Sisters

We've got each other's back...
(My sis and I circa 1971. Yes, I'm the one on the bottom... that time, anyway!)

The Other Victims

(I wrote this in 2003. Sadly, it is still relevant today).

"Abortion 1. The expulsion of a human fetus within the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, before it is viable."
"Viable 1b. (of a fetus) having reached such a stage of development as to be capable of living, under normal conditions, outside the uterus."
"Victim 2. A person who is deceived or cheated, as by his own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others or by some impersonal agency; a victim of misplaced confidence (Random House Dictionary, 1967.).
Women are being duped. When they are at their most vulnerable, they are lied to about a procedure that can steal their peace of mind, their health and even their lives. They are being cheated out of their children's lives. They are abortion's other victims.
I was twelve years old in 1973, when Roe v. Wade passed, and I remember all the slogans. The biggie was that a woman should have a right to choose what happens to her own body. Unfortunately, no one seemed concerned with responsibility for her body. Up until now a woman had the right to choose whether to have sex or not. She did this with the full understanding of the potential consequences, and when the inevitable happened, she took responsibility for the child that resulted, too. But someone started thinking it wasn't fair for the man not to have to be responsible for his part of the party, and rather than deciding the price of casual sex was too high, women decided there shouldn't be any consequences for anyone. So definitions began to be rewritten. Suddenly this child growing within her was no longer a child. It was a fetus, a product of conception, a part of her body that she could do with as she chose. And now the woman could be free, too, right?
But that has not been the reality at all. Women are still the ones who get pregnant, but now a man doesn't have to decide whether to marry her and support her and his child, or just pay child support for 18 years. No, now the man has a choice! He can use his considerable influence over her and insist she get an abortion or he's leaving. Far too often it is not the woman, who often is a very young woman, who chooses what happens to her, her body or her unborn child. I was discussing this concept with a classmate in one of my classes, and she unexpectedly said, "Yeah, I know all about that. When I was 17, my mother forced me to have an abortion. Two days before Christmas! I'm 34 now, and I'm just starting to be able to deal with it" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Hey, that happened to me, too," the girl sitting next to her spoke up. "I was 16. My dad said he'd disown me if I didn't do it, and my boyfriend said he would have nothing to do with me or the baby otherwise. And they were so mean to me (at the clinic)! They didn't counsel me, and they said it would be no big deal, but it hurt! Really bad for a long time" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Yes," added the first girl, "and not just physically, either," pointing to her head significantly.
The truth is that abortion is big business. Those "back alley butchers" of the past were just bad doctors making a little money on the side. Now they can make a lot of money legally. That doesn't make them better doctors. It seems when money or power is involved many people forget about the people they are hurting. Planned Parenthood used to be against abortion. In 1963, they put out a pamphlet called 'Plan Your Children' that stated, "An abortion kills the life of a baby after is has begun. It is dangerous to your life and health." Just when did it become a safe procedure that simply disposed of the product of conception? The politicians sway with the winds on what they 'believe' about abortion, too. Al Gore used to be staunchly pro-life, and now he hotly denies his past voting record. Rep. Richard Gephardt (D-Mo.), Sen. Edward Kennedy (D-Mass), President Bill Clinton, and Senator Jesse Jackson all wrote letters, gave speeches, and even wrote an article for National Right to Life (J. Jackson), supporting life beginning at conception, opposing government funding for abortion, and talking about the dangers of abortion. This was as late as 1986, but all of them turned their back on it when it didn't suit them politically to support life (2001).
Women going in a clinic to get an abortion are not told the truth about what's going on there. They are not told about the developmental stage of their baby, or even the fact that it is a baby. No one explains that this baby is implanted in the uterus long before they even know they are pregnant, and it depends on its mother for nourishment and safety in order to grow to full size. They are told how much trouble it would be to have a baby, and how easy and sensible it is to just get rid of it now. They aren't told how beautiful this little baby is, just that it is a blob. I know firsthand that this is not true, because I saw my perfect, tiny, dead baby after I miscarried at 18 weeks. This was a baby, like a child's doll, small and perfectly formed. Nathan's tiny eyes were still sealed shut, and his skin was translucent, with blood vessels showing through. His ears were like little pink shells, and he had a tiny rosebud mouth, like Cupid's bow. He had ten little fingers and ten little toes, and he had the sweetest face. He was big enough to hold. He was not ready to live outside of my womb, and that is the whole reason he was in there. Not viable is not the same as not living. We are not viable if taken out of earth's atmosphere without a spaceship, which is why we have the spaceship!
But the women are not told any of this. They are told they will have a simple procedure and the problem will be solved. The reality is that the procedure is very invasive, scary and painful. Sometimes they can hear the vacuum, and they can certainly feel it. It is psychologically horrifying. They hurt, inside and out, and it suddenly hits them just what they are doing. But it's too late and then its time to go home. Often the women are in severe pain with cramping, nausea, and severe bleeding. Sometimes they can't even walk for a day or two, and it can take weeks before it doesn't hurt physically anymore. Mentally, it takes much, much longer. And for far too many women, there are serious complications.
Women are told that abortions are safe now, but that is not entirely true. In 1983 the U.S. Bureau of Vital Statistics provided data showing that the advent of penicillin in the 1950's and 1960's correlated to a dramatic drop in maternal deaths, well before abortion was legalized. Abortions did not become safer with legalization, but instead with the advent of penicillin to fight infection (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And still, there are many complications that no one seems to want to admit to. If most women realized the severe consequences that can occur from an abortion they might think twice about it. Even the big medical centers have complications regularly, and most abortions take place in free-standing clinics with a much lower standard of care. One doctor wrote in the OB/GYN Observer that "87% of 486 obstetricians and gynecologists had to hospitalize at least one patient this year due to complications of legal abortions" (Bulfin, 1975). Bleeding can be severe, and women can become anemic and even need blood transfusions. Infection is a common complication, and so is perforation of the uterus, or scarring of the fallopian tubes. These things are not only painful, but often lead to sterility (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998).
One pro-abortion professor of OB/GYN did a follow-up study of 50 teenagers that he had performed abortions on. He pointed out that a teenager's cervix, with a first pregnancy, is always small and tightly closed and very easy to damage with forced dilatation. He said the results of his study were dismal, considering what happened with their 53 subsequent pregnancies. "Six had another induced abortion. Nineteen had spontaneous miscarriages. One delivered a stillborn baby at 6 months. Six babies died between birth and 2 years. Twenty-one babies survived" (Russell, 1974).
But many doctors point out that for a teenager under 16 there are no more complications of pregnancy than for older women, and for 15 to 17 year olds it may even be safer than for those in their 20's (McAnarney, 1978, Hopkins, 1980, Sutton-Smith, 1979, Sukanich, et al., 1986).
Some doctors are beginning to find a possible correlation between abortion and breast cancer, with one doctor on the news noting that breast cancer used to be a disease mainly for older women.
But there are other complications that are just as devastating. Many people, truly compassionate people, want to help the frightened young mother so badly that they convince her that abortion is no big deal, and will take her out of her seemingly impossible situation and restore things back to the way they were. And she, desperate, wants to believe them. So she closes her ears to the voice screaming inside her that this is her child she is killing, and she has the procedure, often being told it is the only responsible thing to do. Sometimes, she even feels relief at first that she no longer has to try to figure everything out, like where to live, how to survive, and how to get through school on her own with a baby to raise. But the long term effects can lead to self-hatred, anxiety, anger, and substance abuse. And it leads to violence against children.
"There is a clear statistical association between increased rates of abortion and increased rates of child abuse. Indeed, statistical and clinical research support not only an association, but a causal connection between abortion and subsequent child abuse" (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Remember the slogan, "Every child a wanted child!" Somehow killing the ones we didn't want would make the lucky ones that we wanted better off somehow. Since so many babies have died, I wish that slogan were true. It would be nice to think that some kind of good had come out of all of this. Unfortunately, the rate of child abuse has risen dramatically over the past 25 years. Experts say that between 1976 and 1987 alone, 330% more child abuse was reported (Burke & Reardon, 1998). It is tragic, but not all that surprising. Did we really think that cheapening the life of children, so that they weren't even safe in their mother's wombs, would make us more caring and willing to sacrifice for the ones we let live? Parenting is about the hardest thing we commit to, being totally responsible for a weak, dependent, ever-present child. It takes self-sacrifice and that is the opposite of what abortion stands for. Women and men, even grandparents, who are not willing to make any concessions for one child cannot be depended on to have developed enough responsibility to give another the enormous amounts of care he needs. And the inhibitions have been broken down.
But there is another, less obvious, reason for the rise in child abuse. This is from guilt. Sometimes it hits right away, at the clinic even, and the woman feels guilty, empty, shamed and terrified. I can understand how this might happen. I had a miscarriage and I spent an awful lot of time blaming myself. I must have done something wrong, or my baby would be alive. Is it because I was worried about how I would cope with three babies at once (my other two were only 1 1/2 and 2 1/2)? Didn't I want it enough? Did I eat the wrong thing? Lift something heavy? What? I was angry, too, at the doctors, for not realizing what was going on when I went in that day. I felt I had to make it up somehow, help other children, something. We took on a foster child, partly because I was "supposed" to have three boys, not two. I still feel guilty sometimes, still think that he would be 19, wondering what would he be like, wishing I could have held him,thinking what it felt like when I was carrying him. So I can only imagine if I had deliberately caused his demise. I don't think I could live with myself, and many of these women can't either. They sink into depression, and have trouble relating to their surviving children. They see other babies and cry. And sometimes far worse things happen.
Psychiatrist Phillip Ney, M.D. has done a great deal of research into the link between abortion and child abuse. He has seen that abortion disrupts the bonding with other children and weakens the maternal instinct. Also, there is reduced inhibitions against violence, particularly against children. There is heightened levels of anger, rage and depression among post-abortive women (1988). Sometimes this is recognized as the trauma of abortion and counseling has been offered. Through this counseling, disturbing things have come to light. Counselors have recognized a syndrome, known as PAS, or Post Abortion Syndrome, that is very similar to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, seen up to ten years after the war in Vietnam vets. (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.). Counselors are beginning to see a clinical reliving of the cause of the pain. While the mind tries to deal with it by reliving it over and over, it also tries to protect you from it by hiding the cause. What this has led to is women playing out scenarios of hurting their children, and the ensuing shame and punishment, and it horrifies them. One woman kept thinking about poisoning her children, and when she was asked to describe her abortion, she described it as poisoning the fetus. Yet she never made the connection. Many women feel a need to "make it up" to the baby by helping other babies, and open daycares, only to fantasize about or even hurt by shaking, these children, then feeling the guilt again like when they had an abortion. (Burke, T. & Reardon, D., 1988). It is only through grief counseling that these women are able to get through this so that their children are not in danger. But those who don't get counseling can carry through in ways you've heard about on the news. One woman killed her three year old son, and in court began talking about how she'd known the abortion she'd had the day before was wrong, and she should be punished. Another woman jumped off of a bridge with her children, and said later that she was trying to reunite her family (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Suicide is a result of PAS also, since symptoms include guilt, regret, shame, remorse, lowered self-esteem, insomnia, dreams and nightmares, flash backs, and even hostility and hatred toward men, including her husband. This can lead to hopelessness and suicide (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.).
"The suicide rate after an abortion was three times the general suicide rate and six times that associated with birth...the rate for women following a live birth was 5.9 per 100,000; following miscarriage 18.1; following abortion 34.7" (Gissler, 1996).
Abortion, touted as a necessary choice to help women with their lives, leads to nothing but death. Thirty million babies have died, with all of their contributions to society silenced with them (Stevenson, Dr. K, 1998). Countless other babies have never been born due to sterility caused by abortions. Mothers die, too, emotionally and physically. The Centers for Disease Control grossly underreported these maternal deaths for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is "that a large percentage of CDC employees have direct ties to the abortion industry" (Crutcher, M., n.d.). Also, most abortions take place in clinics, but if there are complications such as hemorrhaging, infection, perforated uterus, blood clot, blood transfusion, salt poisoning, amniotic fluid embolism, drop in blood clotting ability, or even suicide, they are sent to hospitals, and the attending doctor lists the complication as the cause of death. Some of these deaths take place a while after the abortion and the connection is not always made (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And there are other kinds of death: the death of trust between other children and their mother, the trust between a woman and the father of her baby, and the trust a woman had in her own parents. Whether the woman decides to go through with the abortion over their protests or whether they force her into it, someone has lost a child or a grandchild, and other children have lost siblings.
Women have been lied to, causing great harm to them. They have been tricked into having even less choice than before. They have been cheated out of their own children. Abortion is not a solution. It is a destroyer, and women are its victims. But it doesn't have to stay that way. We can't undo what we have done, but we can certainly stop inflicting this pain on so many millions. We don't have to keep lying to our young women. We can take responsibility now and tell the truth about abortion. There are many caring people and organizations that not only oppose abortion, but spend a tremendous amount of time volunteering to help counsel and heal women who are suffering from the results of abortion. I am proud to say that a great many of them are Christian, but those aren't the only voices opposing abortion. The horror this is causing has come to the attention of groups as diverse as Priests for Life to the Atheist and Agnostic Pro-life League, and they are all starting to band together against the devastation. Abortion doctors have recanted their profession and are speaking out about the truth of what is really happening in those clinics (Priests for Life, n.d.) Brave, sad young women have begun writing their heartbreaking stories for others to read, so that maybe someone else will be spared their incredible pain. I believe women should be able to make informed choices about what they do, both with their bodies and their children, and they can't do that without knowing the truth.

(References provided on request)

Swimming Lessons

I stood shivering in the morning sun, eagerly awaiting my turn to get in the pool. Would this be the day? Would I finally do it?
“Listen to your teacher, Tracie,” my mother reminded me as she went to sit with the other parents. My sister was already splashing in another section of the pool with her more advanced class. My teacher gave me some last minute instructions and then it was my turn! Swim cap firmly in place, I slipped into the cool, shallow water with a sense of nervous anticipation. Would I finally be able to swim to the other side of the pool without stopping?
My mother, who couldn’t swim, insisted on lessons at the age of five. My sister had begun her lessons in Madison, Indiana at a pool within sight of the Ohio River. Sometimes we heard the calliope of the Delta Queen, an opulent paddlewheel steamboat. We would all go running down to the banks of the river in our swimsuits to watch it go by. But by the time I was five, we lived in Florida. We often played in Lion’s Park. From the top of the giraffe ladder I could see children splashing in the public pool across the street. That’s where my mother signed me up for my swimming lessons.
On the first day, my teacher had me get in the shallow end. “Okay, now hold on to the edge of the pool and lie down in the water. Gently, now, just let the water hold you up!” The sensation of the cool water licking my sun-warmed skin in random patterns was delightful! “Okay, good. Now kick your legs!” my teacher instructed. This I did with vigor and abandon, until my teacher got my attention again and began teaching me the finer points of straight legs and flexible knees. I worked hard at making my legs into useful tools. “Legs close together,” my teacher said, and I pretended I was a mermaid.
“Great, Tracie. Now it’s time to put your face in the water!” she said with enthusiasm. I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. She taught me to hold my breath, turn my face from side to side, and breathe. I soon got the hang of it, still holding securely to the edge of the pool. This wasn’t so bad! At least as long as no one kicked or splashed too much, which made the water rock against me alarmingly. And then she was telling me to let go of the edge.
The moment of truth. Could I let go of the edge of the pool without sinking like a great, wet ball of fear straight to the bottom? With a good deal of coaxing from my patient teacher and the success of the other children giving me courage, I found that I could. I floated like a jellyfish for awhile. Then I began to learn to paddle.
The days flew by and the time for our final test came. I must swim from one side of the pool to the other without stopping. Swelled up with confidence in my hard won skills, I plunged in and started across, not listening to my teacher or anyone else. I got about a third of the way before realizing to my great surprise that I could go no further.
When my second turn came I was humbled and a little demoralized. This caused me to listen more closely, but secretly I was sure I couldn’t do it, so of course I couldn’t. I got about half way before I gave up. I felt I was letting everyone down. I didn’t care for the slightly contemptuous pity my sister offered!
The time came for a third try. I listened carefully to my teacher’s instructions. As I and all my butterflies slid into the water, I was aware that my swim cap was too tight, the rubber squeezing my head and tilting my eyes back slightly. I didn’t dare adjust it. If any of my hair escaped I’d have to get out of the pool. Soon it didn’t matter anyway. It was nearly my turn and I was listening to everyone screaming encouragement to the child in front of me. I noticed my mother, smiling sympathetically at me as only a mother can, and I resolved to see pride in her eyes when I was done. Then it was my turn.
As I breathed deeply, my teacher shouted a few last instructions. I slid down on my stomach into the water and began to swim. Sound dimmed as I concentrated on moving my arms in the prescribed manner, pulling myself through the water. Kick, kick, propel. Legs straight! Breathe, breathe, turn my head. Suddenly I touched the other side and sound burst back into my ears. People were cheering, rushing over to me, the sun was warm on my skin. I had done it! My sister was grinning at me, and my Mom looked - yes, proud!

(I thought now, while everyone yearns for spring, might be a good time to share this story about my childhood swimming lessons. Hopefully this will remind you there are warmer days to come!)

Waving at the President

See that car right there? It holds the President of the United States of America. A second after this picture was taken, he was right beside my husband and me, waving at us!

It all started last night when my husband came home from work and saw barricades being left at each intersection on his route home. We knew the President was coming to our town, but no one on the news was permitted to say which of several routes he might take from the airport to the convention center for the Town Hall Meeting. But we were pretty sure we knew, so this morning we went down to a main intersection from the airport, and sure enough, there was this large flag!

We parked across from it, got out, and waited for an hour or so. A policeman with a dog came and checked for explosives in the ditch, and confirmed this was indeed the President's route. Other people began gathering as well, all talking excitedly - then my husband spotted Air Force One coming down low and circling around to approach the airport! Soon policeman began barricading the roads, giving instructions to the crowd. "Don't step out in to the road for any reason," we were sternly warned. Then suddenly, here came the entourage!


Then the Presidential limo passed just a few feet in front of us, flags flying, President inside waving right to us! The election is over - now he is our President. And it was an honor we will not forget.

Football Magic Eye

Hey, remember those Magic Eye pictures? You stare and stare at them and they don't make a lick of sense - then suddenly the picture pops in to focus. Everything is crystal clear and you can't understand why you couldn't ever see it before. After this weekend, that's how I feel about football!

I've been watching football most of my life. Watching to see if the last 2 minutes will ever end and release my step-dad to come to the table for Thanksgiving dinner. Watching for half time so I could perform with the high school band. Watching with my husband while I am curled up with a book, only looking up when everyone starts cheering, to see the replay; or when I am bored, asking a lot of random questions during the game, which no one who actually knows anything about it wants to answer due to the fact that they are watching the game! But recently, all that changed. I finally decided I was ready. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

I began asking my husband quasi-intelligent questions, when he was relaxed and not otherwise engaged. He gladly answered them, and taught me the basics. Like the difference between quarters and downs, for instance. I watched a game and for the first time ever, it made a little sense. I swear, in the past, it was just a bunch of guys tying themselves in knots, untangling, high-fiving, and doing it again. But this time I began to untangle the knots of my spotty knowledge, picked up in bits and pieces through the years. I mentioned this on my blog, and a friend, Ruth, graciously sent me a "cheat sheet" with the basics spelled out. The next game I watched, sheet in hand, someone attempted a blitz. I didn't have to interrupt my husband, I had only to look up "blitz" on my little paper.

Then came the Super Bowl - the acid test! I reviewed my notes, watched the game so carefully that I got a headache, and asked well timed, intelligent questions. It's a good thing I wasn't watching for the commercials this time, because with one exception (the one where the boss is in the lush office with comfortable furniture, book-lined walls and a moose head, the "worker bee" is on the other side of the wall, working through the legs of the hind end of the moose in a crowded, noisy mail room. Cracked me up), they stunk. The game, however, was really good! I guess you really can teach an old dog new tricks.

Gator Glen

My brother has a rather unusual and interesting job. He's a licensed trapper for nuisance alligators. The other day he helped trap two. One was 8 ft. long, discovered in a sewer drain by city workers. The other was a 10 ft. long gator in a canal. If you go here you can see the news report and video. Be sure to watch the second video, it's the coolest! He's the guy sitting on the gator's back at the end.

You may notice the mouth is taped shut. Guess who taped it? He doesn't kill the gators unless they have killed a person - this one is headed for a gator farm in Lake Placid. He used a boom box playing baby gator sounds to attract the gator in question, then uses a loop to catch it, or sometimes a gaffe gun of some sort. Once he wrestles the madly fighting alligator to shore (they roll over and over, once breaking his finger in the process!), he has to sit on its back and tape its mouth shut. Then he can load it on the truck.

It's not that surprising that he would end up doing something like this. His first camping trip was when he was one month old, as you can see above. My sister and I are 9 and 12 in the picture. We hiked, swam, fished, canoed and camped and he was always included. I remember once my step-dad (his dad) asked us if we wanted to see an alligator when we were near a swamp or pond, probably in the Everglades. We said sure, so he began making soft "unh, unh, unh" sounds that he said were the sounds baby alligators make when they are in distress. Then he got a wicked little gleam in his eye and said to my mom, "Hand me the baby! If I dangle his tender little toes in the water, the gators will come right over!" She squealed and held my brother tighter and my step-dad grinned from ear to ear.

His dad taught him everything he needed to know to be an outdoorsman, and he always has been comfortable in the great outdoors. He hunts, both with gun and bow, fishes (and cooks an incredibly delicious fish dinner with his fresh fish, even though he doesn't eat fish himself), canoes, hikes, and camps.

And now he's added gator trapping to his repertoire! Kinda cool, don't ya think?
He wants people to know that what makes an alligator a nuisance is feeding them! I have been swimming, fishing and canoeing with gators, but when they are wild they mostly leave people alone. We had a gator in the pond near us that people wouldn't stop feeding - my son used to go stand on the bank and when the gator headed his way, he'd bean it between the eyes with a rock. That way it didn't know whether it was going to receive food or pain. It's possible he saved a few neighborhood kids that way! If you are concerned about alligators hurting people, or even if you are concerned about the gators themselves, the best thing you can do for them is leave them alone. People are killed by gators all the time, so you could save lives by not feeding them. Not to mention that the gator will have to be destroyed if it eats someone!
Luckily if someone has a problem, they can just give my brother a call!

Go, Sierra!!!

Sierra Minott is a beautiful girl from our church, who just happens to be the reigning Miss Florida. She's sweet, intelligent, talented and a wonderful Christian young lady - she's also competing for the title of Miss America tonight in Las Vegas. This will be aired at 8 o'clock tonight on TLC. We wish Sierra luck and know that she will be a wonderful role model for the nation's girls!

Update: We had a big "Miss America Party" at church to watch the pageant. Every time Sierra made it through another level, the cheering would be so loud we could never hear what she said! She did really well, though. Sierra was 4th runner up! We are all very proud of her.

I'd Like to Thank My Producer, Caterer, My Mother...

A while back, I received this lovely award (above) from Sparky, having to do with how blogging makes us feel close to each other (Proximidade) and friends with people we may never meet, but get to know just the same.

About the same time I got the Lemonade Stand award from Sassy Granny, also in the name of friendship and community, and I think it is really cute.

Around Christmas, I collected the Christmas Award from Merle and Sparky, but I was supposed to say what I love about Christmas. Well, what's not to love about Christmas?! I love it all. The lights, the carols, the nativity scenes, the parties, the food (sugar, sugar, sugar!!!) - especially the way everyone is so loving and gentle and compassionate with everyone else. I was too busy enjoying it all to tell about it, but now you know, I'm big on Christmas! What could be better than celebrating the birth of our Savior? I think the award is really classy looking and pretty.

More recently, my friend Ruth passed on this Friendship Award, below. Isn't it darling? I love hearts. And friends!
I really like awards. They make me feel special and happy, and they make my blog look pretty. But I am dreadful at following all the rules, linking everyone, passing them on in a timely fashion, and getting them posted before the givers give up on me! So I want to say a heartfelt thank you to all my lovely friends who took the time to bestow these lovely awards on me. Please forgive me for not taking care of them in the manner in which they (and you!) deserve. And anyone who visits here who really, really likes one of them, I want you to have it, in the time-honored tradition of sharing the bloggy joy!

Thanks again!

Totally Random Update: 1)We are enjoying our bookcase. Our son lent us a couple of very cool display shelves for the other side, too! 2)After reading my football comments, my friend Ruth sent me a Woman's Guide to Football she wrote, with the basic basics, so now I have a "cheat sheet" to use during the game (I got it out this weekend when the announcer mentioned a blitz and I couldn't remember just what that was!) Ruth might be persuaded to publish this handy-dandy guide in time for the Super Bowl; let's encourage her to do that. Husbands everywhere will thank her! 3)I remembered the other anniversary destination we killed. Well, wounded, since it has since reopened. But there is a lovely little resort on Sanibel Island called "Song of the Sea," (isn't the very name beautiful???) where we went for almost a week to celebrate our 25th anniversary! Such a romantic, beautiful spot. Hurricane Charley put quite a hurtin' on it the summer after we were there. I know a lot of the trees have been destroyed entirely, which would definitely change the ambience. 4)As for the wedding photo I showed for our anniversary where I'm peeking out the door - I had heard my beloved's voice and laughter and had to sneak a peek! My mother made the dress, from a picture in a bridal magazine of a dress I wanted. Well, actually, my hubby to be chose it, which I thought was incredibly romantic! I don't know how she did it. She cobbled together a pattern out of other patterns and newspaper. It turned out beautifully. The veil was the one my mum-in-law-to-be had worn and she put new lace and, but it had her original orange blossoms... 5)Last but not least, I finished Pilgrim's Regress. It was pretty good, but I recommend reading C.S. Lewis' afterword FIRST because I think it helped with understanding it. Next, I am supposed to read, per my son's request, "The Great Divorce," also by Lewis. (Ok. It's over. You can go home now :)

Totally Random

This bookcase for the den is our latest project. My husband designed and built it, and like the old Shake and Bake commercial, I helped! I sanded some, painted all, and helped fetch and carry. We built it in the driveway and brought it in piece by piece, but with 11' long boards, that's some big pieces! We really, really love it, though, and we'll also have good memories of building it together. As you can see, we are bookaholics.
See how big we grow our grapefruit here??? Seriously, it is called a pommelo. I don't know what that word means, but what it IS, is a really big grapefruit! It tastes really good! It's also a blast to feed to cows! I threw half of one to the cows, and that is a show. They fight over it, and whichever one gets it, turns and bites hard, spraying all the others with juice! It's so funny to watch. (on the back right is a normal grapefruit).
In other news, my husband is teaching me football. We play it in the den - no, really, we watch it in the den, and he explains it. Which I think is really nice of him. To his credit he's tried to teach me before, but I was a half-hearted learner. When I was in college getting a Business degree, one of my assignments for Marketing class was to watch the Super Bowl commercials. Well, I got really bored in between commercials and starting asking my husband a lot of apparently very silly questions about football. During the game. No, he didn't really appreciate it. He was seriously contemplating having a talk with my Professor. But now I really want to know what in the world those guys are doing out there, and the explanations are starting to make sense. I actually understand the difference between the four quarters and the four downs! Never got that before...

We killed another anniversary destination! For some reason, everywhere we like to go for our anniversary ends up closing. We used to go to the Naples Dinner Theatre. We actually saw several really good shows there, like "Show Boat," "South Pacific," "The King and I," and "Fiddler on the Roof." But they closed. Then for a couple of years we went to a restaurant called "Casa Lupita," but it closed too. So we started going to the smooth jazz festival, Jazz on the Green. It is isn't dead, but definitely wounded, in that it wasn't SMOOTH anymore! But it might be recovering. Then the other day, we went to Smokey Bones for an anniversary dinner - it had closed 2 days prior! I am getting very concerned about Sea World...

I am currently reading C. S. Lewis' "Pilgrim's Regress." Our youngest son asked me to read it; he'd read and enjoyed it, and we like to discuss books we've both read. It is something along the lines of "Pilgrim's Progress." Only different, of course. Oh, just an aside, but if you could never quite get through "Pilgrim's Progress" and wanted to, there is a book called "Little Pilgrim's Progress" that is much easier to read and still gets the point across nicely.

And that's enough randomness for one post!

Blogaversary

One year ago today I began this blog. I had been talking about starting one; talking but never doing. Finally my husband sat me down in front of the computer and said it was time. We both felt it would be a good bridge to more disciplined writing habits. Even though I'd been thinking about doing it, I'd never really thought out the details, but it was crunch time. I decided to name it All About Whatever so I wouldn't be locked in to one subject. The next day I discovered my header verse, one I had always liked, but now the 'whatever's' jumped out at me. When my husband asked me what my screen name would be, for some reason a conversation with my son about a rose bush came to mind. I have a McCartney rosebush that has large, fragrant and prolific pink blooms. If I had known this particular rosebush had ambitions to take over the world, I would not have planted it so close to the walk and the porch, but I had no idea it would get so big. It is at least 8 feet tall as well as wide. I nicknamed it "Rosezilla" and my son joked that he kept Round-Up in his room in case it snuck in to murder us all in our beds some night! I had a perfect picture of a double bloom from it that I chose for the Profile picture, and I decided to use the psuedonym Rosezilla for my blog, with the whimsical idea in the back of my mind that it would be as if the rosebush had it's own blog. I didn't really think anyone would be reading anyway. I had no idea I would meet so many lovely people, so many new friends all over the world who honor me by taking the time to read what I am writing, and who write such interesting things of their own. Following is one of my earliest entries, written in January of last year. But it's just as true this January!

Winter in Florida.

The sun is shining down like a benediction from a flawless sky, sapphire-blue and cloudless. A variety of small birds sing their hearts out from sheer happiness. Several larger birds ride the wind currents, strong and powerful daredevils breathtaking in their freedom. Squirrels are clowning around on the power lines like tiny performers in a circus highwire act. Butterflies flutter by, weaving among the roses in tantalizing flashes of orange and yellow. The roses lift their faces to the sun, perfect buds in pink, red, white or yellow slowly opening, gently releasing their soft perfume into the beauty of the day. It is winter in Florida once again.

Dance Lessons (True Story Time)

Christmas morning! After all the presents had been opened and the candy eaten, Mom told Leslie and me that we had one more gift. "You are going to begin dance lessons," she said.
“Dance lessons!” squealed Leslie. “Ballet?”
“Ballet if you want, or you can take tap,” Mom answered.
“Whoopee!” I yelled, jumping up and down. “When can we start?”
Very soon the day came. After school we went to Studio Bochette. Through a large picture window, we could see girls in leotards and tights practicing in a sunny room. Some stood at a barre, watching themselves stretch in a mirror. Those girls had toe shoes and were learning ballet. Another group of girls, in tap shoes, waited their turn.
“Okay, girls, what’ll it be?” a cheerful lady asked us.
“We haven’t decided yet,” answered Leslie with dignity. “But we think we want ballet.”
“Well, while you think about it, come look through these toe shoes,” she offered, leading us to a small room with a large box of ballet shoes. We dug in eagerly, but all of the shoes were so big! After trying on every pair, and feeling like Cinderella trying on her step-sister’s big shoes, we gave up. The lady looked at mom and said, “Well, I know we have tap shoes to fit them.”
That’s how we decided to take tap dancing. We went in to a small dressing room and changed into our leotards and tights. They were both black, and so were the tap shoes. These shoes weren’t soft like the ballet slippers. They were like dressy church shoes, only they had heavy metal taps affixed to the bottom front. After we got them buckled on, we went into the studio with our class. The wood floor shone softly, polished by generations of dancing feet. We all stood in a line, wiggling with anticipation. Our teacher began our lesson.
“Watch and then do,” she instructed and she moved her leg quickly, flicking her foot and producing a tapping sound like a shod horse on cobbles. We all moved our legs quickly and all our shoes made sounds too - like a herd of elephants on steroids.
Laughing, the teacher showed us again, slower, and this time we sounded better. We learned to point our toes down slightly and “scuff” our feet quickly, almost floppily, against the wood floor. Every movement of our foot produced certain sounds, some heavy, some light and soft. Sometimes we moved quickly, sometimes slowly, toe, heel, toe, turn! This was fun!
All too soon the first lesson was over. And then we got a serendipity! We took our shoes off, but then our teacher said, “Come in here!” and led us all into a new room, one with mats on the floor. We got to do tumbling, too! Now we had two new teachers. They showed us how to tuck up like a cat and roll forward down the mat. I felt like a bowling ball as one teacher held me together and rolled me gently toward the other. I thought I could do it by myself. First I rolled off to the side and then I came undone, but they patiently tucked me back together and I rolled along straighter this time. After a bit of practice, our lesson really was over. We changed to our regular clothes and rode home with Mom, bubbling over with excitement and eager to return.
The next couple of lessons improved our technique. At the end of the third lesson, the teacher began talking about a recital. We learned we would wear costumes, like little Hawaiian girls, with flower leis and grass skirts. We began learning the steps, tap, cross the feet, turn. “Good, now your hands,” the teacher exclaimed. “As you cross one foot over the other, reach up, as if you are picking flowers off of a tree, and then gently put them in your imaginary baskets. Gracefully, girls!” Very gracefully she demonstrated, her hands moving gently. We practiced over and over, adding the hand motions as we tapped our way across the floor.
In tumbling we were learning to do back rolls. Leslie was much better at tumbling than I was. She could tuck up tighter and roll straighter. I wobbled more. I resolved to do better the next week.
But when the next week came, the phone was ringing as we rushed in from school. It was Mama saying she couldn’t leave work. “Oh, no!” we moaned.
“Listen,” she soothed, “it will be fine! I’m calling a taxi to take you to your dance lesson. When the taxi comes, go out and get in. The taxi driver will know what to do. Then I’ll be there to pick you up after your lesson.”
Wow. We were impressed. Neither of us had ever been in a taxi before. We heard a “beep-beep-beep” and looked out to see that the taxi had arrived. The driver was a very big man. If I’d been by myself I know I couldn’t have gotten in to that taxi, even if I had to miss dance lessons. I don’t know, but I think Leslie felt the same way. She looked at me and I looked at her and we looked scared. The taxi driver was in a hurry. “Come on, you girls, your mom said to take you to the dance studio.”
Well, he knew where we were going. That was reassuring. We got in the back seat and that helped some. We sat very close together. The taxi driver ignored us and that helped too. Then we were stepping out at the familiar small, white building and we were happy again. “We rode in a taxi cab!” we bragged to our new friends.
“Hurry, girls,” our teacher admonished, “you’re late!” The other girls were already going into the studio. We hurried to change and hurried out to practice. I looked at Leslie and she looked fine. But the teacher looked at me, and she laughed! Then everyone looked at me and they all laughed. I was bewildered. I tried to decide whether or not to cry.
“You hurried so fast you came out backwards!” the teacher explained, showing me the inside seams on the outside of my leotard. In the mirror I could see the tag sticking straight out on the back. The teacher took me back in the dressing room. She very kindly helped me to get my clothes on right side out. When we came back no one laughed at me anymore. Our music started and we worked on our routine. We knew what we were supposed to do, now. We had to tap, tap, toe, heel, reach slowly, turning all the way from one side to the other, all together.
I began to feel like a small Island girl. I could feel the sea breezes on my skin as I moved. The fragrance of the exotic flowers wafted to my nose as I gracefully picked them, placing them gently in the basket I’d woven from palm leaves. I couldn’t wait to wear a grass skirt.
Tumbling was still a challenge. We were learning to do a backbend. Leslie could do it by herself. She would stand with her legs slightly apart, arms up above her head, and lean her head back. Slowly she bent back until she could see the ground beneath and behind her. Gently she lowered herself backward toward it, palms stretched out. Over, over she’d lean until her hands were flat on the floor and her body made a bridge. She could walk slowly on her hands and feet, then bring her head and hands back up until she was standing! It looked fascinating - until it was my turn. At first the teacher helped me by holding me, her hand on the small of my back. But sometimes, when I leaned back, my feet would come up off the floor! I kept working until I learned to do a back bend too.
As the weeks passed, the recital moved closer. Now we practiced at home too. Our costumes were being made! Tumbling continued as well. We were learning cartwheels. I never quite mastered cartwheels, but Leslie could do them if she held her mouth just right! I could do about 3/4ths of a cartwheel. But you should have seen me do forward rolls! Even backward rolls. And I never put my leotard on wrong-side out again.
Finally the day came when our costumes were ready. We had to put them on and do our entire routine in them. This was called a dress rehearsal. Now we were as ready as we’d ever be. The night of the recital arrived! We didn’t go to the familiar studio. We went to the local High School. That’s where all the big productions were held. We had gone to rehearsals there for community plays in which Mom and Dad acted. Then we were waiting around, getting into mischief, learning “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater” on the piano, watching Mom and Dad in plays like “Fireman, Save My Child!” and “Charlie’s Aunt.” But this time Mom and Dad would be in the audience and we would be performing on stage! We had our costumes on, our flowers and our tap shoes. Giggling, we waited for our turn.
Teacher came and lined us up, reminding us that it was time to get serious. We were all in a line, smiles pasted on, when the curtain rose. It was a big, heavy, red, velvet curtain. As a man pulled a long cord, slowly the curtain went up. We could see rows of people looking expectantly at us. Where was Mama? Before we could find her and wave, our teacher was making “Phtt, phtt” noises to get our attention. We all looked at her and our music started playing - the same music we had practiced to over and over at our lessons. We began to tap out the rhythm of our routine. Tap, tap, toe, heel, reach high, turn. We smiled, danced, picked the imaginary flowers and placed them deep in our imaginary baskets. We were concentrating so hard, trying not to make mistakes. We danced our very best, trying to make our audience feel the ocean breezes of our island home. As we took our final positions, our music ended. Everyone clapped and cheered. We took our bows. We were dance recital stars!

Happy New Year!

Like most of you, I am having fun playing with my new Christmas gifts. Hubby got me this lovely set of Jane Austen books, they are really beautifully done. I'm learning to use my new GPS which is an absolute life-saver since I could get lost in my bathtub! So far I have only used it to go places I already know how to get to, and it is so much fun to 'mess with it's head' and deliberately turn the wrong way, etc. to see what it will do. It always recovers and redirects admirably, so it is going to be great when I really need it. Especially to get back home again! I seem to be able to find my way places, only to be unable to find my way back home again, which can be most distressing. I got one of those really cool Kitchen Aid immersion blenders, too, and I can't wait to use it. Smoothies and soup, for sure, with recipes out of my brand new "Cook's Country" cookbook!

We have had an extremely good year in 2008, so this is a fond farewell to the year. We aren't going to have a New Year's Eve party, opting for a New Year's Day party instead. I don't always do New Year's resolutions, although I did when I was young, and my mom kept some of the more hilarious ones to blackmail me with! But this year I have several that I am extremely resolved about. I haven't really written them down, and don't intend to share them in any great detail, at least not in advance - that is such a jinx! But I have considered making a needlepoint that says "Write - Exercise - Garden" as a reminder. Of course, I don't do needlepoint and learning is not on my resolution list, so I will have to just do these things regularly until they become indispensable habits. I have enjoyed the modest publishing success I've achieved so far, and I'm hungry for more! So writing, and submitting, needs to become more of a priority. I want to be healthy, and exercise gets me there, so that's non-negotiable. And I would like to have my whole yard transformed, slowly and steadily, into a garden with paths and resting spots, and that will take a lot of hard work. So I am actually looking forward to this new year, full of promise and potential accomplishments. One last party, and then I will get back in to a routine, including a blogging routine. I have awards to accept, and loose ends to tie up, and I'm sure I'll have new experiences to share; not to mention reading all of your blogs! Happy 2009 to all of you friends I've made in this past year!

Happy Anniversary, Beloved!

Today I'm looking back on 30 years of marriage! Happy Anniversary to the man who swept me off my feet - as much as I loved you then, I love you even more now. It just keeps getting better!
Here's to the next 30 years!
(Hubby's 50th birthday was Friday, the day after Christmas. And, this is my 100th post!)

The Gift Has Already Been Given

Christmas a little hectic this year?

Take a deep, prayerful breath and a moment to remember what it's all about...
A Blessed and Merry Christmas to you!

Hymns of Special Meaning

Ruth asked me to post five hymns that have meant something significant in my life, and I really tried to follow the rules. I went through the hymn book and I was strict with myself. "Only the really important ones," I told myself firmly. I ended up with a list of 43. This wasn't going to be easy! Back to the drawing board. I thought hard about what was really important to me, why hymns touch me so much.

I realized that for me, it is all about a relationship with the Triune God (Father, Son and Holy Spirit). There is a song called "Happiness Is the Lord" that has the line, "Real joy is mine, no matter if teardrops start, I've found the secret, it's Jesus in my heart," that kind of sums up my religious philosophy. I know a lot of people are Christians because they want to go to heaven some day, but I gotta tell you, even if we just lived and died here with no hope of anything after that, I would still be a Christian. When I was a child, I discovered that Jesus loves me and and I made a choice to put my hand in His. My life hasn't always been easy, far from it at times; but it HAS always been joyful! I believe what God says in His Word, because Jesus is the Word, and I trust Him completely; plus He sent the Comforter to help me understand it.

Hymns have always helped me remember the gospel, exhorted me to live it, given me a way to praise Him, comforted me when I was scared, and given me HOPE! I have narrowed it down to 12 choices, and I'm afraid that's the best I can do! I will not attempt to put the words to the hymns here, but I have linked to the lyrics.

"Jesus Loves Me" was the first song I learned as a tiny Christian. It gave me the gospel in a nutshell, and taught me to trust Jesus and believe the Bible.

I learned "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" first at church, then to a different tune at church camp. It was very comforting to know I had a Friend I could depend on, that was always there for me even when others had let me down badly.

"Trust and Obey"and "Count Your Blessings" are songs that taught me how to live as a Christian, and shaped my reaction to things that happened in my life. The only thing that puzzled me is the part in "Trust and Obey" where it says "I will walk by His side in the way." I always wondered if I shouldn't get out of the way!

My mother called "Heaven Came Down and Glory Filled My Soul" my song. She'd play it for me on the piano, my sister would sing harmony, and it is the one song I would belt out confidently!

"He Lives" resonates with me because my heart is so full of the love and presence of Jesus in my life and heart. He is a very real Person to me, Friend and Savior.

"Love Lifted Me" is all about salvation, and though I felt the presence of God from a very young age, I still made a conscious choice to accept Him in to my heart. I was very aware of how lost I was without Him, and trusted Him completely to save me.

Once I was saved, I loved the praise songs, such as "Praise Him! Praise Him!" and "He Keeps Me Singing." Great is His Name and Greatly to be praised!

We had an amazing piano player in our church, a lady by the name of Alice Mayhew. A beautiful, godly woman, and a professional piano player that could make you feel like you were already in heaven! I loved when she played "Wonderful Grace of Jesus," and then everyone would begin singing, and it was so rolling and majestic, the men and women singing different parts that gave it a richness that made me feel like my heart was going to come out of my chest and float up to heaven on its own!

"It Is Well With My Soul" is a beautiful song that always makes me cry, and that's before I had even heard the story behind it! It is a sad, beautiful, soul-stirring story of the trust a bereaved father had in his Lord and Savior even after his children had been drowned while coming by ship to join him. The story is here.

"Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee," besides being stunningly beautiful all on its own, also has a great deal of meaning to me, because this is one of the early songs my youngest son learned to play on the piano, and it's one we share a fondness for.

You can click on the names of the hymns to go to a page with lyrics and/or tunes. I pray God has richly blessed the writers of the hymns that give testimony, admonition, guidance, hope and praise to His Holy Name! They have been a rich source of blessings, teachings and strength to me in my Christian walk. And now I hope they will be a blessing to you!

Christmas Goodies and Recipes

I got fooling around with my banana bread recipe and created something great, just in time for Christmas! Following is the recipe for Banana Nut Craisin Bread. Rich and moist and flavorful, I think you're gonna love it. And it goes really well with a glass of eggnogg!

Banana Nut Craisin Bread

3 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1+1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup butter
2 eggs
3 Tablespoons milk
2 Tablespoons eggnog
4 ripe, mashed bananas
1 cup chopped mixed nuts
2 cups Craisins

Heat oven to 350 degrees
Mix first 4 ingredients in small bowl. Cream sugar with butter until light and stir in eggs. Beat in bananas, milk and eggnog. Beat flour mixture into banana mixture thoroughly; stir in nuts and craisins.
Divide evenly between 2 greased loaf pans. Bake for 1 hour, cool and slice.

Speaking of great Christmas recipes, the fabulous Christy of The Daily Dish held a recipe contest and my Grandma's Old-Fashioned Peanut Butter Fudge made the cut. Grandma made it for family, friends, and to sell at all the community events in Madison, Indiana. And I won some Lindt chocolates, too, how cool is that! Christy is posting a recipe a day from now 'til Christmas Eve. There will be lots of great things, and it's possible another of mine might appear, too. As an added bonus, Christy reduces the sodium in her recipes, but leaves the "delicious!" This is helpful to so many, many people who can't have sodium (like me!), and she does this site out of the goodness of her heart. But that doesn't mean there are no expenses, so if you can, out of the goodness of YOUR heart, consider leaving a donation to help with her costs.

(Here's a pic of my Grandma selling her fudge.)

Chain Reaction

(Now when everyone is worried about the economy, politics and gas prices, it might help to remember that we've been here before, so to speak. When I was a teen in the 1970s, we had gas rationing, which caused the following now humorous day. The photo is my sis and me in 1976. I'm the brunette on the left in the coral dress, she's blond, in the flowered dress).

As the Dean of Students read the excuse my mother had carefully and thoroughly written out, she began to laugh. The more she read, the harder she laughed. “Please excuse my daughters from school yesterday,” it began…
“Don’t ride the bus tomorrow,” our friend Cheryl told my sister and me. “I’ll give you a ride to school.” This was fine with us! So the next morning we waited for Cheryl to show up. And waited. And waited. Suddenly she showed up at our door, and we thought we were in business. But when she came in, we realized she had walked…and she did not look happy!
“Where have you been? Where is your car? What’s going on?” we quizzed her as she caught her breath.
“My car won’t start. I tried to call you, but you never answered.”
“Our phone never rang,” my sister explained as Mom went and picked it up. Sure enough, it was out of order.
“What are we going to do?” wailed my sister. “The bus will be gone by now!”
“Come on, girls, I’ll take you,” Mom offered, and since we were in a hurry, she didn’t even bother to dress. We didn’t get out of the driveway, however, before she realized we were running extremely low on gas. “Oh, great!” she exclaimed. “Oh, well, at least it’s our day. We’ll just have to get gas on the way.”
This was the mid-70’s and an energy crisis was in full tilt. President Carter had declared energy saving measures, such as turning off the lights in rooms you weren’t using, and gas rationing. You could only get gas on certain days of the week, and luckily it was our turn. So Mom pulled into the first gas station she came to. It was full-service, which for the younger among you means employees of the gas station actually came out and pumped our gas for us, so we would be spared the spectacle of Mom pumping gas in her curlers and pink bathrobe. Unfortunately, we had all forgotten one tiny but crucial detail. Because of the rationing, people were siphoning gas out of other people’s cars, so my step-dad had installed a brand new lock on the gas tank. One for which he had the key, at home on his keychain.
“Well, we simply do not have enough gas to get you girls to school!” Mom concluded. “You’ll just have to try again tomorrow.”
And home we went, where Mom wrote the note the Dean decided to frame and hang on her wall.

Good Tidings of Great Joy!

And behold, an Angel of the Lord stood near them, and the brightness of God shone around them, and they were struck with a great fear. And the Angel said to them: "Do not be afraid. For, behold, I proclaim to you a great joy, which will be for all the people. For today a Saviour has been born for you in the city of David: he is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find the infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger."

And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the celestial army, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will." (Luke)

A Blessed Christmas to all of you! (The angels were made by our sons many years ago, and I still put them out every year.)

Customized Scattergories

Sparky tagged me (and everyone else who reads her blog!) with a list of questions I'm supposed to answer. I took some out and added some in, so mine is a little different from hers. Go to her site to see the original, and if you want to play, you can use hers, mine, or make up your own! Here goes!

Who do you look the most like in your family? I don't look at all like anyone in my family, although there is apparently a distant cousin I've never met that I favor.

Do you like your handwriting? Uh, no, it's horrible. If I hadn't learned to type, few people would be able to read what I write.

Do you prefer pants or skirts? Skirts almost exclusively.

Smooth jazz or rock? Smooth jazz

Do you have kids? Yes, 3 amazing sons here and one in heaven

What is your favorite lunchmeat? Turkey, but I also like "roast beast"

If you were someone else would you be friends with you? I think I would, I'm pretty friendly. I KNOW I'd be friends with my kids if we'd been kids together

Are you sarcastic? I can be when I'm trying to be funny

Are you good at telling jokes? No, I'm the worst, I usually end up telling the punch line first by mistake and then I get all confused

Do you cry easily? Didn't used to, but the older I get the more tender I get

Do you have your tonsils? Yep, that is one of the few things left, lol

Would you bungee jump? Oh, yeah, and sky dive and hot air balloon and parasail and... but my hubby has made me promise to wait until he's gone, so I'll be one of those 90 year old daredevils!

Who has been your favorite President in your lifetime? President Reagan

What is your favorite ice cream? Ben and Jerry's New York Super-Fudge Chunk. That, or plain vanilla from Publix

What's the first thing you notice about people? Their eyes and smile

What is the last movie you went to the theatre to see? Madagascar II just a few days ago (IMAX!)

What book are you currently reading? "What Matters Most" by Luanne Rice

Who do you miss the most? Our 3rd son

Shoes or barefoot? barefoot

What color do you prefer, red or blue? RED

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My mother

What was the last thing you ate? Pumpkin bars with cream cheese frosting, yummy!

What is your least favorite feature? My eyes

What do you listen to? Oh, my, it depends on what I'm doing. Relaxing with my hubby, "Romance in Rio" or Chris Botti's "A Thousand Kisses Deep"; working is College Fight Songs, cooking is Big Band or fiddle and banjo, cooking for special occasions, Charlotte Church, doing dishes, hymns... to relax I like techno and when I'm playing board games with my son, we listen to Christian Contemporary. There's a music for every mood!

Favorite scents? Lilac, cinnamon, vanilla, Brut

Hair color? Eye color? Brown

Favorite sports to watch? Hockey, baseball, rodeo - or soccer and tennis if my sons are playing!

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings!

Movies that make you laugh or movies that make you think? BOTH

Who is your newest favorite singer? Michael Buble, esp. "Sway" and "Everything"

Do you have a special talent? I am amazingly good at diagnosing people's illnesses and ailments

HodgePodge, Treats and Happy Thanksgiving!

Things are hoppin' but they are all fun things. The pink marble tile for my new bathroom is being installed (by my brother) and it looks mahvelous! Our son found it for us, 12 x 12 tiles for 50 cents a tile! Wow! He's the sultan of deal-finders! I'll tell more about the bathroom later, with pictures, I promise!

I got not one, but TWO awards from Sparky!!! They are above and below:

Aren't they cool? I am honored...

Kathy at Destination Sanctification and I, did a swap for our birthdays. Hers was November 1st, so I got her package to her right before. Mine is November 30th and my package came today! WOW, what a lot of lovely, darling, pretty smelling things! Soon I'll do a post just about the swap! (I'm starting to get a backlog - I still have to do our Sea World trip and the hymn meme! Soon, I promise!).

Well, I will of course be busy all this week, cooking, cleaning... and sealing marble tile, of course! So a very, very Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, enjoy your feasting and family and remember to Count Your Many Blessings. (There, Ruth, I worked a hymn in!) I don't know about you but I have soooo many to count! ( To all of you who live in places that don't officially celebrate Thanksgiving, don't feel left out. Just roast a turkey, invite your family over, and take a day to celebrate all the amazing blessings God showers you with all the year long. A day to say Thanks to Him for everything, and to really hold your family close to your heart - it's not just an American or Canadian thing when you think of it that way!)

(Update: I just got the Superior Scribbler award again, from Bob at Rhymes With Plague, a fun, informative blog I think you would like very much. I am thinking that Sparky and Bob must have seen my handwriting at some point, let alone my prolific doodling! Thanks, guys!)