend nights he chooses to even sleep in the Man-Cave. During the evenings he only ventures out of the Man-Cave to eat, use the restroom, or when forced against his will. It's his domain and he loves it.

"So, you want nine boys to spend the night," I restate, hoping it sounds less frightening this time.

"Yeah, nine boys, Mom. Remember, we've been talking about doing the trombone thing,"

"Yes, I remember. So, who all is coming?" I ask.

He lists off the nine boys, most of whom I have known for years and are very good boys.

"OK, you can do this, but I have a few conditions: First of all, I'm not feeding everyone. They all have to eat supper before they come and bring a 2-liter drink and a snack. Secondly, they all have to leave by 10:00am tomorrow morning, and third, you may not keep us up all night playing your trombones."

Son agrees and says, "We're not even gonna play our trombones. CD, plays drums anyway."

"But, I thought it was a trombone thing?" I ask.

"It is," says Son.

O.....K?

So, it's all settled. Over the next 24 hours, the texts begin.

Parent #1: "Are you really having all nine boys spend the night?"

Parent #2: "You're braver than I am. Hope you have ear plugs."

Parent #3: "God bless you."

Friday night, the boys started arriving around 7:30pm, just like clock work. All were obedient, with their backpacks, snacks and 2-liters in tow. I finished making my snacks for Son's contribution and plopped myself onto the couch for a Hallmark movie marathon (Hubby was gone on to a conference.) I was never once eisturbed.

Basically, the boys had a great time. I don't think they got any sleep, but they came inside from Hide-N-Seek in the dark at midnight, nothing got broken or messed up, and they even cleaned up after themselves! AND, a very minimal amount of noise! (No trombone OR drum playing at all.)

The next morning I work them up around nine (they were all sleeping all over the floor, not one with a blanket or pillow. Why? Don't know), and made a little breakfast for them. While I was in the dining room eating my breakfast, I listened in while they sat around the breakfast table eating. They all talked about school starting. Half of the boys were juniors and the other half were sophomores, like Son. They discussed what Pre-AP and AP classes they were taking, how to survive certain teachers and excitement over the band drill. Then, just as they arrived the night before, they all filed out around 9:30am, stopping to thank me and give me a hug.

Later, Son comes in and asks, "So, Mom, were we bad?"

I laughed and said, "No, you guys were great!" I told him how proud I was of him for his friend choices and told him he could do it again soon.

He smiled, "Thanks, Mom. For everything."

And he was off...back to the Man-Cave...

My take is this: friends are a huge part of most teenagers' lives. But friends can MAKE them or BREAK them. I always want to be "that" home, where the action is happening. Not only do I get brownie points with Son, I also know who his friends are and what everyone is up to.

After a very successful night with nine teen boys in my home, as I listened to their conversations, I realized that I am incredibly blessed that my son has friends who are respectful, smart, responsible, obedient, hard-working, and all around great kids. My hat is off to all parents who somehow figure out to raise good kids in a world where so much that is grabbing for their attention is bad.

Some people worry about the next generation. Me? Not so much!

What's your take?

My Favorite Recipes

So, I thought I'd take today's post to launch a new page on my blog. It's going to be "My Favorite Recipes." I don't know about you, but I cook a lot and, I acutally enjoy it - most of the time. And, if you're also like me, you get bored with the same recipes, over and over again, and are constantly looking for new ones. Here you go!

The first recipe is Son's favorite. According to him, this is the abssolute best thing I make and he would eat it everyday, if he could. The crazy thing is that while he says it's the best thing I make, I say it's the easiest thing I make, which is a plus.

Anyway, it's a recipe that my mom passed down to me, and I have no idea where she got it. Knowing her and what a great cook she is, she probably made it up. I don't know what the dish's real name is or if it even has a name, so I just named it after Son. Check it out, your family will probably love it!



Riley's Casserole

Ingredients:
1 cup of rice, uncooked (brown or white is fine)
2 cups of water,
1 lb. ground beef
1 can, cream of mushroom soup
1 packet, dry onion soup mix

Directions:
1. Spread uncooked rice over bottom of 9x13 cooking dish (I usually spray mine with cooking spray first. Things stick, you know.)
2. Pour the water over the rice.
3. Put beef top of rice and water, crumble in small smounts all over dish.
4. Put soup on top of beef, in small spoonfuls all over dish.
5. Sprinkle dry onion soup over top.
6. Cook at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes until bubbly.


Let me know what you think! Son recommends it with all enthusiasm! Have a great weekend. Check back on Monday for more of my take!

Modern Technology

Yesterday was the day Son and I had set aside to do some school shopping. Nothing stressful or anything. We asked my mom to come along, too.

After Son picked out a couple of shirts and a pair of shorts, (I even talked him into stripes this time! Small victory) we only had one thing left on our list: a backpack.

Now, one of Son's many charms is that he's not one of those teens who is contantly asking for something new, in the way of clothes or anything else. Don't get me wrong, he's a teenager, people. He likes clothes, (actually has very expensive taste, by the way), is very involved at church and school, cha-ching, and loves Starbucks. You get the picture. But, he is a pretty grateful kid, and seems happy with what he is. And, he has used the same backpack now for at least five years, his choice. So, this year, when he asked for a new backpack, I was perfectly happy to oblige.

Off we go to ya da, ya da office supplies store to look for a backpack, which we found pretty easily. It's classic black (if you know Son, that's no surprise), very sturdy, with lots and lots of room. My guess is that it will last through the three years of high school he has left, (Insert quiet sob here.)

By this point, I'm feeling great about the day. The only thing left on our agenda before dropping Son off at band, was to pick out his new glasses, and we had two-and-a-half hours left to do that. As we walked to the check-out counter, I smiled smugly to myself, wondering how many other moms had had it this easy.

When it was my turn at the counter, I handed the clerk the backpack and other supplies we'd picked up and took out my debit card to pay. This is where the day took a turn for the worse.

After swiping my card twice, the clerk hands it back to me, shaking her head, saying in a loud voice, "Everyone, our computer system is down. We can only accept cash payments."

The line of customers, including myself, gasp in horror. "What?" we all ask, looking at each other as if someone had just announced that the world would end in fifteen minutes. "What about a check?" I ask. "Nope," answers the clerk, "our checks are electronic, so we can't accept them, either."

Now all the groans begin. One lady even asked to speak to a manager. Oh yeah, I thought, that should help. What's the manager supposed to do, twinkle her nose like Samantha on "Bewitched?" The clerks were all scurrying around, obviously stressed. One poor lady was on the phone, apparently with their IT department, while trying to get the manager to come talk to the "I won't take no for an answer" lady. I think the manager was hiding.

So, I had enough cash to buy the school supplies, but reluctantly handed the backpack to the clerk. And, it was the only one left of its kind, of course. Now, what are we going to do, I wondered?

This experience really started me thinking. When we were preparing to go to New Zealand, we asked our friends how much cash we should bring with us for the trip. Her response was, "Not much, just a credit card. We're pretty much a cashless society over here." And, you know, so are we. Not very many years ago, the big crisis in the office supplies store would have been if people had to pay with a credit or debit card, because many people didn't have them. But now, I'd say the opposite is true. Huh.

The other thing I realized is different people react to stressful situations in very different ways. Most of us were shocked, and a little bit irritated, but just accepted it. All except for the "I want to speak to a manager" lady, who, in the end, just ended up looking kinda pathetic. Her response to the situation didn't help her make her purchase, nor did it fix the computer system. Now don't get me wrong. I've definitely been known to get upset and assertive in some situations where a mistake has been made at my expense or when I feel that I've been treated unfairly. However, some things happen that are beyond anyone's control, right? Like, computer systems going down. The whole "honey vs vinegar" comparison comes to mind...

So, here's the end of the story: I ran back into the store one last time before we left the strip center to check on the computer system. The clerk informed that the system was still down, but since the backpack cost less than $100, I could write a check and they would "run it later." Backpack purchased.

Then, this morning, I checked my bank account before going to lunch, and what do you think I found? The $80+ check for the backpack cleared, they accepted my $40+ in cash, AND the $130+ debit charge is "pending." So, basically, I was charged twice for the whole thing. Uh-huh. Of course. So I called the store and my bank and was told "We'll just have to wait and see." Yeah.

Here's my take: Technology - take it, leave it, throw it out the window, and always carry cash? I don't know...

What's your take?

Slow Starter

Today I would like to discuss a very dangerous subject: exercise.

Now, don't be scared, don't stop reading. I know this is difficult, but I just feel like we need to talk about this.

About 2 years ago, I was an exercise junkie, truly! I had started going to Zumba classes and absolutely fell in love with them! Then, a friend of mine started going to work out with me, and we added a few weight sessions and some jogging on the treadmill. We were hard core, I tell you. Nothing got in our way of exercising, we planned our entire schedules around our workouts. Sadly, today, this is not the case. What happened, you ask? Well, keep reading.

The first thing that happened was last summer arrived. You know how summer is, the first week or so, you sleep a little later, just to catch up from the school year, then one day you wake up and it's 10:00am. Not good for the exercise schedule. Then, you're in and out of town, more bangs to the exercise, and before I knew it, I hadn't exercised all summer.


Then, when September rolled around, I decided I needed a part-time job. Why, you ask? Who knows? More pocket money, I guess. And I worked 2 days a week, 9:45am - 6:30pm. Right. More holes in the exercise plan.


Now, this brings us to May, when I decided to go full-out on this writing thing, so I quit my part-time job, have written all summer, but have I exercised? Maybe twice. Now granted, we've had a great summer, as I mentioned in an earlier post, and been on a few different trips. But for the past two weeks, I've been at home. Why have I not exercised?


Another piece of this broken puzzle is that my work-out friend, one of my best friends in the whole world, has moved. Yep, she left me! Actually she and her husband have just planted a church about 40 minutes from here and I'm so excited for them, but she left me, nonetheless. So, uh, who am I supposed to go to the gym with? Who am I accountable to? Who is motivating me to go for it? Yeah, that'd be NO ONE!!!


Here's the most frustrating part: I really do enjoy exercising! I feel so much better when I'm exercising consistently, I can truly tell a big difference. I also feel like my stress level is lower. I can also eat more of what I want if I'm in a good exercise routine, and that's a big plus, can I get an "Amen!" And, I have the best intentions. I have the gym class schedule on my frig, each night I lay out work out clothes, set my alarm to get up and go, but have I been once this week? Negatory. So just what is my problem?


Here's my take: I miss my friend, number one. It's so great to have that person with you, working hard, talking, laughing together. I miss that and I really need that companionship in my life. And not just at the gym, either. Secondly, I've broken my habit and I've got to figure out a way to get motivated into creating another habit.


Hmm, what to do...maybe when Son is back at school, I will allow myself one good "cheat eating" day for every five days that I exercise. For me, food is always a great motivator. How about you? What's your take?

Video of Pain

I didn't sleep well last night. At around midnight, I was rudely awakened by a horrible Charlie horse in my right leg. Don't you just hate those? I haven't had one since I was pregnant, almost 16 years ago, but they are the absolute worst thing to have happen in the middle of the night, right? I mean, here you are, off in la-la land, when, "WHAM!" you are hit with this blinding pain and muscle spasm, going up and down your leg, seeming to last for several hours. I hate them, did I mention that? So, there I am, screaming, bouncing up and down in the bed, and rubbing my leg muscle like I'm sanding old paint from it. And just what do you suppose Hubby is doing? Anyone? Uh-huh, that would be SLEEPING! Oh, he moved around a little in the beginning, grabbing for whatever was bouncing the bed, but then went promptly back to sleep. I was overcome by his concern, know what I mean? Well, the cramping finally eased, my heart rate slowed, and I drifted back off to sleep. Then, to my dismay, I had one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had. All of my Fine Arts moms out there will love this. I was in a human video, playing Jesus. Now for those of you who don't know, a human video is like a drama with no words and props. It is set to music and tells a story, with all props made by stunts, movements and motions, facial expressions. They are really cool, my son has been in one for the past 3 years through our church. Anyway, needless to say, hopefully, Jesus is the main character in a human video, so here I was playing the main role. Why, I have no idea. Why a middle-aged woman was the best person to play Jesus in this video, I'll never know, but there I was, none the less. To make matters worse, while we were competing, I had several problems I was trying deal with. First of all, I couldn't hear the music. I guess that happens, right? Secondly, while I was trying to play my part, there were these two little girls, following me around, trying to crash the video. "Kiddie-groupies," if you will. So, while I'm trying to be the star, I'm constantly having to shoo these two away ("You two need to go sit down. Where is your mother?") And, worst of all, I was playing Jesus with gum in my mouth! A whole bunch of gum, actually. (Gasp! I know) It seems that I oouldn't find a trash can before going on, so the whole time I'm performing I'm thinking, "I can't believe I'm playing Jesus with gum in my mouth," and rolling it around in my mouth to try and make sure no one knows it's there. The dream may not have been quite as painful as the Charlie horse, but it was a close second. And if the dream would have been real, I guarantee you it would have been MORE painful for those watching or judging! So, in reality I don't foresee me playing Jesus in a human video anytime soon. Thank God. Why do we have these kind of nights, Charlie horses and strange dreams? The only thing I can think of that was different last night is that we went over to our neighbors' house to see their new bathroom and we had chocolate cream pie and decaf coffee. Could that be it? That's it, no more decaf for this girl! That's my take. What's yours?

All in the Family

So, something kinda funny happened this weekend while I was in Warren...

Yes, for those of you who don't know, besides being a man's name, Warren is also the name of a city. I mentioned in an earlier post that I live in a small town and that is true. However compared to Warren, my town looks like a true Metropolis. Warren is where both of my in-laws grew up and now they actually still have a very nice weekend home there. Both my mother-in-law and -father-in-law are in their eighties now, so my husband goes up quite frequently to help them with the upkeep of the house and land. He has very fond childhood memories of the place in Warren and loves to go, too.

So, this past weekend he was going up with his parents and asked me to go. Usually when I go there are lots of family members there, ( my husband has 4 sisters, each with grown kids and grand kids, you can do the math), so I figured this might be a nice, quiet weekend hanging out with my mother-in-law. And get some brownie points with the hubby, too.

I guess categorically, I wouldn't classify myself as the outdoorsy type. I mean, nature is beautiful and all, and I do like to play tennis, but beyond that, I can find plenty of things to entertain me indoors. My husband, on the other and, loves camping, hiking, burning things, mowing grass on tractors, you get the picture...

Anyway, off we go to Warren. Saturday morning we woke up, Father-in-law and Hubby are already out mowing and burning. Mother-in-law and I make a great breakfast, then just relax at the table afterwards, while the two men quickly get back to, yes, you guessed right, more burning and mowing. Something with the Y chromosome, I guess. About half an hour after breakfast, Hubby comes in and says, "Hey, could you help me for a minute? I need someone to drive the car for me."

Immediately, I am concerned. You see, I set the boundary with him before I left: "If I go, I am not burning, mowing, carrying sticks off so you can burn or mow, etc." so, for him to ask for help was an obvious sign of desperation. I very hesitantly say OK.

Off I go in my PJ's and flip flops, true mountain woman gear, with Hubby to "drive the car." Once safely inside the car, Hubby confesses, "I got the mower stuck in the mud on the bank of the pond, so I need you to pull me out." I almost jumped out of the car right then, but felt a little sorry for the guy, so I just took a deep breath and mumbled,  "Oh..."

Here, there are a few things you need to know: first, the "mower" is one of those zero-turn mowers, In other words, cha-ching. Secondly, I honestly would rather have my gums scraped than help Hubby with this kind of thing. Let's just say he isn't always the most patient person in these situations and I tend to get my feelings hurt. Thirdly, in order to get to the banks of the pond,  you have to drive through some dense woods, trees everywhere.

We finally drive through the national forest and I see the mower, just as he'd described, stuck near the water. Then, Hubby gets out and starts attaching a rope to the FRONT of the suburban, instead of the back, which means I'm going to have BACK it up to get the mower out. The last thing you need to know about me is that I am terrible at backing up. I have been known to have other people back my small car up for me when all I had to do was back out straight with nothing anywhere around for me to hit. Now I'm starting panic and start talking to Hubby, even though he's not around to hear me: "Are you out of your mind? The first time you yell at me, I'm out!"

He comes back to the window and says, "OK,  all you have to do is watch for my signals, and back up slowly." Uh-huh. Surprisingly enough, we were able to get the mower unstuck in a very short amount of time, with a little bit of maneuvering. And I didn't hit one tree. I'm feeling very victorious, a lot like Mario Andretti, when Hubby walks up and says, "Great, can you just stay here while I finish this area, in case I get stuck again?" WHAT?? Have you been standing too close to the fire? But, in five minutes, he gets the mower stuck again.

This time it's in a steep spot surrounded by trees. After lots of maneuvering, going backward and forward, the mower is still stuck. At this point, Father-in-law has noticed the crisis, left his fire, and come to help. He and Hubby confer, then he starts gathering sticks to put under a tire on the mower to help. More going forward and backward, no dice. Now, here comes Mother-in-law, carrying a long board. I smile and think, "How many family members does it take to get the mower out of the mud?" Finally, after even more forward and backward, the mower comes flying out of the mud. My work was done and I had still not killed a single tree. This time Hubby says, "Thanks. Why don't you ride back to the house on the golf cart with Grandma. I think I'll keep the car here for now." Great idea, I think. On the way, Grandma says, "Let's head over to Dollar General before we have to go back out there." An even BETTER idea!

Basically, my take is, even the strangest of jobs, crises, problems are handled much easier whe you're surrounded by family. What's your take?

Small Town Fashion

I owe today's post to having to mow the grass.

Normally, my 15-year-old does the mowing, but he is sick right now, the grass is still growing,  so I decided to just do it. It was just the backyard, so I threw on some old, non-matching workout clothes, tennis shoes with holes in them, grabbed my iPhone and headphones, and trudged out to the garage. After pulling the push mower out, (yes, I said "push mower"), I was irritated to find that the mower had very little gas.

Now, I had a dilemma: do I go back into the house, change into clothes that at least match  (and fit better, see yesterday's post) and cover my bed head with a cap just to drive to the gas station to get two gallons of gas, or do I go like I am and hope for the best? Well, I live in a small town and in my small town, there is a Super Wal-Mart. Remembering the "fashion" I had seen worn by people there, I decided I didn't look all that bad. So, I ventured on to the gas station.

I pulled in beside a gas pump in the HEB parking lot and immediately noticed two younger, fit looking men apparently getting gas for their boat. "Great,"  I thought, " of course." I quickly ducked out of my car, practically crawling to the pump, when I noticed the two guys looking pretty intently towards the check-out station.

I nonchalantly peeked toward the station and saw a young woman standing there, wearing short pink shorts and a pink tank top with what appeared to be some kind of fur stripes. I was just rolling my eyes, wondering why I had been concerned at all about my outfit, when I noticed the "fur stripes" on the woman's shirt appeared to be moving. That's when I realized the woman didn't have stripes on her shirt at all, she was holding a monkey! 

Yes, ladies, it was a REAL monkey. I was shocked. I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a real monkey, except at the ZOO! 

So, of course, my mind instantly fills with questions: where does a person even get a monkey these days? Who would want a monkey for a pet, they're supposed to be filthy animals? Does she always bring it with her to the gas station? If so, WHY?

So, in light of my fascinating experience, I have 2 questions for you: first, what's your take on going out in public not "put together?" Is it OK to go out and about in work-out clothes and unshowered or should we always look our best while in public?

Secondly, what's the strangest animal you've ever seen in public? 

For me, I'd have to say MOST of the time, if I'm not just zipping out or in the middle of a project, I do try to look fairly put together when going out in public.

....uh, yeah, the monkey...

That's my take, what's yours?

Hi! I'm new!

OK, so I'm new to blogging. I remember taking a workshop on it when I was teaching school a few years ago. I was on the technonlogy committee for our district and we had a session on bloggin. At the end of the workshop, I thought, "Cool...I'll never use it..." And yet, here I am! Anyway, back to the blog...I thought I had already posted, but, apparently, no...so, I will try again...if you've already read this, so sorry...

Today I'd like to discuss summer. I don't know about you, but I'm kind of ready to say good-bye to the dog days of summer. Not that summer hasn't been great - great family trip to New Zealand, sleeping in, relaxing by the pool, hanging out with friends. But, unfortunately, along with all of those wonderful things comes eating way too much fast food, not exercising consistently, and just not getting much accomplished in general. I guess I'm just feeling the need for some routine and structure back in my world. So, I sat down this week and made schedules for housework, writing, and working out...not necessarily in that order...what are your thoughts? More summer or bring on fall?