Dinner's in the mail

The bad timing of our first Hello Fresh delivery was not their fault. Who would have known almost a month ago when I scheduled it that there would be seven people in the house, instead of the two that I ordered meals for, and that five of them would be throwing up?

There are currently a number of companies offering delivery of ingredients and instructions for meals. They offer a variety of options for number and type of meal.  I thought that this might be helpful in my quest to learn to cook for two. After looking at several and comparing menus, cost, delivery options, and reviews, I decided to try Hello Fresh.

Each week I have a choice of six possible entrees. I have opted for Thursday delivery, since my husband is out of town during the week. I need to decide what I want in the next week's box, or pause delivery, by Saturday night.

I spite of the bad timing, I was excited to see what was in my box.

The box was nicely organized, with the ingredients for each meal in a separate smaller box, and the meat alone in the bottom of the box. Everything looked very attractive.

I'll report back after we get to try the food. Everything looked very nice, and the produce was in good shape. Although my report may not come until I get my next box. I don't think that the tummies here are ready for these recipes, so we'll just use up the ingredients elsewhere, for the most part. (It's all pretty normal stuff, which makes that easier.)

By the way, if you use the link above, and decide to try Hello Fresh, you will get $40 off your first box, and I will get $20 off of my next one. Everyone wins!

Joining the bullet (journal) train

Several months ago my daughter started talking abut her bullet journal. I did some cursory  investigating and decided it was not for me.

Since then, I've seen more people talking about it. I've read blogs beyond the bullet journal basics that I originally saw. I've come to the conclusion that the flexibility of it may be exactly what I need, and what is always lacking in the planners I buy.

So I ordered this.

It's a Leuchtturm 1917. I chose it because of the dot grid inside. I have always liked to use graph paper, and this is like the best combination of graph paper and a blank page.

As you can see here, I went off track on the first line I drew. I had to get over the fear of making mistakes quickly!

I like the concept of a future log. I think this should be a good amount of room. If not, part of the appeal for me was how elastic this concept is. The later months are all on one page, with a blank page next to them for notes or things that need to be noted for 2018.

I decided to do my month on the page sideways. I don't think I need the two pages, but if I decide I do, that can change next month. I have space for notes about the month, plus room for a tracker for habits that I want to develop. Birthdays are going to go in the space below the calendar.

I am planning a page for each day. Again, this can be adjusted, depending on how much space I need. Right now I don't have a page for each week. That, too, can always change, if I decide I need it. The washi tape is also serving as a tab on my page for recommendations.

The recommendations page will also help me with another goal of mine, which is to look at my phone less.

So, this is what I'm trying. I think it will last longer than most of my planners do. I look forward to using it, and I'll be sure to report back.

A little change of plans

Last night I had an almost completely sleepless night of worry about the when, how, and how much of the kitchen project.

I was worried about how busy our fall is and how we weren't going to have time to get things done.

I was worried about how the timing of everything was going to make our vacation stressful, make my fall scrapbooking retreats stressful, make everything stressful.

I was worried about the outflow of money for the kitchen and vacation coinciding, and causing more stress.

I was worried that being in a hurry was going to make the project cost more than it would otherwise.

So I decided to give us a break. We aren't going to do the bulk of the kitchen until early spring. We are going to enjoy our busy fall. We are going to enjoy the church dinners, weddings, family get-togethers, and even a little motorcycle trip. I will be able to focus the needed time on preparations for my fall scrapping frenzy. I will be able to prepare for our long-awaited anniversary trip and come home to a house that isn't all torn up. (Because there isn't much worse than returning from a vacation to a mess.)

I might even have the opportunity to make some money, allowing me to have more of what I want in my kitchen.

We are going to go ahead and take out the ceiling, move the door, and continue with the electrical work that Colin has been doing. Then, in late-winter or so, we'll order the cabinets and get ready for the big job.

I feel so much better.

Funerals: The good stuff

We have had a lot of funerals at church in the past eighteen months. We've had three since Easter, with one more coming soon. So many of our dear saints who lived full, active lives into their 80s and 90s have left us, and it has left a hole.

I am in charge of the funeral dinners at church, but I have always gone to the funerals anyway. In our earlier years at Redeemer, I went to most of them because I was taking sons to acolyte and it didn't make sense to drive back home. Over time, as I got to know the people, I just wanted to be there.

At the last couple of funerals, as I looked around the sanctuary and noticed how few congregation members were there, I started thinking about the place of funerals. (This has been part of a much broader musing on relationships within the church, the whole idea of a church family, etc., that will be making appearances here and in my presentation at the Family Retreat this summer, but I digress.)

I've been thinking about why people don't go and why I wish they would.

Funerals are never convenient. Believe me, the pastors and church secretary know this. People are busy and don't want to take time out of a Monday morning or Saturday afternoon to go to a funeral. Moms don't want to bring their kids, or aren't sure they belong. People say that they didn't really know the deceased. Because we fight so hard to avoid thinking about death, we are really uncomfortable with those who are dealing with it up close and personal.

But death is real. Avoiding thinking about it doesn't make it go away, and I think there is a lot of value in pausing to acknowledge it. My job forces me to: Putting together the funeral bulletin. Marking someone as "Removed by Death" in the software. Putting together their obituary for the bulletin. Each of these takes precedent over other more routine tasks, because death comes when it comes, no matter how busy we all are with our lives.

And so do funerals. And you should go, if you can. There are so many good reasons that it's hard to know where to start.

First, if your pastor is doing his job, you're going to get the good stuff at a funeral. The real stuff. The life-giving Gospel. If you come to a funeral at Redeemer, you are going to hear sermons that are among the pastors' best.

You will sing hymns and responses. I admit to a selfish thought here. This will mean that there are more people singing. The acolytes, Pastors, and I sometimes are reminiscent of a very small and thinly-spread choir. But singing hymns together, feeling the tears as you sing "I KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVES," this is a good thing. And it's a witness to the families who are all too often not church people that this is real, and important, and not just to blue-haired old ladies, but to middle-aged men, and moms, and kids, too.

It means a huge amount to people to have their loss acknowledged. Huge.

It is good for your kids. My tears at the last funeral were brought on by thinking about what an incredible gift acolyting at funerals has been to my sons. They know death is real. Over the last 13 years, they've acolyted for the funerals of the elderly and the young. They've acolyted for those they've barely known and for those they've loved. They've learned to control their emotions while they serve. They have spent extra time with Pastor on the way too and from funerals. They've gotten to know and serve our members in another way. And they've heard all those devil-kicking sermons.

And people have loved having them there. I have received so many words of appreciation for their presence. Being there for each other is an important part of this church family thing. Really. Even for the people who only come to Sunday services. They appreciate the presence of their church family at the time of death. I know this because they tell me.

Death isn't something to hide from our children. How much better that they get used to the idea and practice saying goodbye to the elderly lady that always sat in the back pew, or the man with the hair growing out of his ears, so that grandma's funeral isn't their first? How wonderful it is to hear their young voices joining in the prayers and the singing, because they are part of the church family.

As I said, this is part of some larger thoughts that will be showing up over the next couple of months. I know there was a post shared by some of my friends last week that had to do with funerals that I didn't read because I didn't want to get my thoughts muddled before I had a chance to write this, so I think I'll seek that out now.

Things you never saw being a part of your life

Sometimes life takes us in directions we didn't expect to go. Definitely the most profound and life-changing of those for me was getting married at 20 and having my first child at 21. I wasn't planning on kids. Certainly not at 21. And definitely not many!

And no way was I going to be a stay-at-home mom.

Well, things changed. Four kids. HOMESCHOOLING stay-at-home- mom. And the only changes I would make if I could go back, would be to enjoy it more and not to have been so worried about doing something more. (You know, to really "contribute" to the family. To "use my brains." Et cetera. Ad nauseum.)

So that was good. But that's not what this post is about.

There are some things that you REALLY don't expect to be part of your life. Things you wouldn't choose, but don't have much control over. Sometimes your husband has a heart attack, and survives, but seems to have lost his mind a little bit.

THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN.

I love these ladies. But the vest? Not so much.

I haven't been on it yet, but that is apparently part of the deal. But so much not part of the plan.

Taking control

The realization came to me slowly over the last couple of months; I've been just letting life happen. I had totally lost control of everything: my house, the way that I was eating, my activity level, but especially the way that I was spending my time.

I was a wreck. Physically mentally and emotionally. I was spending hours each night binge-watching crap TV shows on Netflix, instead of just the occasional cooking show while I worked in the kitchen. As a result I was reading and writing less. I was eating too much of the wrong stuff. Drinking too much wine. Looking around at the chaos in my house and hating it, but not doing anything about it, because I was so busy.

Yeah, I have been busy. Kind of. But not really. I'm tired at night after busy days, but vegging with bad TV isn't the answer. Vegging with bad TV won't bring my husband home from Illinois, my friends back from the ends of the earth, my Wicked back from the grave, or my children back to the nest.

What finally woke me up was the return of an inflammatory eye condition that has damaged the vision in my left eye. I had been feeling my high inflammation level for over a month, and just wasn't taking action. I was in constant pain, so I was inactive, which definitely isn't the answer. I have lived with a certain level of pain for 20 years, but this was at another level. The treatment for this condition is a course of Prednisone. I have been dreading the treatment almost as much as the return of the problem, because the drug really makes me miserable.

I decided that it was time to get back in control. I have gone back to eating well-balanced, veggie-filled meals. I am taking the vitamins and supplements that have helped me so much in the past. I am getting on top of my house, a little at a time, killing two birds with one stone by doing constant physical work during the six-eight hours a day that the medication side effects are the worst. I am listening to my pastors' sermons or to music while I clean instead of so many political podcasts. (Not totally giving them up, but not dwelling on it so much.)

I am reading more. I am writing again. I am doing my genealogy research. I am walking. I feel awake for the first time in a while.

Over the next couple of weeks I am going to be moving all of my blogs and consolidating them on a WordPress site. I am back to work on the book that several of you have been after me to write, and that I've had bits of written for years. I have plans for my house.

And I'm staying away from the crap TV.

Trying to regain lost ground

I have always been in decent shape. I've never been a great athlete, but I've always been relatively strong, have had good stamina, and worked hard to stay flexible. And I've always enjoyed moving, whether walking, playing tennis, swimming, or dancing.

But the last few years have really taken their toll. I was rear-ended at a low speed, which really fired up my existing neck problems. Then I totaled a car. Then I was hit in the lower back by a motorized grocery cart. (!!!) Then I was in another car when it was totaled and cracked a rib. Then I had carpal tunnel surgery and a couple of falls. So I have had several year s of low activity.

The fact that all of this happened as I moved toward and past fifty probably didn't help.

I have lost a lot of fitness ground the past few years, and I've decided that I need to start getting some of it back. Because I already have arthritis and quite a bit of chronic pain from an old neck injury and my ankle reconstruction, anything too vigorous is out, but I've been walking daily, spending quite a bit of time in my pool,  and now after a couple of massages to help out with some of the worst pain and stiffness, I am getting ready to start a yoga class.

I don't want to be weak. Or stiff. I will definitely be in pain, no matter what I do, so I'd rather be hurting while I'm moving, instead of sitting still.

The measure of a life

Teaching me to tie a tie. 1983

So. I lost my step-dad last Friday.

People who don't know me or our family well assume that means that my mom's husband, who was not my father, died and that while I'm sad, it's not--as someone said to me--my father that died.

No. It's not. It's far, far worse.

I know this, because 11 years ago my father, the man who was biologically responsible for my life, and with whom we lived for the first 16 years of that life, did die. And it was hard. It was hard for me to have to give up months of my life caring for someone who had hurt me--and my precious mother-- badly, repeatedly. It was hard for me to care about his eternal well-being, and the fact that that was was hard hurt me, too. But, I wasn't sad that he was gone. I was, to tell the truth, relieved. He could do nothing else to hurt me. He couldn't hurt my children, my brother, my nieces, or my cousins.

But this. This is a searing pain.

John Ronald Harris came into our lives sometime around my 18th birthday, give or take a few months. He was good to my mother and made her happy. He was nice to me and to my friends. As the months, and then years went by he became part of the fabric of our lives. He gave advice, whether I wanted it or not. He teased, but without the cruelty that I was used to.

There was no struggle for me to accept him in our lives. He had that relatively easy, because we all were love-starved. It took me longer to really trust him, but that did come after a few years. As I struggled through my early college years, he was there, supportive for my mother and I both, and treating me as though I was his child, even--when I was having problems--upset about someone messing with "one of his kids."

So when he and mom got married, just less than a year after Colin and I did, I was delighted. I was happy for my mom. I was happy for us. (At that point I didn't know his kids well, but they seemed nice enough.)

That was over 28 years ago. In those 28 years, he paid for the college education that my father was supposed to have helped with. He watched my three year old daughter when she had the chicken pox, so that I wouldn't miss class. He put up with having the kids and me in his house for weeks at a time during various moves. He gave advice, whether I wanted it or not.

And we all grew to love him. Tremendously.

He was generous. One of the most generous people I have ever known. We enjoyed wonderful vacations with my step-siblings that we could never have afforded if he hadn't helped to offset everyone's costs. He gave low interest loans for home down-payments. He was always helping someone out. Many years ago, he and my mom requested that in lieu of Christmas gifts for them we make charitable donations. That is how he was.

And with him we got a, big wonderful family. I got to know his mother well enough that I mourned her passing. I got older brothers and two sisters, and over the years they have brought a richness of in-laws and nephews. We got Godsons and all kinds of other interesting family connections. Most of all, we got a whole bunch of people to love. Brad, Susan, Curt and Brenda shared their father with us unstintingly, and for that I am forever grateful.

Most of the family at Patrick & Emma's wedding, May 30, 2015.

To my children, he was "Grandpa Ron" when they were little, changing to "Grandfather Dear" as they got older. It was an incredibly special relationship, and he always treated my children and my brother's girls exactly the same as he did his grandchildren-by-blood. One of the wonderful gifts God has given us in these last months was to have Wicked (explanation here) present at two of my sons' weddings in May.

Over the last several years he showed us all a wonderful example of courage and faith. As his body got weaker, he kept fighting, and kept living. Instead of getting crabby and bitter, as people so often do when they are wracked with pain and know that death is nearing, he got sweeter and more concerned about all of us. He was sure in his faith, and knew his eternal destination, as did all of us.

I will miss his presence. His bad jokes. The hard time he gave me when I would call on the phone. His many, many emails. And all of the advice, whether I wanted it or not.

I am thankful for the memories. I am thankful for all that he did for my mom, my brother, and for me. I am thankful that my kids had such an awesome grandpa, and that my husband had a father-in-law he could love and respect. I am thankful that he leaves our whole big, wonderful family with so many memories to cherish, that will bring much laughter--and some tears--in the years to come.


The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
So hard to earn so easily burned
In the fullness of time,
A garden to nurture and protect
(It's a measure of a life)

The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect,
The way you live, the gifts that you give
In the fullness of time,
It's the only return that you expect
The future disappears into memory
With only a moment between.
Forever dwells in that moment,
Hope is what remains to be seen.
The Garden-RUSH

Big happenings

I haven't posted for a while, but not because nothing has been happening. Quite the contrary, the last five months have been quite eventful.

My middle son became engaged to a fine young woman, whose family we have known for over ten years. And there was much rejoicing.

I had a long visit from the daughter and grandkids, and then spent over a week with them in Tucson.

The baby son started college.

And on that very same day, my husband had a heart attack. It could have been really, really bad, but thanks to fast action by him and by the doctors who cared for him, he is doing very well.

Most recently, my oldest son became engaged to a fine young woman, whose family we have known for over ten years. (She is, literally, the girl next door.) There was, again, much rejoicing.

I spent my summer having fun. I enjoyed my family, my friends, and my pool. We had almost constant house guests.  But in the back of my mind the whole time was the nagging thought, "Fall is coming. What are you going to be doing?" No more kids to homeschool or drive from one place to another. So I decided that it was time to move forward with a business that I had been researching and thinking about for six or seven years.

I started taking some steps. I researched the availability of my chosen business name, reserved it with the Secretary of State, and purchased a couple of domain names. I started talking about a website and making lots of lists. I was planning to launch my business in early October, but I decided while I was in Tucson to put it off by about a month so that I could try to get my house and life under control after our busy summer.

Then the heart attack.

I didn't realize until last week how badly that messed with my head. It really sent me into a tailspin. I decided that there was just NO WAY that I could start a business. Messy house. Medical bills. Too much to do. I spent most of two months cleaning, cooking, and doing laundry. I have never in my life spent so much time in my house or in my kitchen. And at the end of two months, I'm not much beyond where I started. It's still in worse shape than it's ever been. I've been trying to convince myself that by staying home I can keep a nicer house and economize in lots of little ways.

Except for one problem: That's not me.

I have always thrived when I am busy. Really busy. With lots of places to go and people to talk to. My house stays cleaner when I have two hours a week to clean it than when I have twenty. (Plus, if I make enough money, I can pay someone else to do it and then two of us will be happy!)

And yes, there are medical bills. And tuition. And rent and a mortgage and car repairs. And, oh, by the way, two weddings next summer. So, maybe I should think about making some money.

All of the sudden last week, I came out of the fog that I had been walking around in. I knew that it was time to get busy and move forward with my business. We need the money. I need the outlet. Our current financial situation is making the start-up very much of a shoe-string endeavor. I am spending money on nothing that isn't absolutely vital to starting and running the business.

My biggest still-extant issues are getting a website up and running and securing insurance.Both have to happen before I can start earning, so they are a priority.

But you all wanted to know what I am going to be doing, right? I am starting a personal and business concierge service, Boulevard Concierge Services, LLC. I will be providing services like errand running, personal shopping, relocation/moving assistance, and event planning, just to name a few. I plan to focus marketing at first to real estate agents, families of senior citizens, and busy professionals. I will do anything that someone wants to pay me to do that is not illegal, unethical, or immoral.

And I am really excited about it. I have SO MANY ideas about services that I could provide. And concierge is not just a service for the wealthy. In fact, I think that my main customer base will be middle to upper middle class women with families, for whom an hour of extra time is a very valuable thing. You hate shopping? I love it and am good at it, and I'll do it for you. You can't leave work to wait for Dish Network for four hours? I'll wait. And while I'm there I'll make homemade mac and cheese and address your Christmas cards. Need a Christmas present for Grandma who doesn't need another scarf or any more chocolates? How about a couple of hours of errand running or of organizing all that stuff that needs to go to Goodwill?

Basically, I am going to get paid for helping people, which, when it comes right down to it, is one of my favorite things to do.

I think that I am going to enjoy the networking and marketing almost as much as the work. And I know it will be a lot of work. And that it won't all be fun. And I know that the money crunch won't ease immediately. But I believe it will ease, because I know that I am going to be successful with this business. I am going to make my customers wonder how they ever lived without me.

New day

This morning has a strangely first-day-of-school, New-Year's-Day feel for me.

All of my kids have graduated from high school. Yes, this is normal and expected, but when you've homeschooled for 18 years, it's a big mental adjustment. I've just lost a big chunk of my identity. Of course, I've known this was coming and have been mentally preparing for a long time. And although the boys still live here, they need very little from me.

I've thought about taking on a second job. I considered just finding a full-time job, but I think that  leaving my job at church would probably be the change that would tip me over the edge. And in the end, no job that I would find would allow me the flexibility to run off and be grandma whenever I want.

So I've made a few decisions.

I'm going to spend some time during the rest of this year catching up with friends and family that I just haven't had much chance to connect with over the last several very busy years.

I'm going to get back to consistently walking, taking my vitamins, and eating better; all things that have gone by the wayside as I've dealt with my eye issue, the back pain from the accident last fall, and the stress that has been almost eating me up.

I am reviving my business, which has been languishing for about ten years. It's been sitting there waiting for me to be ready again.. More about that later.

I'm going to spend some time enjoying my sons while they are still here.

And I am going to soak up every bit of sun, pool time, fresh produce, etc., that summer has to give.

Still adjusting

I love to entertain. I love to have a couple of friends over for a glass of wine, several couples for a nice dinner, whole families for a weekend, or big shindigs for whatever occasion I can drum up.

I'm not Martha Stewart. All those cool party ideas on Pinterest are merely aspirational for me. When we invite friends over to hang out at the pool or the fire pit we throw together a plate of cheese and crackers or bowls of chips and salsa and a roll out a cooler full of beer. Even my big parties aren't much on decor or presentation.

But I enjoy them. Colin enjoys them. Our friends must enjoy them, unless they just feel compelled to show up out of politeness. We always have tasty food and plenty of it. And although it's work, it's also--in a weird way--kind of effortless.

Except for this time.

We have a graduation party this weekend. This is our fourth and final graduation party. Our oldest son has graduated from college. Our youngest son has finished his homeschool studies. And their cousin has also graduated from high school. It's outside-party season, which is my favorite.

This should be a breeze.

But it just isn't clicking. I've flip-flopped on my menu 87,000 times. I can't seem to get my mind wrapped around what needs to be accomplished. And then, suddenly, this weekend, I figured out what my problem is.

I don't have my Beppy.

This is the first major party that I've thrown without the help and input of my daughter. I try to bounce menu ideas off of my sons, and they stare blankly. I think about favorites that I would like to make, but realize that I can't do that much last minute prep alone. I dread Saturday morning with a crew of three--very helpful--males for last-minute party prep, and not another female in sight. (Because, you know, there are some things that we just KNOW need to be done.) She has been my right hand in  party-throwing since the first birthday party that we had for one of her brothers, probably around 1995.

 I may never manage to serve olive cheese balls again. It's another in a long string of adjustments to  my oldest child/only daughter/cooking-shopping-scrapping buddy abandoning me growing up and having a life of her own.

Oh, I'll survive. The party is slowly coming together, but things won't be quite as good as they would have been. No one else may even notice. (Please God!) But I'll know.

Times to remember

So, for the last 11 days I've been in Tucson. This is a new adventure for me.

I'm in Tucson because my beautiful daughter lives here now--thank goodness not permanently--and she is having a bit of a busy time, having given birth to our first grandson, John Ronald, a couple of days after I arrived.

My main occupation, joyfully so, has been chasing after, feeding, playing with, bathing, etc., my 20 month old granddaughter Helen. Between this activity and spending lots of time with my daughter, this has been the best two weeks I have had in a very long time. Sure, I miss home. But I have spent most of the last two and a half years missing my daughter, and, after this visit, I am sure I will be missing my granddaughter nearly as much!

Today we were out running a few errands and had one of those moments that make you think, "This. I want to remember this feeling." We were driving north toward the Catalina foothills on a slightly windy, pretty road. We had the windows down, enjoying the breeze of the sunny, mid-70s afternoon. We had our Starbucks drinks and Helen was enjoying a bit of a cheese danish and the feel of the wind. And we were all rocking to "Sweet Child o' Mine," with Bethany and I both singing out loud.

Yep. Happy.

It reminded me that even if we're apart most of the time, we're still us. When we're together, we still laugh, sometimes until we cry. We have all of the memories from the 25 years that we lived under the same roof. And now we have Helen to share them with.

Plannin' some meals

You would think that with two sons in college and working and with one son who is, for all practical purposes, finished homeschooling and is also working , I would be feeling like life is getting less complicated.

Ummmmm. No.

It will help when we have another car. We've been down one since that unfortunate event in the Menard's parking lot. (Can I just take a moment to say, "Sven, I miss you!") Jonathan, Andrew, and I share a car. Or rather, Jonathan and I share a car, and I chauffeur Andrew.

And then there's my job. Which I love. A lot. If I didn't, I would quit, because last year it cost us more in taxes than I made, so it's really more like a hobby. But, I will just think that I am really caught up--or even ahead--and then things happen. Like musicians.* Or Sundays unobserved in recent memory. And this always happens during holidays when I have extra stuff to do in the rest of my life.

And then there's my business that I am trying to resurrect. (I seem to lack the energy and ability to roll with the changes** that I used to have.)

So I am doing something that is going to shock those who know me well. I am going to simplify my life by planning our during-the-week meals. Starting after the holidays, Monday will be roast chicken and vegetables. Tuesday will be something with ground beef. Wednesday will be pasta or some take on mac & cheese. Thursday will be soup. Friday will be left-overs/fend-for-yourself night (since I'm usually the only one here.) On the weekends I will continue to cook what sounds good to the hubby.

I think that this plan will simplify my grocery shopping for the next couple of months. It will cut down on food waste. It will save money. The leftovers will be used. But it still leaves me room to make a dinner that will please my palate any given night.

* I LOVE MUSICIANS. I love it when they play their lovely music. But they tend to complicate my job. Not mentioning any particular names here.

**REO Speedwagon, where are you when I need you?

This could work on a Tuesday. Sweet potato shepherd's pie.

Being happy

The last few weeks have been challenging.

I woke up one morning a little over three weeks ago with some fogginess in my vision. I went to a local ophthalmologist and got a diagnosis and an appointment to return in five weeks. As the next several day passed, it continued to get worse, so, with some help from my mother, I found a specialist in Indianapolis who is in my insurance plan's network. They got me in the next day.

We discovered that the original diagnosis, while not incorrect, was incomplete, and that the problem is both potentially more serious, but also more treatable. The first line of treatment is a huge Prednisone blast, stepped down over six weeks.

My body didn't like that. I was jittery and agitated. Shaky. Couldn't sleep. Was having night sweats, achy muscles, limb numbness, and horrible mood swings. So we stepped down the amounts over the course of 10 days and now I am on half the original dose. We will continue the planned step down from here. I'm still having some side effects, but not so severe, and I can handle them if it saves the sight in my left eye.

In the midst of feeling like a total wreck, I was in a total wreck. Literally.

A driving lesson gone bad.

 

The Volvo did what it was supposed to do. The frame buckled and we both walked away. My husband went and looked at the site of the wreck and said that he can't believe we made it mostly between the tree and the light pole, hitting one with a glancing blow and bouncing off of the other.

So my car is totaled. My body is shaken and sore. I will miss my stupid car.

But we are not seriously hurt. The insurance company is giving us a fair price for the car. Life will go on.

And my eye seems to have improved a little.

Over the past couple of weeks, the prayers of my friends and family have surrounded me as an almost palpable thing. I have returned over and over again to some Psalms and hymns that are particularly powerful on themes of trust and contentment and the pure unwavering message that I belong to Christ and nothing changes that.

I am basically a happy person. I am blessed not to be prone to depression. I bounce back quickly. It is one positive personality trait that offsets many that I don't like so well. But right now I feel a little bit of a need to focus, specifically, on all of the large and small things in my life that add to my happiness. So, each day for at least a month, I am going to post a picture and blog about one of these things. Some will be totally frivolous and some will be big and obvious. I'm doing this for me, but I hope that you will enjoy it too.

Why should cross and trial grieve me?
Christ is near
With His cheer;
Never will He leave me.
Who can rob me of the heaven
That God's Son
For me won
When His life was given?


 When life's troubles rise to meet me,
Though their weight
May be great,
They will not defeat me.
God, my loving Savior, sends them;
He who knows
All my woes
Knows how best to end them.


God gives me my days of gladness,
And I will
Trust Him still
When He send me sadness.
God is good;
His love attends me
Day by day,
Come what may,
Guides me and defends me.

Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me, vv. 1-3
Paul Gerhardt

Back to school?

Lots of my friends are posting first-day-of-school pictures, or, among the homeschoolers, not-back-to-school plans.

I feel so left out. Okay, maybe not left out. But certainly sad that that time is past.

I am guessing that my 20 year old and 23 year old sons might let me snap a photo before they head off for their first day of the fall semester in a week and a half. And I guess I do still have one student in my homeschool, but he is a senior this year and is completely self-sufficient.

I miss self-consciously sleeping in on the first day of school, then spending the day at the suddenly-empty parks. I miss planning a trip to the Childrens' Museum and Zoo for those first back-to-school weeks before school field trips started. I miss making big breakfasts, following the Oregon Trail, rescuing Zoombinis, maneuvering around tents made of quilts and chairs, and reading aloud.

This is my last year as a homeschooling mom, but it really feels like it's over already, the final gasp of something that has been winding down for several years. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit to being in the midst of something of an identity crisis.

What next? I don't know, but I don't think that my 12-hour-a-week job and trying to keep up with my house will keep me happy for long.

One problem with time management books

" The goal of much that is written about life management is to enable us to do more in less time." Jean Fleming, quoted in Margin. "Perhaps we need to get less done, but the right things."

YES. Oh yes.

Updated to-do list

Thanks to Susan visiting and commenting on my almost-forgotten to-do list, I did some updating today. A lot has happened in the last four years that wasn't on that list.

It didn't say get a job.
It didn't say graduate two sons from our homeschool and send them to college.
It didn't say find your husband an apartment in another city so that he can spend five days a week elsewhere.
It didn't say plan and host a wedding. Or become a Grandma.
It didn't say buy a money pit and invest huge chunks of your timeinto tearing apart and fixing up.
It didn't say take some time almost every day in the summer to enjoy your pool. Or have a beer with your neighbor, or go for a walk with your sons. But I'm glad that I've done these things.

How do you read so much?

I get this question frequently and it came up at book group last night. I explained that I always have a book with me, read while I do mundane activities like blow drying my hair, etc.

But I forgot the biggest thing. I don't watch TV. I have watched less than 20 hours of TV this year, and that includes several nights of Gilmore Girls episodes while Bethany was here visiting. I stream Downton Abbey and Project Runway, usually while I'm fixing dinner.

I don't play computer games any more. I don't watch movies, except on very rare occasions as a family activity.

I used to watch a lot of TV. I used to play a lot of computer games. I didn't make a conscious decision to stop, but we got rid of our satellite a year ago and have not missed it. I didn't decide to stop playing computer games; I just don't really enjoy them any more.

I used to lose a lot of time to Facebook and websurfing, but I gave up on trying to keep up with every bit of news from everyone that I know. Now I check in briefly several times a day. I don't just go looking to see if I can find something to read. I check specific sites and then get off.

If I want to relax, I read a book. And I do read quickly. That's how I read so many books.

Pack it in

The next three weeks is going to be crazy. Cuh-ray-zee.

Wednesday and Thursday I'll be off on a road trip rescuing my daughter from behind the cheddar curtain. Friday I'll be busily preparing for the baby shower that a couple of friends and I are hosting on Saturday for another friend who is pregnant 12 years after her last one. We have ballgame tickets for Saturday night.

Sunday is an out-of-town trip for a shower for Bethany. Next week we will have out-of-town-company Monday through Thursday as we prepare for more out of town company Friday through Sunday. And another ballgame Saturday night.

Then there will be three days respite during which I will work frantically to get my at-work work done and my house somewhat sane before I leave for four or five days to take my Precious back to Wisconsin and help her and Evan make their first of two moves this summer.

In the midst of this I need to keep working on my pool, continue reclaiming my house from the great storage expulsion,feed people, and work on some web/social networking/marketing stuff for a friend's new business. And do my job that they pay me for.

When I come back it will be June. It will be four days until Jonathan's graduation party and five days before we begin demolition on our main bathroom.

What a year!

This time last year:

• We knew a transfer for Colin would be coming, but not the timing.
• Evan and Bethany had been dating for almost two months. He had spent Christmas at our house and she was in Wisconsin meeting his family. Colin and I drove up to Wisconsin to bring her back. We met Evan's parents over lunch at Buca di Beppo on New Year's Day.
• We lived in the same house we'd been in for almost nine years and knew that we had a lot of work to do to get it ready to sell.
• We had our eye on a house close to church that had been on and off the market for years.

 Now:

• Colin has been working in the 'burbs for seven months, staying in an apartment during the week, and coming home on the weekends.
• Evan and Bethany have been married for 4 1/2 months. (That means we got an engagement, wedding planning, and an out-of-state move for her all into one year!)
• We prepped our former house, vacated for tons of showings, and ended up living there for a couple of months longer than we had planned. This fall we turned it over to a relo company and heard yesterday that it is finally sold.
• We bought our "less-expensive" house down the street from church and spent our summer finding out all of the problems it had and spending all of our money to fix them. It is on its way to being exactly the home we wanted and the location is great.

It was all rather frantic and stressful while we were living it. But, with the exception of Colin being gone four nights a week, it's all turning out well. And that has an end down the road, which makes it bearable.