Haven't heard from me in a while, eh? I'm still around. I have a few musings about life in my household rattling around in my head. Bear with me until I can capture those. In the meantime, I invite you to join me in a new conversation. If you've ever wondered about what it takes to be satisfied in life, if the thought of counting what you have and watching what happens when you reach "enough" interests you: join me. We'll be talking about the in's and out's of living a life of contentment over at:
http://countingtoenough.blogspot.com/
Friday, July 01, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
An Awesome New Book!
I'm excited to introduce a new book to you today. I've been reading it for the past few weeks and have been encouraged to keep taking steps toward living my dreams. First, hear some words for you today from author, Kathi Lipp. Then leave a comment to be entered in the drawing.
Three Super-Simple Kick Start Living Your Dreams
– in the next 15 minutes
by Kathi Lipp
Is there a dream that God has given you, but you are waiting until the kids are grown and you have money in the bank before you get started?
You may not be able to enroll in a month long pastry making class or take a week off of work to get started on your novel, but today you can take three little baby steps to making your dream a day-to-day reality.
1. Go Public with It
It’s a little scary to tell the world what you want to do when you grow up—but this is one little step could get you closer to living your dream than almost any other. Plus—it takes very little time and you don’t have to raid your kid’s college fund to make it happen.
When you gather up all your courage and tell your best friend, “I want to learn how to paint,” suddenly she remembers an old art book she has laying around she would love to give you, or her friend from church who teaches art classes. The people you know and love want to be a resource. Give them the privilege of being a part of making your dream happen.
2. Join an Online Group
This is one of the simplest—and cheapest—ways to start exploring your passion. Find out who else is talking about restoring antiques and listen to their conversation. Start by Googling your interest along with the term “online groups.” You will be amazed with the number of people who want to talk about the proper way to care for 1950’s lunchboxes as much as you do.
3. Don’t be Afraid to Pray
I remember the first time I put an offer in on a house—I wanted it more than I had wanted almost anything else in my life. While I knew that I had dozens of other people praying on my behalf, I was too scared to pray.
I didn’t want God to tell me no. I was afraid to pray until my co-worker Kim asked me (in a loving, kind way), why I didn’t believe that God wanted His best for me. Don’t be afraid to pray—as with anything amazing in my life, the path is never what I expected, but it has always been obvious that God’s hand has been on it the whole way.
| |
Book Summary (San Jose, CA) Has that rush to make (and break) New Year’s resolutions already waned? According to Daniel Pink, author of 
Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, taking small steps every day will not only help you stay committed to your goal, 
but will also help you ultimately achieve that goal when obstacles come up. Author Kathi Lipp wants you and your friends to live out those dreams—and have some fun along the way. As women, we forget the goals and dreams of our younger years. The busyness of everyday life gets 
in the way. To-do lists replace goals. The Me Project provides women with fun and creative ways to bring back the sense of purpose and vitality that comes with living out the plans and dreams God has planted in our hearts. Kathi Lipp’s warm tone and laugh-out-loud humor motivates women to take daily steps toward intentional goals. The end result? We get back our lives and enjoy living in the confidence of a purposeful life in spite of our chaotic schedules. This handy guide coaches women to do one simple thing toward achieving our goals each day for three weeks. A woman experiencing the exhilaration of a rediscovered life offers more as a wife, mother, friend, volunteer, career woman. Finding the balance between living day-to-day with purpose while pursuing the passions God has placed in our hearts is a delicate pursuit. In this refreshing, insightful book, 
Kathi lays out a doable plan that makes sense and helps make our God-given dreams 
a reality. Never stop dreaming, because women who dare to dream do make the world 
a better place. —Jean Blackmer author of MomSense: A Common Sense Guide to Confident Mothering Publishing Manager, MOPS International www.MOPS.org Author Bio | |
Kathi Lipp is a busy conference and retreat speaker, currently speaking each year to thousands of women throughout the United States. She is the author of The Husband Project and The Marriage Project, serves as food writer for Nickelodeon, and has had articles published in several magazines, including Today’s Christian Woman and Discipleship Journal. Kathi and her husband, Roger, live in California and are the parents of four teenagers and young adults. For more information visit her website: www.kathilipp.com |
Grand Prize Giveaway: Deluxe Starbucks Coffee Gift Basket
$62 value |
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Expiring Soon
If you live in Chicagoland and haven't heard about it yet, a certain food store chain was just put on life support. My prediction? They're not long for this world. In fact you might say they're past their expiration date.
Oh wait. That's the food they sell. Ironically, last month this particular chain announced that they would no longer be accepting expired coupons from customers (they were one of the last chains to do so). Now it appears that instead, they're selling expired food to customers.
Honestly? This is scary stuff. Things are changing rapidly in the relationships between retailers and consumers. With the Internet empowering the masses through aggregating of information and deals, retailers have been scrambling to find a new business model. And in some cases, the backlash toward their customers has been disappointing. This story seems to be yet another instance of customers being jerked around and played for fools. Only in this case it's downright dangerous. How many people have been unknowingly sickened from eating expired food that they just purchased from the grocery store?
I will say that we've had one or two instances in the past year where food that I presumed was "fresh" because I'd recently bought it had a funky taste. I've not been one to inspect expiration dates on anything other than milk - until now.
The expired food incident will not be the cause of the company's demise. It will simply be the final blow to an already weak and failing enterprise. How am I so sure? On any given day the parking lot of my neighborhood grocer in this chain is generally wide open, while their competitor across the street has a jammed lot. After this news, any remaining loyal customers may be leery of shopping there. Me? I'd been mostly avoiding it due to hastles I'd had on every single trip I made there. Now? I won't risk my family's health by shopping there.
Disclaimer: I have not independently verified the allegations purported in the linked blog post. At this point, with the grocery chain in question rapidly working to remove any possible expired food, the opportunity to verify is gone. It has also been brought to my attention that consuming past date food is not as serious as I have made it seem (although selling it alongside fresher food without calling it to customer's attention I still believe is bad business). And I don't agree with those bringing the allegations that food only weeks past it's expiration date should be called into question the way older products are - some of what they pulled off shelves crossed the line to make a point. That was unnecessary.
I also want to acknowledge that I have allowed my own personal dealings with one location to color my perceptions of the company as a whole. I do know for certain that there is at least one store in this chain in the Western Suburbs that works hard to satisfy their customers and treat them with due respect.
I'll leave you with an official statement from the company in question regarding the expired food allegations: "[Our] customers rightly expect they will find only high-quality, fresh products at all of our stores."
Oh wait. That's the food they sell. Ironically, last month this particular chain announced that they would no longer be accepting expired coupons from customers (they were one of the last chains to do so). Now it appears that instead, they're selling expired food to customers.
Honestly? This is scary stuff. Things are changing rapidly in the relationships between retailers and consumers. With the Internet empowering the masses through aggregating of information and deals, retailers have been scrambling to find a new business model. And in some cases, the backlash toward their customers has been disappointing. This story seems to be yet another instance of customers being jerked around and played for fools. Only in this case it's downright dangerous. How many people have been unknowingly sickened from eating expired food that they just purchased from the grocery store?
I will say that we've had one or two instances in the past year where food that I presumed was "fresh" because I'd recently bought it had a funky taste. I've not been one to inspect expiration dates on anything other than milk - until now.
The expired food incident will not be the cause of the company's demise. It will simply be the final blow to an already weak and failing enterprise. How am I so sure? On any given day the parking lot of my neighborhood grocer in this chain is generally wide open, while their competitor across the street has a jammed lot. After this news, any remaining loyal customers may be leery of shopping there. Me? I'd been mostly avoiding it due to hastles I'd had on every single trip I made there. Now? I won't risk my family's health by shopping there.
Disclaimer: I have not independently verified the allegations purported in the linked blog post. At this point, with the grocery chain in question rapidly working to remove any possible expired food, the opportunity to verify is gone. It has also been brought to my attention that consuming past date food is not as serious as I have made it seem (although selling it alongside fresher food without calling it to customer's attention I still believe is bad business). And I don't agree with those bringing the allegations that food only weeks past it's expiration date should be called into question the way older products are - some of what they pulled off shelves crossed the line to make a point. That was unnecessary.
I also want to acknowledge that I have allowed my own personal dealings with one location to color my perceptions of the company as a whole. I do know for certain that there is at least one store in this chain in the Western Suburbs that works hard to satisfy their customers and treat them with due respect.
I'll leave you with an official statement from the company in question regarding the expired food allegations: "[Our] customers rightly expect they will find only high-quality, fresh products at all of our stores."
Friday, January 21, 2011
A Boom in the Night
Boom! I jerked awake, certain I'd heard a loud noise. This happens to me sometimes, especially in the winter, and especially on really cold nights. I usually shake my husband and ask him, "Did you hear that?". He then mumbles that he didn't and I try to fall back to sleep, wondering if I heard something or not.
Last night it happened again. Boom! This time when I jerked awake I heard the dog in his crate beside me jolt upright too. His breath came out in loud pants. DH stirred.
"You heard it?" I whispered cautiously.
"Mmm...", he mumbled. "It's the house settling."
A little bit later there came another shuddering thud, followed by creaking in the attic above me. It was a bit unsettling to me. But at least I'd finally gotten confirmation that it wasn't some freaky crossing over from sleep to awake phenomenon that presented itself as a booming sound. It was my house.
I guess that's what happens when the temperature plunges below zero. But only at night. Very weird. Makes me want to look around for cracks. Makes me wonder how much things moved. And it definitely makes me want to stay inside. No, I'm not crazy. If the cold is so bad it can do that to a house, imagine what it can do to me! I'm hibernating today.
How about you? Does your house go boom in the night?
Last night it happened again. Boom! This time when I jerked awake I heard the dog in his crate beside me jolt upright too. His breath came out in loud pants. DH stirred.
"You heard it?" I whispered cautiously.
"Mmm...", he mumbled. "It's the house settling."
A little bit later there came another shuddering thud, followed by creaking in the attic above me. It was a bit unsettling to me. But at least I'd finally gotten confirmation that it wasn't some freaky crossing over from sleep to awake phenomenon that presented itself as a booming sound. It was my house.
I guess that's what happens when the temperature plunges below zero. But only at night. Very weird. Makes me want to look around for cracks. Makes me wonder how much things moved. And it definitely makes me want to stay inside. No, I'm not crazy. If the cold is so bad it can do that to a house, imagine what it can do to me! I'm hibernating today.
How about you? Does your house go boom in the night?
Monday, December 13, 2010
Older Model Car (or "Trapped")
I watched the movie Little Miss Sunshine last week. It was kind of weird and quirky, but touching too. It actually left me feeling a little off-kilter. But I connected with one aspect of that family's life and that's this: their cranky old VW bus.
I don't have a VW of any kind. And some might not even call my twelve-year-old Chevy "old". But in winter weather it certainly gets cranky. This morning, I found myself feeling a lot like the Hoover family as I sat trapped in my car...in my garage. You see, my little Prizm has this habit of freezing shut, where it's impossible to get the doors open. But I've found a workaround to that. I simply use the remote start and let it run a little bit to thaw out.
It also has the habit of getting frozen open, as in the driver's side door won't latch when it's too cold. For that quirk, I move the car into the empty spot in the garage after DH leaves for work.
This exceptionally cold morning, I decided to get a head start on dealing with the car's issues, so it would be ready by 7:30am when my daughter needed to get to the junior high (I figured I'd be a nice mom and drive her most of the way down there). I hit the remote start. It chugged for a moment and then stopped. I shuffled down the drive and grabbed our newspaper, then tried again. With a groan, the engine turned over and then roared to a start.
I went in and ate my breakfast while letting it warm up for five minutes. Then I bundled up and headed out to the car. It took a hard pull, but the door opened. And when I pulled it shut, it actually latched. I cheered to myself briefly before pulling the car into the garage.
Then I went to get out. The handle barely moved and the door didn't budge. I tried again. Nothing. So I leaned across to the passenger door and pulled on the manual lock. It stuck. I pulled harder. Nothing. Now I was beginning to get irked. Climbing into the back seat, I yanked on the back door lock. It opened! Then I pulled on the handle. It moved, but the door was frozen shut.
At this point I wondered what to do. I didn't have my cell phone on me because I was only driving from my driveway into the garage. But I could honk the horn and maybe my kids would come out to help me. Or I could sit it out and wait for the car to thaw in the garage.
Finally I rolled down the back window and tried opening the door from the outside. This time it opened. I was free!
I guess I should be thankful. My Prizm doesn't have a broken clutch that requires it to have a running start. And the horn doesn't stick in an incessant whining toot. Plus, none of the doors have fallen off...yet. Still, I can feel the pain of Olive Hoover's family driving around in their old pile of metal. Yup, life with an older car is certainly an adventure. We'll just leave it at that.
I don't have a VW of any kind. And some might not even call my twelve-year-old Chevy "old". But in winter weather it certainly gets cranky. This morning, I found myself feeling a lot like the Hoover family as I sat trapped in my car...in my garage. You see, my little Prizm has this habit of freezing shut, where it's impossible to get the doors open. But I've found a workaround to that. I simply use the remote start and let it run a little bit to thaw out.
It also has the habit of getting frozen open, as in the driver's side door won't latch when it's too cold. For that quirk, I move the car into the empty spot in the garage after DH leaves for work.
This exceptionally cold morning, I decided to get a head start on dealing with the car's issues, so it would be ready by 7:30am when my daughter needed to get to the junior high (I figured I'd be a nice mom and drive her most of the way down there). I hit the remote start. It chugged for a moment and then stopped. I shuffled down the drive and grabbed our newspaper, then tried again. With a groan, the engine turned over and then roared to a start.
I went in and ate my breakfast while letting it warm up for five minutes. Then I bundled up and headed out to the car. It took a hard pull, but the door opened. And when I pulled it shut, it actually latched. I cheered to myself briefly before pulling the car into the garage.
Then I went to get out. The handle barely moved and the door didn't budge. I tried again. Nothing. So I leaned across to the passenger door and pulled on the manual lock. It stuck. I pulled harder. Nothing. Now I was beginning to get irked. Climbing into the back seat, I yanked on the back door lock. It opened! Then I pulled on the handle. It moved, but the door was frozen shut.
At this point I wondered what to do. I didn't have my cell phone on me because I was only driving from my driveway into the garage. But I could honk the horn and maybe my kids would come out to help me. Or I could sit it out and wait for the car to thaw in the garage.
Finally I rolled down the back window and tried opening the door from the outside. This time it opened. I was free!
I guess I should be thankful. My Prizm doesn't have a broken clutch that requires it to have a running start. And the horn doesn't stick in an incessant whining toot. Plus, none of the doors have fallen off...yet. Still, I can feel the pain of Olive Hoover's family driving around in their old pile of metal. Yup, life with an older car is certainly an adventure. We'll just leave it at that.
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Still Around, Just Doggin' It
As you can see, the lag between my blog posts grows. I'm still here. I hope in 2011 to get back to a more semi-regular schedule of posts.
The latest and greatest thing in our household has been the addition of a dog, Alex the Schnoodle. I had been the holdout in our family and finally gave in to the longstanding pleas to "just look" at a dog. I had my reasons: the humane society in our fair city was running a special in October of half off the adoption fee. You know what a sucker I am for bargains. I also had seen on their website that they had a dog that sounded like he might fit my exacting standards (oh, I had quite a list, let me tell you). So on the 30th of October we went to "look".
The girls ooh and aahed over all the cute (noisy) puppies. And one adorable shitzu really got their attention. But well, I didn't want a puppy and it had to be a breed that wouldn't shed for all of our allergies. And the dog I'd read about wasn't in his cage. He was apparently visiting with another family. Still, I asked if we could see him next.
The furry creature that we met was nothing like I expected. He was quiet, but friendly and pretty mellow. I'm not sure what about him appealed to my girls, other than that he was a dog. And his name was Alex. Alex??? Who names a dog Alex?
Well, we adopted him the next day and he's been the perfect addition to our family. Mellow, like our family. Cuddly (which is important around three girls). And an absolute gentleman of a dog. The adjustment as been nearly seamless. Okay, there were the first few days when I got a little fed up with being constantly followed. Literally, his nose would touch the back of my legs as I walked. But now we're buddies. I have to go hunt for him if he's not nearby, although he's never up to any kind of trouble. And when I get out of his sight, he trots frantically around the house until he finds me.
Best of all? Timid daughter loves him and he loves her back. In the evenings he sneaks away from me to go sleep on her bed. It's precious. Frankly, I think Christmas this year will be a bit of a letdown after getting Alex. After all, with him, every one of
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Bad Feeling in Her (& My) Stomach
You know the feeling you get when someone in your family is recovering from the stomach flu and is feeling just better enough to be hungry? That feeling you have when everyone else is well and sits down to eat a normal meal while the formerly ill person is stuck with jello and applesauce. The feeling you get when the sick one is a little person who gives you sad eyes when you tell her (again), that no, she may not have cheese pizza tonight like everyone else. It's the feeling you get as you look in those sad eyes. You know, that pit-in-your-stomach stuck kind of feeling? Yeah, that one.
I've got that feeling today. Except no one in my family is recovering from the stomach flu. Instead, I'm having to look in the sad eyes of my child who has chronic "stomach issues" and tell her that she can't have cheese pizza for the next few weeks. And we don't know how much of an option cheese pizza will be in the future.
I'm having to talk with my chocoholic Timid Daughter about how chocolate is on the list of foods that could contribute to her stomach problems. A week before Halloween.
I'm having to sort through what our doctor has told us to avoid or limit and match it up with what we usually eat. Except that the list to avoid looks strangely like my entire menu plan.
Yeah, I've got that feeling and it's not going away. At least not any time soon. And I know there are plenty of parents out there these days who have experienced that feeling in deeper and darker ways than I am. Parents who are thinking to themselves right now - yep, welcome to my world.
I've got that feeling today. Except no one in my family is recovering from the stomach flu. Instead, I'm having to look in the sad eyes of my child who has chronic "stomach issues" and tell her that she can't have cheese pizza for the next few weeks. And we don't know how much of an option cheese pizza will be in the future.
I'm having to talk with my chocoholic Timid Daughter about how chocolate is on the list of foods that could contribute to her stomach problems. A week before Halloween.
I'm having to sort through what our doctor has told us to avoid or limit and match it up with what we usually eat. Except that the list to avoid looks strangely like my entire menu plan.
Yeah, I've got that feeling and it's not going away. At least not any time soon. And I know there are plenty of parents out there these days who have experienced that feeling in deeper and darker ways than I am. Parents who are thinking to themselves right now - yep, welcome to my world.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Burning the Candle at Both Ends
Thankfully the title of this post doesn't entirely capture life for me recently. But sometimes it feels like it. Between new school routines, work and a class I'm taking that's proven to be rather rigorous, this little blog has gone by the wayside for a while. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, but that there's so much to write about and not enough time.
Here's what I'm thinking about today: candles. That's right, those little (or big) wax things with a wick that used to be used for light, but now are pretty much just decoration. I have a lot of candles. But I haven't much paid attention to them in the past. I remember a wise friend who is known for having candles lit in her house, pretty much 24/7, advising that it's a great gesture to make your house more welcoming. I tried putting her advise into practice, but more often than not would remember until after the fact.
Then I read about a writer who would stage her writing area in such a way as to cue herself that it was time to write (I think it was Gretchen Rubin in The Happiness Project). She'd go to her writing space and would light a candle before starting her work for the day. I decided that this was just the thing to banish my lazy writer ways. I needed a candle for my office. So before the school year started, I took my children to Yankee Candle and proceeded to sniff every one of their candles in a search for the perfect scent for my office. It needed to be something gentle. Not too sweet, not too musky. Something soothing and cozy. I decided on "Drift Away". It seemed fitting for what I hoped would happen as my fingers scrambled over the keyboard - that I'd drift away into my writerly world. I'd become prolific.
Since then I've been kind of candle crazy. I actually remembered to light the wonderful Autumn Wreath jar candle I've kept in my powder room prior to the arrival of some overnight guests (partly because I needed to cover up the Scrubbing Bubbles scent from our mad cleaning spree). And most days I light my office candle as I settle in for a writing session. The promise of a beautiful scent and the calming sounds of my favorite Pandora stations tends to woo me into the office. The candle and music ritual seems to be working.
But I don't always write in my office. When my family is around and I still have writing to do, I like to sit in our living room with my laptop. What to do? I have no candle for the living room. You can imagine then how thrilled I was to get an Amber Sunset jar candle as a gift recently. It took me a few moments to think of where to put it, but then I remembered: my candle-less living room.
An added bonus of my new found fondness for candles? My family will have a much easier time finding gifts for me this year for Christmas. They can just pick up Drift Away or Storm Watch or even Garden Sweet Pea for me. It's one way to get onto the dedication page of my next book. : )
Here's what I'm thinking about today: candles. That's right, those little (or big) wax things with a wick that used to be used for light, but now are pretty much just decoration. I have a lot of candles. But I haven't much paid attention to them in the past. I remember a wise friend who is known for having candles lit in her house, pretty much 24/7, advising that it's a great gesture to make your house more welcoming. I tried putting her advise into practice, but more often than not would remember until after the fact.
Then I read about a writer who would stage her writing area in such a way as to cue herself that it was time to write (I think it was Gretchen Rubin in The Happiness Project). She'd go to her writing space and would light a candle before starting her work for the day. I decided that this was just the thing to banish my lazy writer ways. I needed a candle for my office. So before the school year started, I took my children to Yankee Candle and proceeded to sniff every one of their candles in a search for the perfect scent for my office. It needed to be something gentle. Not too sweet, not too musky. Something soothing and cozy. I decided on "Drift Away". It seemed fitting for what I hoped would happen as my fingers scrambled over the keyboard - that I'd drift away into my writerly world. I'd become prolific.
Since then I've been kind of candle crazy. I actually remembered to light the wonderful Autumn Wreath jar candle I've kept in my powder room prior to the arrival of some overnight guests (partly because I needed to cover up the Scrubbing Bubbles scent from our mad cleaning spree). And most days I light my office candle as I settle in for a writing session. The promise of a beautiful scent and the calming sounds of my favorite Pandora stations tends to woo me into the office. The candle and music ritual seems to be working.
But I don't always write in my office. When my family is around and I still have writing to do, I like to sit in our living room with my laptop. What to do? I have no candle for the living room. You can imagine then how thrilled I was to get an Amber Sunset jar candle as a gift recently. It took me a few moments to think of where to put it, but then I remembered: my candle-less living room.
An added bonus of my new found fondness for candles? My family will have a much easier time finding gifts for me this year for Christmas. They can just pick up Drift Away or Storm Watch or even Garden Sweet Pea for me. It's one way to get onto the dedication page of my next book. : )
Friday, September 03, 2010
Cheering for a Big Fat Zero!
Anyone remember back more than a year ago when I said I was going to try and get my email inbox to zero? Even I thought it was going to be a stretch. And I was right, it was a stretch. But here's the thing - without stretching, we can't grow.
I've been reading a lot lately on ways to promote contentment in your life. The latest is Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity by Keri Wyatt Kent. In it she talks about the need to stretch beyond our current abilities in order to grow (and in that growth, I think we experience a sense of contentment). Our muscles grow stronger by being pushed just beyond their limits. Same with our emotional capacity. Kent defines quite well how this really applies to every area of our lives. So in my case, it was a stretch to aim for zero email messages in my inbox.
Guess what? I got there today. That's right, I was able to respond to the two messages left from yesterday and that left me with none. And like Kent suggests, the stretch has caused me to grow. It has caused me to change one of my procrastinator habits of letting messages sit until I feel good and ready to respond to them. When your inbox is slowly creeping toward empty, there's less volume to support the excuse that "there's too much to do it now". In fact, the quest to get that inbox depleted worked as a sort of carrot dangling before me. I was willing to stay in my seat and work hard at typing a good response now, rather than waiting.
I've also grown in my ability to make decisions more rapidly, at least in this area. For indecisive me, that's a big step. I now decide on a response, send it, then file or delete. It's much easier to sort through dozens of emails efficiently when you can do that.
So will I keep it at zero? No. I don't think I can do that on a day-to-day basis. But in the past few months (other than during vacation), it's rarely crept above 25. And now that it's at zero, I'm guessing I can keep it even lower than that. My goal from here on out is to zero it out by Friday each week.
Now I've got to set myself another stretch goal. Hmmm...any suggestions?
I've been reading a lot lately on ways to promote contentment in your life. The latest is Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity by Keri Wyatt Kent. In it she talks about the need to stretch beyond our current abilities in order to grow (and in that growth, I think we experience a sense of contentment). Our muscles grow stronger by being pushed just beyond their limits. Same with our emotional capacity. Kent defines quite well how this really applies to every area of our lives. So in my case, it was a stretch to aim for zero email messages in my inbox.
Guess what? I got there today. That's right, I was able to respond to the two messages left from yesterday and that left me with none. And like Kent suggests, the stretch has caused me to grow. It has caused me to change one of my procrastinator habits of letting messages sit until I feel good and ready to respond to them. When your inbox is slowly creeping toward empty, there's less volume to support the excuse that "there's too much to do it now". In fact, the quest to get that inbox depleted worked as a sort of carrot dangling before me. I was willing to stay in my seat and work hard at typing a good response now, rather than waiting.
I've also grown in my ability to make decisions more rapidly, at least in this area. For indecisive me, that's a big step. I now decide on a response, send it, then file or delete. It's much easier to sort through dozens of emails efficiently when you can do that.
So will I keep it at zero? No. I don't think I can do that on a day-to-day basis. But in the past few months (other than during vacation), it's rarely crept above 25. And now that it's at zero, I'm guessing I can keep it even lower than that. My goal from here on out is to zero it out by Friday each week.
Now I've got to set myself another stretch goal. Hmmm...any suggestions?
Friday, August 27, 2010
Trash or Treasure?
Over the summer I worked on clearing out the clutter and organizing our house. In the midst of it I went on a binge and bought a dozen storage containers for our crawlspace. My girls' outgrown clothes filled up most of those. But two remaining containers seemed perfect for storing the keepsakes DH and I each had stashed away in old cardboard boxes.
This week, as my daughters worked to shift some of their treasured things into storage, I finally transferred my keepsakes to the container. It was fun looking through the odd assortment of toys, awards, and other momentos as I worked. I found my cloth frontier doll, Mary, with her faded dress and redrawn face. And the "My Friend, Mandy" doll that I didn't get until high school (after wanting her for years), looking barely worse for the wear after several decades in a box. There were old journals and class photos. Florist cards and address books. Letters and programs. My Romper Stompers, now too small for my own children, joined the collection.
At the bottom though, I discovered a softball trophy. The placard read "Hinsdale-Clarendon Hills Juniors Softball 1979 - 2nd Place". I remember that team. Our color was orange. I played right field. Apparently I'd joined a decent team. After all, they did take second place.
The next day I threw that trophy out. I don't know why I had kept it, other than that it was a trophy. I don't like playing softball now. And I don't recall liking it then. I didn't play very well, so the trophy said nothing about me and my abilities. Nor about my interests in childhood. Just that I'd played on the second place juniors softball team. Not the first place team even, but second. Runners up. Did it really ever matter, even back then?
I explained this to my daughters when they asked why I would throw it out. They nodded in understanding.
"It's like our participation medals we get in soccer," Timid Daughter said. "It doesn't mean we did anything, just that we played soccer." She scrunched past me into the crawlspace to put her participation medals into her own keepsake container.
I wonder if she'll wait until she is my age before she throws them away.
This week, as my daughters worked to shift some of their treasured things into storage, I finally transferred my keepsakes to the container. It was fun looking through the odd assortment of toys, awards, and other momentos as I worked. I found my cloth frontier doll, Mary, with her faded dress and redrawn face. And the "My Friend, Mandy" doll that I didn't get until high school (after wanting her for years), looking barely worse for the wear after several decades in a box. There were old journals and class photos. Florist cards and address books. Letters and programs. My Romper Stompers, now too small for my own children, joined the collection.
At the bottom though, I discovered a softball trophy. The placard read "Hinsdale-Clarendon Hills Juniors Softball 1979 - 2nd Place". I remember that team. Our color was orange. I played right field. Apparently I'd joined a decent team. After all, they did take second place.
The next day I threw that trophy out. I don't know why I had kept it, other than that it was a trophy. I don't like playing softball now. And I don't recall liking it then. I didn't play very well, so the trophy said nothing about me and my abilities. Nor about my interests in childhood. Just that I'd played on the second place juniors softball team. Not the first place team even, but second. Runners up. Did it really ever matter, even back then?
I explained this to my daughters when they asked why I would throw it out. They nodded in understanding.
"It's like our participation medals we get in soccer," Timid Daughter said. "It doesn't mean we did anything, just that we played soccer." She scrunched past me into the crawlspace to put her participation medals into her own keepsake container.
I wonder if she'll wait until she is my age before she throws them away.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
A New Drink Poured
It's here! That day is here that I have been looking toward for... okay, I'm not going to embarrass myself by saying how long, let's just say a long time. Today my baby started first grade, which in our school district is the beginning of full-day school. I'm home alone!
What's that you say? You already knew this because you could hear the whoops & hollers for miles around? No, no, couldn't be. That wasn't me you were hearing at all. So did I sob when I watched my baby walk into the school instead? Well, not exactly.
It's a tumbler-full of emotions kind of day. The Uber-princess, who had been counting down the days and then hours until school started, turned at the last moment and clutched my hand. She pulled me down to her for another kiss before joining the line marching into school. Excitement and hesitation stirred into one for her in that moment. Later, as I wiped the kitchen counter, I sorrowed over how it would be empty come lunchtime. But I also felt nearly lightheaded over the freedom afforded to me by the absence of children for six-and-a-half hours. Exuberance and nostalgia swirled together in another emotional cocktail.
I'm guessing it will continue to be so for our family until we settle into our new routines. LMH started junior high today, with a similar mixture of apprehension and enthusiasm. I think it's a very human response to newness. We revel in the thought of possibilities, the future a brimming pitcher of unsampled potential. Yet we also shrink back toward the familiar, the comfortable. Thankfully, the newness can become comfortable without losing potential. And so we all plunge forward into a new school year, hopeful, excited and yet equally sentimental.
How about you? Are you one for whom Fall and a new school year represents possibility with it's sloshed-together mixture of feelings? Or has it all become a blur, one month pouring into the next, the same drink day after day?
What's that you say? You already knew this because you could hear the whoops & hollers for miles around? No, no, couldn't be. That wasn't me you were hearing at all. So did I sob when I watched my baby walk into the school instead? Well, not exactly.
It's a tumbler-full of emotions kind of day. The Uber-princess, who had been counting down the days and then hours until school started, turned at the last moment and clutched my hand. She pulled me down to her for another kiss before joining the line marching into school. Excitement and hesitation stirred into one for her in that moment. Later, as I wiped the kitchen counter, I sorrowed over how it would be empty come lunchtime. But I also felt nearly lightheaded over the freedom afforded to me by the absence of children for six-and-a-half hours. Exuberance and nostalgia swirled together in another emotional cocktail.
I'm guessing it will continue to be so for our family until we settle into our new routines. LMH started junior high today, with a similar mixture of apprehension and enthusiasm. I think it's a very human response to newness. We revel in the thought of possibilities, the future a brimming pitcher of unsampled potential. Yet we also shrink back toward the familiar, the comfortable. Thankfully, the newness can become comfortable without losing potential. And so we all plunge forward into a new school year, hopeful, excited and yet equally sentimental.
How about you? Are you one for whom Fall and a new school year represents possibility with it's sloshed-together mixture of feelings? Or has it all become a blur, one month pouring into the next, the same drink day after day?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Camp Week!
Last week was "Camp Week" in our family. I haven't been big on sending my kids to summer camps (I know - I'm a weird Naperville mom. Everybody in Naperville seems to send their kids to summer campS). But this year a few opportunities came up that seemed to fit my kids. Rather than spread them out and lock up multiple weeks of our summer, I chose to stack them all in one week. Can you say, "insanity"? It was worth all the driving though.
Here's a quick summary of our camp week:
LMH went to volleyball camp coached by the vball coaches from her future high school. Way cool for her! And great skill building. She had gone to vball camp last summer with the coaches from the other high school. It was good too. But this time seemed to ignite her interest even more. Maybe it was the fact that a handful of girls from her school were there. Maybe it was the fact that she could actually do the drills with some skill. And maybe it was the fact that she got some extra coaching at home from resident vball player - Dad. Probably it was all three. Who knows how far she'll get in playing volleyball. It's a competitive field in our fair city. We've heard of club players with lots of dedication (and skill?) not get on the high school team. For now, it's her sport and she loved the camp. Hurray!
Timid Daughter, get this, went to Christian Youth Theater camp. Yep, theater! Believe it or not, both her Dad and I think that she's the most likely of our three to be a performer. She's a natural ham, once she lets down her guard. So it was interesting to watch her progess over the course of the week. She loved the camp, but wasn't so big on their special dress themes. She worked hard every evening to practice the numbers she had learned. It was a tough camp - they had classes on singing, dancing and drama every day and then rehearsal for an hour and a half every afternoon. All that hard work showed once it came to the final performance on Friday. She did great! She sang, she danced and she spoke her line perfectly. Again, who knows if she'll ever go into drama or anything. But she got to try it out. And she tells me she was only a tiny bit nervous going on stage, if that means anything.
The Uber-Princess went to Safety Town to learn about, well, safety. I happen to find it very ironic that somebody ran into my car in the parking lot of Safety Town (and then fled - LMH was in the car waiting for me and witnessed it). Anyway, she learned a lot about safety. I had refused to put my older two in Safety Town when they were her age just out of principal. A friend had been adament that I should do it. I was stubborn and didn't. And after this week I don't regret that choice at all one bit (and no, it's not because of my car). U-P had lots of fun. But every day when she reported what she had done, her sisters chimed in with a "oh yeah, I did that in second grade (or first grade or...)". There were certainly some unique experiences she got - like being able to ride bikes in Safety Town and go inside an ambulance. But most of the material is being taught by the Safety Town folks in the public schools. And now U-P is sleeping with her bedroom door closed all the way, walking her bike across the street instead of riding and pointing out other safety concerns. As long as she doesn't get hyper about it, I'm fine.
As for me, I spent a bunch of Camp Week driving around town. But I did get some time for writing in between stops. And I did get myself signed up for an online writing course this Fall. That's as good as camp for me.
Will we try doing Camp Week next summer? Probably. I really, really enjoyed the evenings when we'd sit around the dinner table and everyone would report on what they had done and learned that day. I loved seeing my girls try something new or learn a new skill. That's a lot of what summer is about. But to me the other thing summer is about is just being free to play and ride bikes and go to the pool and BE. A. KID. So I don't see our family doing more than one camp in a summer.
How about your family? Anyone send their kids away for camp (I've always wondered what this would be like, both for parents and kid)? Anyone sign their kids up for multiple weeks of camp and can tell me the benefits of that ('cuz I'm open to understanding the thoughts behind it - I know there's got to be some good reasons for it)?
Here's a quick summary of our camp week:
LMH went to volleyball camp coached by the vball coaches from her future high school. Way cool for her! And great skill building. She had gone to vball camp last summer with the coaches from the other high school. It was good too. But this time seemed to ignite her interest even more. Maybe it was the fact that a handful of girls from her school were there. Maybe it was the fact that she could actually do the drills with some skill. And maybe it was the fact that she got some extra coaching at home from resident vball player - Dad. Probably it was all three. Who knows how far she'll get in playing volleyball. It's a competitive field in our fair city. We've heard of club players with lots of dedication (and skill?) not get on the high school team. For now, it's her sport and she loved the camp. Hurray!
Timid Daughter, get this, went to Christian Youth Theater camp. Yep, theater! Believe it or not, both her Dad and I think that she's the most likely of our three to be a performer. She's a natural ham, once she lets down her guard. So it was interesting to watch her progess over the course of the week. She loved the camp, but wasn't so big on their special dress themes. She worked hard every evening to practice the numbers she had learned. It was a tough camp - they had classes on singing, dancing and drama every day and then rehearsal for an hour and a half every afternoon. All that hard work showed once it came to the final performance on Friday. She did great! She sang, she danced and she spoke her line perfectly. Again, who knows if she'll ever go into drama or anything. But she got to try it out. And she tells me she was only a tiny bit nervous going on stage, if that means anything.
The Uber-Princess went to Safety Town to learn about, well, safety. I happen to find it very ironic that somebody ran into my car in the parking lot of Safety Town (and then fled - LMH was in the car waiting for me and witnessed it). Anyway, she learned a lot about safety. I had refused to put my older two in Safety Town when they were her age just out of principal. A friend had been adament that I should do it. I was stubborn and didn't. And after this week I don't regret that choice at all one bit (and no, it's not because of my car). U-P had lots of fun. But every day when she reported what she had done, her sisters chimed in with a "oh yeah, I did that in second grade (or first grade or...)". There were certainly some unique experiences she got - like being able to ride bikes in Safety Town and go inside an ambulance. But most of the material is being taught by the Safety Town folks in the public schools. And now U-P is sleeping with her bedroom door closed all the way, walking her bike across the street instead of riding and pointing out other safety concerns. As long as she doesn't get hyper about it, I'm fine.
As for me, I spent a bunch of Camp Week driving around town. But I did get some time for writing in between stops. And I did get myself signed up for an online writing course this Fall. That's as good as camp for me.
Will we try doing Camp Week next summer? Probably. I really, really enjoyed the evenings when we'd sit around the dinner table and everyone would report on what they had done and learned that day. I loved seeing my girls try something new or learn a new skill. That's a lot of what summer is about. But to me the other thing summer is about is just being free to play and ride bikes and go to the pool and BE. A. KID. So I don't see our family doing more than one camp in a summer.
How about your family? Anyone send their kids away for camp (I've always wondered what this would be like, both for parents and kid)? Anyone sign their kids up for multiple weeks of camp and can tell me the benefits of that ('cuz I'm open to understanding the thoughts behind it - I know there's got to be some good reasons for it)?
Friday, July 09, 2010
Summer is NOT Almost Over
There is something about the Fourth of July holiday that compels people (moms mostly) to start talking about how quickly the summer is going by. "It's just flying!" they'll say. And every year, but particularly this summer, I think the same thing. I stand there and listen to everyone talk about the fact that summer is nearly over on July 4th and think to myself, "Really??".
I haven't figured this one out yet, so maybe you (all two blog readers left after my long unexplained absence), can tell me. Why is this? Why do so many people think that with only one month of summer gone and nearly two months left, that summer is nearly over? If my math is right, there are around ninety days of summer (actually, I did a quick count and for my kids this year it is 89 days). And by July 4th, my children will have been out of school for exactly 38 days. That would make the summer 42% over. If you wanna round, you could say it's half over.
I'm a pessimist. I see the glass half empty all the time. But this one really gets me. By July 4th, we've just barely passed the summer solstice and our kids have fifty-one days left to hang around and go to the pool and catch lightening bugs and make smores. Folks, we've really got more time left than we've already had. Why do so many of you go around moaning that it's almost gone?!!! It is not almost gone. What have you been doing all this time that makes you feel like it's slipping through your fingers?
Ah! There it is. For our family, we've packed in a lot of summer fun by July 4th. So to look at all the time that is still left feels like it's not flying by at all. It must be that everyone else has a lot to still do and they don't feel like there's enough time to do it. That's it, right? Otherwise I'm still scratching my head over this one. Never has July 4th been near the end of the summer.
So there you have it. My opinion on summer's duration and July 4th. Yes, I'm still blogging (at least when something irks me enough). And I'm happy to say that I'm looking forward to all of the time we've got left this summer. We've got plenty planned and I hope to enjoy it.
I haven't figured this one out yet, so maybe you (all two blog readers left after my long unexplained absence), can tell me. Why is this? Why do so many people think that with only one month of summer gone and nearly two months left, that summer is nearly over? If my math is right, there are around ninety days of summer (actually, I did a quick count and for my kids this year it is 89 days). And by July 4th, my children will have been out of school for exactly 38 days. That would make the summer 42% over. If you wanna round, you could say it's half over.
I'm a pessimist. I see the glass half empty all the time. But this one really gets me. By July 4th, we've just barely passed the summer solstice and our kids have fifty-one days left to hang around and go to the pool and catch lightening bugs and make smores. Folks, we've really got more time left than we've already had. Why do so many of you go around moaning that it's almost gone?!!! It is not almost gone. What have you been doing all this time that makes you feel like it's slipping through your fingers?
Ah! There it is. For our family, we've packed in a lot of summer fun by July 4th. So to look at all the time that is still left feels like it's not flying by at all. It must be that everyone else has a lot to still do and they don't feel like there's enough time to do it. That's it, right? Otherwise I'm still scratching my head over this one. Never has July 4th been near the end of the summer.
So there you have it. My opinion on summer's duration and July 4th. Yes, I'm still blogging (at least when something irks me enough). And I'm happy to say that I'm looking forward to all of the time we've got left this summer. We've got plenty planned and I hope to enjoy it.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Summer Reading (as if!)
Summer to me, at its best, is about devouring books. It's about finding a cozy hammock or lawn chair or pool lounger and immersing myself in another world. As a child and young teen I could spend hours upon hours reading. Now? I'm happy to sneak a brief quarter- or half-hour stint of reading while the kids play. Which has been so frustrating given the material I've had in my hands for the past week or so. Cynthia Ruchti's book They Almost Always Come Home had me by the throat from the moment I read the back cover copy. And it didn't disappoint. I would have loved to have had long stretches of those old summer days to read it in one sitting. But it was still just as good in bits and snatches. Looking for a fun way to pass those empty bits and snatches yourself? Read on:
ABOUT THE BOOK:
(Wausau, WI) – At the foundation of each relationship resides the need to know love can survive even when feelings fade. In Cynthia Ruchti’s debut novel, They Almost Always Come Home, readers feel the desperation of this foundational yearning in a marriage clearly pulling loose from its moorings. Compounded by other issues—an unrewarding career and mismatched dreams—it’s enough to drive a man into the arms of the Canadian wilderness. When Greg Holden doesn’t return home from a wilderness canoe trip, his wife Libby wrestles with survivor guilt, a new layer of grief, and the belief that she was supposed to know how to fix her marriage. She planned to leave him—but how can she leave a man who’s no longer there? He was supposed to go fishing, not missing.
Libby has to find him before she can discover how their marriage ends. She plunges into the wilderness on an adventurous and risky manhunt, unsure what she will do if she finds him…or if she doesn’t. She expects to meet hardship, discomfort, and danger in the wilderness. She doesn’t expect to face the stark reality of her spiritual longing and a faint, but steady pulse that promises hope for reviving her marriage. If Greg’s still alive.
They Almost Always Come Home provides a glimpse into common, however uncomfortable, marital conflicts. Cynthia weaves a page-turning story, suspense building scene by scene. Her characters mirror ordinary people, living real-to-life situations, allowing readers to relate and sort through a myriad of emotions and life decisions. If fiction can contain adventure, riveting self-awareness, and romance all between the same covers, this is the book!
Cynthia Ruchti writes stories of “hope that glows in the dark.” She writes and produces The Heartbeat of the Home, a syndicated drama/devotional radio broadcast, and is editor for the ministry’s Backyard Friends magazine. She also serves as current president of American Christian Fiction Writers. Cynthia married her childhood sweetheart, who tells his own tales of wilderness adventures.
The Interview:
1. How would you describe your book?
The tagline for the book is “She’d leave her husband…if she could find him.”
When Libby’s husband Greg doesn’t return from a two-week canoe trip to the Canadian wilderness, the authorities write off his disappearance as an unhappy husband’s escape from an oatmeal marriage and mind-numbing career. Their marriage might have survived if their daughter Lacey hadn’t died and if Greg hadn’t been responsible. Libby enlists the aid of her wilderness-savvy father-in-law and her faith-walking best friend to help her search for clues to her husband’s disappearance. What the trio discovers in the wilderness search upends Libby’s assumptions about her husband and rearranges her faith.
It’s my prayer that this fictional adventure story and emotional journey will reveal its own hope-laden clues for those struggling to survive or longing to exit what they believe are uninspiring marriages. How can a woman survive a season or a lifetime when she finds it difficult to like the man she loves?
2. How were you different as a writer and as a person when you finished writing They Almost Always Come Home?
This book changed me in a profound way. It forced me to take a more honest look at myself and my reactions to crises so I could write Libby’s character with authenticity. Libby is a composite of many women. I haven’t experienced what she did, but I identify with some of her struggles and longings, as I hope my readers will. I see my friends in her eyes and know that her tears aren’t hers alone. Her shining moments feed my courage. Libby speaks for me and for many others when she discovers that she is stronger than she realized and weaker than she wanted to admit.
Writing her story was a journey for the author as much as for the character.
3. What did you feel the tug on your heart to become a writer?
My journey toward a lifetime of writing began by reading books that stirred me, changed me, convinced me that imagination is a gift from an imaginative Creator. As a child, I read when I should have been sleeping…and still do. I couldn’t wait for the BookMobile (library on wheels) to pull up in front of the post office in our small town and open its arms to me. Somewhere between the pages of a book, my heart warmed to the idea that one day I too might tell stories that made readers stay up past their bedtimes.
4. What books line your bookshelves?
My bookshelves—don’t ask how many!—hold a wide variety of genres. The collection expands faster than a good yeast dough. I’m a mood reader, grabbing a light comedy one day and a literarily rich work the next. Although I appreciate well-written nonfiction, I gravitate toward an emotionally engaging contemporary women’s fiction story.
Somthing Extra From the Author's Heart
Ten years ago, my husband almost didn’t come home. His canoe adventure with our son Matt soured on Day Two when Bill grew violently ill from what we presume was either pancreatitis or a gall bladder attack. He’s an insulin-dependent diabetic, so any grave illness is a threat. One in the middle of the Canadian wilderness is morgue material.
With no satellite phone with which to call for help, Matt took turns caring for his father and watching the shore for other canoeists happening past their hastily constructed campsite. The few other canoes were headed deeper into the remote areas of the park, not on their way out. None had a satellite phone. And none of them were doctors.
As my husband grew sicker, his diabetes went nuclear. He couldn’t eat, yet needed insulin because his liver thought it should help out by dumping vast quantities of sugar into his system. Even in a hospital setting, the situation would have been difficult to control, and the nearest hospital was light years away across vast stretches of water and woodland, through peopleless, roadless wilderness.
Our son stretched a yellow tarp across the rocks on shore and wrote S.O.S. with charcoal from a dead fire. He scratched out countless notes on pieces of notebook paper torn from their trip journal:
Send rescue! My dad is deathly ill.
Read the rest of the story at the KCWC BLOG
Full Disclosure: I received a copy of They Almost Always Come Home from Kathy Carlton Willis Communications. Shows how lucky I am, huh? And lucky for you too, because now you've got a great book to add to your list of summer reading that you might not have otherwise thought of. So there 'ya go!
ABOUT THE BOOK:(Wausau, WI) – At the foundation of each relationship resides the need to know love can survive even when feelings fade. In Cynthia Ruchti’s debut novel, They Almost Always Come Home, readers feel the desperation of this foundational yearning in a marriage clearly pulling loose from its moorings. Compounded by other issues—an unrewarding career and mismatched dreams—it’s enough to drive a man into the arms of the Canadian wilderness. When Greg Holden doesn’t return home from a wilderness canoe trip, his wife Libby wrestles with survivor guilt, a new layer of grief, and the belief that she was supposed to know how to fix her marriage. She planned to leave him—but how can she leave a man who’s no longer there? He was supposed to go fishing, not missing.
Libby has to find him before she can discover how their marriage ends. She plunges into the wilderness on an adventurous and risky manhunt, unsure what she will do if she finds him…or if she doesn’t. She expects to meet hardship, discomfort, and danger in the wilderness. She doesn’t expect to face the stark reality of her spiritual longing and a faint, but steady pulse that promises hope for reviving her marriage. If Greg’s still alive.
They Almost Always Come Home provides a glimpse into common, however uncomfortable, marital conflicts. Cynthia weaves a page-turning story, suspense building scene by scene. Her characters mirror ordinary people, living real-to-life situations, allowing readers to relate and sort through a myriad of emotions and life decisions. If fiction can contain adventure, riveting self-awareness, and romance all between the same covers, this is the book!
Cynthia Ruchti writes stories of “hope that glows in the dark.” She writes and produces The Heartbeat of the Home, a syndicated drama/devotional radio broadcast, and is editor for the ministry’s Backyard Friends magazine. She also serves as current president of American Christian Fiction Writers. Cynthia married her childhood sweetheart, who tells his own tales of wilderness adventures.
The Interview:
1. How would you describe your book?
The tagline for the book is “She’d leave her husband…if she could find him.”
When Libby’s husband Greg doesn’t return from a two-week canoe trip to the Canadian wilderness, the authorities write off his disappearance as an unhappy husband’s escape from an oatmeal marriage and mind-numbing career. Their marriage might have survived if their daughter Lacey hadn’t died and if Greg hadn’t been responsible. Libby enlists the aid of her wilderness-savvy father-in-law and her faith-walking best friend to help her search for clues to her husband’s disappearance. What the trio discovers in the wilderness search upends Libby’s assumptions about her husband and rearranges her faith.
It’s my prayer that this fictional adventure story and emotional journey will reveal its own hope-laden clues for those struggling to survive or longing to exit what they believe are uninspiring marriages. How can a woman survive a season or a lifetime when she finds it difficult to like the man she loves?
2. How were you different as a writer and as a person when you finished writing They Almost Always Come Home?
This book changed me in a profound way. It forced me to take a more honest look at myself and my reactions to crises so I could write Libby’s character with authenticity. Libby is a composite of many women. I haven’t experienced what she did, but I identify with some of her struggles and longings, as I hope my readers will. I see my friends in her eyes and know that her tears aren’t hers alone. Her shining moments feed my courage. Libby speaks for me and for many others when she discovers that she is stronger than she realized and weaker than she wanted to admit.
Writing her story was a journey for the author as much as for the character.
3. What did you feel the tug on your heart to become a writer?
My journey toward a lifetime of writing began by reading books that stirred me, changed me, convinced me that imagination is a gift from an imaginative Creator. As a child, I read when I should have been sleeping…and still do. I couldn’t wait for the BookMobile (library on wheels) to pull up in front of the post office in our small town and open its arms to me. Somewhere between the pages of a book, my heart warmed to the idea that one day I too might tell stories that made readers stay up past their bedtimes.
4. What books line your bookshelves?
My bookshelves—don’t ask how many!—hold a wide variety of genres. The collection expands faster than a good yeast dough. I’m a mood reader, grabbing a light comedy one day and a literarily rich work the next. Although I appreciate well-written nonfiction, I gravitate toward an emotionally engaging contemporary women’s fiction story.
Somthing Extra From the Author's Heart
Ten years ago, my husband almost didn’t come home. His canoe adventure with our son Matt soured on Day Two when Bill grew violently ill from what we presume was either pancreatitis or a gall bladder attack. He’s an insulin-dependent diabetic, so any grave illness is a threat. One in the middle of the Canadian wilderness is morgue material.
With no satellite phone with which to call for help, Matt took turns caring for his father and watching the shore for other canoeists happening past their hastily constructed campsite. The few other canoes were headed deeper into the remote areas of the park, not on their way out. None had a satellite phone. And none of them were doctors.
As my husband grew sicker, his diabetes went nuclear. He couldn’t eat, yet needed insulin because his liver thought it should help out by dumping vast quantities of sugar into his system. Even in a hospital setting, the situation would have been difficult to control, and the nearest hospital was light years away across vast stretches of water and woodland, through peopleless, roadless wilderness.
Our son stretched a yellow tarp across the rocks on shore and wrote S.O.S. with charcoal from a dead fire. He scratched out countless notes on pieces of notebook paper torn from their trip journal:
Send rescue! My dad is deathly ill.
Read the rest of the story at the KCWC BLOG
Full Disclosure: I received a copy of They Almost Always Come Home from Kathy Carlton Willis Communications. Shows how lucky I am, huh? And lucky for you too, because now you've got a great book to add to your list of summer reading that you might not have otherwise thought of. So there 'ya go!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
A Sweet Mail Delivery
I arrived home last night from a long weekend with LMH & Timid Daughter in New York City (more on that to come in a later post). We crammed in a quick rundown of our weekend during the car ride home with AmusingDad and the Uber-Princess. We followed that with a swift distribution of gifts - from us to the two left behind and from Uber-Princess to me for Mother's Day. Finally, once the exhausted travelers and their sister were snug in bed I set to sorting through the things that had accumulated in my absence. Among them was a mystery box sent priority mail. I hadn't been expecting anything, so it piqued my curiosity. Turns out, it's one of the sweetest packages I've ever received. Wanna see?
Yes, that's really a carefully wrapped, styrofoam-protected bottle of syrup. Funny, isn't it? I mean, how many people get bottles of syrup sent to them from the manufacturer? Turns out that this one came because I'd called some months ago about a defective cap. It had been threaded wrong so that the opening/pour spout ended up on the side toward the handle. It wouldn't go on any other way. Which made it impossible to use. It was probably due to a glitch in manufacturing, but I thought they should know. I wasn't complaining since I'd been able to switch the bad cap with one from another bottle. I just wanted to pass on what I'd discovered in case they need to fix the glitch.
So now I'm on their list - the list of people they send free bottles of syrup with newly designed caps and ask for feedback. I don't mind. I happen to really like this brand of syrup. And if the new cap is drip-proof like they say, then I'll like it even more.
That's all for now. I have to get back to the loads of laundry and backlog of emails. But tell me, have you ever gotten an interesting mystery box in your mail? If so, what was it?
Yes, that's really a carefully wrapped, styrofoam-protected bottle of syrup. Funny, isn't it? I mean, how many people get bottles of syrup sent to them from the manufacturer? Turns out that this one came because I'd called some months ago about a defective cap. It had been threaded wrong so that the opening/pour spout ended up on the side toward the handle. It wouldn't go on any other way. Which made it impossible to use. It was probably due to a glitch in manufacturing, but I thought they should know. I wasn't complaining since I'd been able to switch the bad cap with one from another bottle. I just wanted to pass on what I'd discovered in case they need to fix the glitch.So now I'm on their list - the list of people they send free bottles of syrup with newly designed caps and ask for feedback. I don't mind. I happen to really like this brand of syrup. And if the new cap is drip-proof like they say, then I'll like it even more.
That's all for now. I have to get back to the loads of laundry and backlog of emails. But tell me, have you ever gotten an interesting mystery box in your mail? If so, what was it?
Friday, April 30, 2010
New Food Allotment Standard
Have you noticed the new packaging for old foods? Lately there's arisen some 100-calorie craze. I think it started with cookies and stuff (I am particularly fond of the Oreo 100-calorie packs). And then I noticed the dried cranberries 100-calorie packs. Now the latest are packages of Kraft processed cheese squares (no, I did not notice that they were processed when I bought them or maybe I wouldn't have - a friend pointed that out). Apparently 100-calories equals something like six bite-sized squares of cheese. I'm wondering what food they'll dole out next in these small amounts.
And what makes 100-calories the magical number? Admitedly, it is a very visible and easy method of portion control. But really, who eats just one 100-calorie pack for a meal? There's everything else that you're not measuring out that adds up fast. Of course, this may be a conspiracy to package all of our foods in little packets and have us eating each part of our meal in systematic 100-calorie bits. Feels a bit Huxlian to me.
Also it runs terribly afoul of the whole green movement. The packaging is a virtual environmental nightmare. Inside each multi-pack box or bag are a half-dozen or so little packages. Yikes! How long before protestors notice and start saying something?
The whole thing has me scratching my head. Does it really work? I suppose when it was just the cookies I was feeling pretty good about myself because I could limit my snacking to a mere 100-calories. And perhaps that's the aim with the cheese bits too - that snackers control how much they munch on cheese. Beyond snacking though, it doesn't make any sense.
Anyone gotten hooked on the 100-calorie trend? I'm wondering if people have worked this new packaging into their diet. Does it work? Does it make you want to buy things because you can eat them 100-calories at a time?
And what makes 100-calories the magical number? Admitedly, it is a very visible and easy method of portion control. But really, who eats just one 100-calorie pack for a meal? There's everything else that you're not measuring out that adds up fast. Of course, this may be a conspiracy to package all of our foods in little packets and have us eating each part of our meal in systematic 100-calorie bits. Feels a bit Huxlian to me.
Also it runs terribly afoul of the whole green movement. The packaging is a virtual environmental nightmare. Inside each multi-pack box or bag are a half-dozen or so little packages. Yikes! How long before protestors notice and start saying something?
The whole thing has me scratching my head. Does it really work? I suppose when it was just the cookies I was feeling pretty good about myself because I could limit my snacking to a mere 100-calories. And perhaps that's the aim with the cheese bits too - that snackers control how much they munch on cheese. Beyond snacking though, it doesn't make any sense.
Anyone gotten hooked on the 100-calorie trend? I'm wondering if people have worked this new packaging into their diet. Does it work? Does it make you want to buy things because you can eat them 100-calories at a time?
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Your Laugh for Today
If you are the mom of a preschooler or have ever been the mom of a preschooler or even just know a preschooler, you might want to check out an essay of mine that MOPS.org is running on their website about some things I've noticed about the perils of public restrooms. You can find it here.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Living on a Budget
Can you believe that my husband and I lived without a budget for most of the past 14 years? How did we do it? Well, I guess we both mostly just tried not to spend much and tried to save lots. It worked fine since our bank balance always stayed positive. Sure, we did have fun and splurge from time to time, but there wasn't a plan for it.
Then in February I read Dave Ramsey's book, The Total Money Makeover. For the first time ever, we spent the month of March living on a budget. At least I did. I'm not sure about my husband. He looked at the budget I prepared and contributed to deciding on the final numbers. But I don't know if he really paid attention to his spending. The good news is, it did seem to work. The numbers mostly balanced at the end of the month (with a little tweaking here and there). So for April we have another budget to live on.
It's definitely been a learning process. Here's what I've noticed so far:
On the whole, it feels good to have a plan. We're on our way to controlling our money better and directing it to where we really want it to go. Sure, you can't change the course of a river overnight, but bit by bit you can channel it in a new direction. That's what I hope living on a budget will do.
Anyone else have thoughts on budgets? Budget or no budget? What do you do?
Then in February I read Dave Ramsey's book, The Total Money Makeover. For the first time ever, we spent the month of March living on a budget. At least I did. I'm not sure about my husband. He looked at the budget I prepared and contributed to deciding on the final numbers. But I don't know if he really paid attention to his spending. The good news is, it did seem to work. The numbers mostly balanced at the end of the month (with a little tweaking here and there). So for April we have another budget to live on.
It's definitely been a learning process. Here's what I've noticed so far:
- if you think that $5 for prescriptions is a totally reasonable amount to budget because nobody. ever. gets. sick. you can plan on at least two trips to the pharmacy in the first week, one of which is for your own allergy medicine that completely blows the budget, even with insurance.
- pharmacy coupons go a long way in making up for unexpected expenses and after two trips and two good coupons, you may manage to stick to your budget after all. Having a budget means you get to pat yourself on the back for such dollar wrangling.
- there are so many odds and ends of expenses that you never notice if you don't have a budget. Like yet another field trip to pay for. Or new soccer shoes for your growing fifth-grader. Or that whopping pool club maintenance fee that is due this month, but you weren't thinking about because who in Illinois is thinking about swimming in April???
- if you have to account for spending only what you have available and it looks tight, you'll become very creative in finding money. Your dining out fund is already drained for the month? Gee, maybe it's time to use that restaurant gift card that's been languishing in a desk drawer. And hey, how about cashing in the credit card reward refund check while you're at it. That counts toward more money to spend, right?
On the whole, it feels good to have a plan. We're on our way to controlling our money better and directing it to where we really want it to go. Sure, you can't change the course of a river overnight, but bit by bit you can channel it in a new direction. That's what I hope living on a budget will do.
Anyone else have thoughts on budgets? Budget or no budget? What do you do?
Monday, March 22, 2010
Dwindling Choices
After a trip to Russia a couple decades ago, a the part of culture shock that I experienced on my return to the U.S. related to the huge amount of choices available to us. Take a trip to the grocery store for a simple gallon of milk and you can see this at work. If you want milk, you can choose from name brand or store brand. And then there's fat free, 1%, 2% or whole milk. Or maybe you'd like organic milk. White or chocolate? Soy or cow? Crazy, isn't it? Or not. It doesn't seem at all crazy to us because it's our world. We learn to navigate the myriad of choices by creating a habit. I buy 2% milk and usually the store brand. So immediately I've narrowed the options available. If I want to change my habit though, I could easily switch to say, organic. After trying a few varieties I would probably narrow in on my preferred brand (or store) and stick with it.
And all the options we have, whether it be car insurance, radio stations, or milk, all stem from the free flow of commerce in a healthy capitalist society. At least that's my take on it (don't quote me, since I'm no economics guru). The thing is, I make this observation because I see the tide flowing the other way as our economy struggles. Our options are dwindling. I used to have four, five or maybe even more, furniture stores I could shop at when I wanted to buy something new for my home. Of those, at least two have closed down in recent years. Across all sectors of goods and services, more and more companies are closing their doors. With them go options.
I mention all of this because I see it happening in what seems to me to be the final frontier - the grocery store. Our local supermarket keeps having clearance sales and not all of them are to clear the shelves for new product. Some are to sell out the remainders from companies whose products will no longer be represented. The shelves remain filled, in an effort to keep up the appearance of continued options. But fact is, we have less to choose from. My usual grocery store no longer carries the pancake mix we like best. And a recent trip for a national brand of peanut butter revealed that it too was gone. I'm used to hunting down rare items (like two-step angel food cake mix and mushroom steak sauce). Now, it appears I'll be hunting down formerly common items.
The Post Russia Trip me would smile smugly and deem the dwindling of choices a return to better proportion. The Frugal Shopper Momma me frowns and wonders how far it will go. And the Politically Unsavvy me begins to understand a little better one side of the debate over health care reform. Choice can be bad when it's an addiction and we can't handle the lack of it. But in general, I think consumers benefit from a variety of options.
And all the options we have, whether it be car insurance, radio stations, or milk, all stem from the free flow of commerce in a healthy capitalist society. At least that's my take on it (don't quote me, since I'm no economics guru). The thing is, I make this observation because I see the tide flowing the other way as our economy struggles. Our options are dwindling. I used to have four, five or maybe even more, furniture stores I could shop at when I wanted to buy something new for my home. Of those, at least two have closed down in recent years. Across all sectors of goods and services, more and more companies are closing their doors. With them go options.
I mention all of this because I see it happening in what seems to me to be the final frontier - the grocery store. Our local supermarket keeps having clearance sales and not all of them are to clear the shelves for new product. Some are to sell out the remainders from companies whose products will no longer be represented. The shelves remain filled, in an effort to keep up the appearance of continued options. But fact is, we have less to choose from. My usual grocery store no longer carries the pancake mix we like best. And a recent trip for a national brand of peanut butter revealed that it too was gone. I'm used to hunting down rare items (like two-step angel food cake mix and mushroom steak sauce). Now, it appears I'll be hunting down formerly common items.
The Post Russia Trip me would smile smugly and deem the dwindling of choices a return to better proportion. The Frugal Shopper Momma me frowns and wonders how far it will go. And the Politically Unsavvy me begins to understand a little better one side of the debate over health care reform. Choice can be bad when it's an addiction and we can't handle the lack of it. But in general, I think consumers benefit from a variety of options.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Too Many Tabs Open
My husband usually rolls his eyes, groans or in some other way, expresses his frustration at me whenever he uses the internet on my computer. "You have too many tabs open", he complains.
I glance over his shoulder to see what can be closed. Then I click on one or two tabs. He rolls his eyes again and I shrug my shoulders back. I can't help it that I'm never sure if I'm done with something. I wonder that if I close a tab, I might need it later and won't find it. Oh, I have a long list of bookmarks. But I rarely use them.
So is it a sign of my scattered mind that I leave all these tabs open? I actually keep a "to do" list and revel in checking things off as I complete them. And I try hard to end the week with everything done. "Try" being the operative word here. You see, I still leave unanswered emails and open tabs. I leave scrapbook supplies on the dining room table and notes on articles I'm writing on the desk. I have stacks of books I'm part way through on the bedside table and sewing projects midway to completion in the guest room closet.
No, I'm not disorganized or even necessarily messy. I have my "to do" lists to keep me from that. Most of those piles and stacks are only a week or two (at most a month) old. I just have more going at any one time than I can completely finish. Hence my plethora of tabs. All those tabs allow me a sense of control where I might feel out of control. As long as I can see it all there, I know I'll get to it sometime. Right?
I glance over his shoulder to see what can be closed. Then I click on one or two tabs. He rolls his eyes again and I shrug my shoulders back. I can't help it that I'm never sure if I'm done with something. I wonder that if I close a tab, I might need it later and won't find it. Oh, I have a long list of bookmarks. But I rarely use them.
So is it a sign of my scattered mind that I leave all these tabs open? I actually keep a "to do" list and revel in checking things off as I complete them. And I try hard to end the week with everything done. "Try" being the operative word here. You see, I still leave unanswered emails and open tabs. I leave scrapbook supplies on the dining room table and notes on articles I'm writing on the desk. I have stacks of books I'm part way through on the bedside table and sewing projects midway to completion in the guest room closet.
No, I'm not disorganized or even necessarily messy. I have my "to do" lists to keep me from that. Most of those piles and stacks are only a week or two (at most a month) old. I just have more going at any one time than I can completely finish. Hence my plethora of tabs. All those tabs allow me a sense of control where I might feel out of control. As long as I can see it all there, I know I'll get to it sometime. Right?
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