Archive for category: At Home…

When everything seems to be going wrong…

Yesterday was one of those days. You know what I mean-a bump your head, forget your lunch, drop a brick on your toe, and the car wont start-days.

 


Except for me it started off with two of my carefully planned Christmas presents that were left in the wrong hands, turned out to look like poop. Not cute baby poop, but that English Mastiff neighbor dog next door gigantic, smelly poop.

 


And I didn’t feel great, so I was hopped up on meds. Which of course makes me sleepy and dizzy. This normally clutzy girl doesn’t need any help to injure herself, however yesterday I ran into the door frame of our bedroom-several times, tripped up the stairs and shut my hand in a drawer.

 


The cats are freaking out without their outdoor time and without Rebekah time as I slept the morning away. I awoke to a shattered vase, broken Christmas ornaments and several feathers (source was unknown), strewn about the house.

 


Then, the window in our sweet ride decided to retreat into the door without warning. There was no amount of coaxing and pleading that brought it back to its upright position. And there didn’t seem to be a repair guy on earth who could fix it last night.

 


I had promised Biceps a dinner of meatloaf, roasted sweet potatoes and carrots before he left for the day. And by golly, he was going to get that meal. Don’t get the wrong idea, this was not a sweet thing by the time it came to preparing aforementioned meal.
Instead, I was going to make sure Biceps knew that:
A) I was sick and didn’t feel like cooking
B) this meal was a lot of work
C) and now I had to do the dishes and did I mention I was sick?

 


And of course, I took all this frustration out on Biceps-because I’m a mature Christian who lashes out instead of talking to God about my frustrations. Biceps has his midterm today and needed to study even more than usual. The poor guy who didn’t deserve my retribution, also didn’t have time for it. Which made matters worse.

 


After Biceps put up with me for awhile, I retreated to our room. AND that’s when I decided to talk to God. I’m such an idiot-why does it take me so long to get where I need to be?

I read these two scriptures and was reminded of how blessed I am and where my hope is:

“But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love.” Psalm 33:18

“Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.” Luke 6:21

I didn’t feel like laughing quite yet.

 


This is the one that got me, convicted me and caused a change of heart.

“You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires;, to be made new in the attitude of you minds, and to put on the new self, to be created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.” Ephesians 4:22-24

I returned to the land of the living to ask forgiveness from my loving Biceps. Thankfully, my husband is patient with this “work of art” that’s still being painted by the Creator.

 


All of those things that seemed to be so important and frustrating just moments before seemed a little less important and a lot less frustrating. It was a round-about and fairly embarrassing way to get to this point of total dependance on God.

“My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.” Psalm 62:7

He sure has a way of reminding us just how much we need Him, doesn’t He? He is such a stinker sometimes.

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Today, I rest.

Yesterday, during the lecture portion of my Bible Study, it began to happen. I got that horrible itchy feeling in the back of my throat that I tried to ignore.

If I let it have its way, it would turn into a full-fledged, coughing-up-a-lung, hack-fest. Since I was sitting on the fourth row of the sanctuary, I didn’t want to make a scene racing for the bathroom-and so, I held my ground. I suppressed the urge with a new piece of gum and a few tears.

 


Of course, being the idiot that I am-I kept going with my day. I had errands to run, Christmas cards to get out, dinner to make, lunch to pack, laundry to do and leaves to rake.

By the end of the night last night, I was hugging the throne and upchucking all that I had just ingested for dinner. But, it was just one small puke. I’m not sick, I said to myself.

 


This morning, I was not convinced to take the day off-just look at this list of to-do’s. And these are just the things I know I’ll forget if I don’t have them written down. They don’t include studying, doing the laundry, making Christmas present, vacuuming rugs, prepping dinner or any of my other daily chores.

But, on the way back from dropping Biceps off this morning, I nearly had to pull over to upchuck the piece of toast consumed for breakfast. Toast is not tasty the second go around and I wasn’t having it. Ick.

 


I made it home in time to puke in my personal toilet, called my Mommy (because who else truly cares when you’re sick but your Mommy?) and after a quick prayer, crawled into bed.

This is where I’ll probably stay until I pick up Biceps this afternoon.

Or until Crossfit.

Today, I rest.

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3 Weeks Until Christmas

Confession time: Christmas is my absolute, unequivocally, most favorite time of year. I start the Christmas Carols on Thanksgiving day and don’t stop until well into January. I decorate the day after Thanksgiving and love creating new themes each year for the house. My station is tuned to 94.1, which in Tulsa is “all Christmas-all the time”.

And one of my favorite things to do this time of year is to create a bizarre Christmas photo with my best friend and husband.

Here are a few from Christmas past:

 


2007.
Ah, yes. The ’80’s were a good decade. The hair, the high waisted swimsuits, the neon colors, the immovable cobra hair. Could it get any better than that?

 


2005.
Our house blew up. Seriously. Why not wish our friends and family Merry Christmas with a picture of total devastation?

 


2008.
Bananas in hammocks. ‘Nuff said.

If your appetite is now whetted and you aren’t satisfied with just three lovely Christmas Card pictures-don’t worry. There’s more where this came from. Including litter boxes, cats, missionaries, glamour shots and more.

We’ve been doing this since our first year of marriage in 2001 and we just finished this year’s beauty. I wish I could share 2012’s masterpiece with you now, but I must wait until all recipients on my long list have received their cards first.

Let’s just say, it’s pretty awesome.

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Garage Sale Addict-Part 5

Dear Readers:

*The above picture has nothing to do with this post. I just like the blue little stars.*

This morning, I’m sharing Part 5 of my story, “Garage Sale Addict”. If you’d like to catch up, here’s:
Garage Sale Addict, Part 1
Garage Sale Addict, Part 2
Garage Sale Addict, Part 3
Garage Sale Addict-Part 4
And, here is my disclaimer one more time-because I’m insecure about my skillz as a writer. I mean, does a real writer use “z’s” at the end of her words?

Disclaimer: I am nervous about sharing this. Instead of me being able to use words like “crap” or my made up favorites like “goody-ness”, what I’m about to share will be held to a higher standard. Because it’s part of my hidden soul-my personal writing projects.
Who knows if this will ever go anywhere-but it’s fun to write and to dream. I’d love to hear what you have to say, or maybe I won’t.

*****

Garage Sale Addict (Young Adults)

 

“Bonnie, guess what I just found for 75% off!,” Rosalyn whispered excitedly into her phone. She tucked the Van der Hoessen handbag into the bottom of her shopping cart and pushed her way down the aisle.

“What?”

“This season’s Van der Hoessen touring bag for only $355,” she said.

“Wow. What a deal,” Bonnie replied dryly. “And, since when do you care about name brands?”

“It’s not for me. I’m going to use it to lure back my customers for the next garage sale,” responded Rosalyn. “Oops, I’m to the front of the line. Gotta go.”

“This isn’t over,” said Bonnie. “We need to talk a little more about your strategy.”

 

Rosalyn made it home with the Van der Hoessen bag, a few Chang belts and the largest grand total she’d ever witnessed on one receipt. Guilt nagged at her as she looked at the total once again. Even with the 75% off and a coupon, she still spent more than she had made in the last two weeks.

“It’s my money and I can spend it however I want to,” she said aloud to no one. After photographing the items, Rosalyn posted them online with the headline, “Name Brand Garage Sale this Saturday only!”.  She added descriptions to the items, directions to her house and her email address.

Looking at her watch, Rosalyn remembered she had a 4 ‘o clock appointment with an irish setter. She grabbed her camera bag, her keys and was back out the door. Her phone chimed as she backed out of the driveway, notifying her of a new email. Rosalyn decided to look at it later, turned on the radio and began humming along. The radio and her phone were soon having a battle of who could be the noisiest as one email after another made its way to her phone, dinging relentlessly at her. She clicked the radio off and drove the rest of the way-a cacophony of sounds coming from her phone.

“I’m leaving you in the car, since you can’t behave,” Rosalyn pointed at her phone and hopped out. The dog and its master were already in the pre-discussed location in the park, right next to the big elm Rosalyn used to climb as a kid. A middle-aged man, dressed in a sweater-vest, tie and khaki pants held a leash that attached to a gorgeous red irish setter.

“Good afternoon, Mable,” she said to the dog, petting its thick coat. “And good afternoon to you, Mr. Ranford.”

“Please, call me Hal.”

“Alright, Hal and Mable-are you two ready for your session?,” Rosalyn smiled at the pair and Mable responded with a wagging tail. Hal bobbed his head and straightened his tie.

“I’m a little nervous. I never know what to do with my hands,”  he lifted them up, fingers together.

“Well, for starters, let’s not have ‘paddle hands’-just relax,” she brought his hands down to his side. “I’ll show you what to do. We’ll be done in no time.”

Rosalyn guided them to the best lighting next to the small pond at the edge of the park.

“My wife wanted this picture for her desk-she said it would be the best photograph ever of her two favorite people,” Hal said as they walked.

“Two favorite people?” Rosalyn smiled and moved Hal into position next to the dog with the forest in the background.

“I know, I know. Since our son moved away she’s really taken a shining to Mable.” He patted the dog’s head, looking more comfortable than his previous ‘paddle hand’ scenario.

“That’s perfect, Hal.” she said. “Just stay right there-that looks natural.”

After a few close-up shots, Rosalyn moved further away to get a few full-lengths but was battling a setting sun.

“We’re loosing sunlight, let’s move over to the other side of the pond.”

“You’re in charge,” Hal said.

“Hey-I’m having a garage sale this Saturday and have a bunch of name brand items your wife might be interested in,” Roslayn led them to a bench and had Hal sit down. Mable instinctively jumped onto the bench and laid her head on Hal’s knee.

“My wife loves garage sales. I’ll let her know.” Hal smiled as Rosalyn clicked off several more shots.

“Also, I’m putting together a dog calendar featuring some of my favorite dog clients. Would you mind if I shot a few singles of just Mable?”

“Not at all. She’s much more photogenic than I am,” he said and straightened his tie again.

“Nonsense, you’re doing great.” Rosalyn grabbed the leash, leading Mable to a section of the pond filled with cattails. She took several of Mable ‘pointing’ and then a few more of her sitting. The dog’s red fur gleamed in the sunlight.

“She really is a gorgeous dog,” Rosalyn said to Hal over her shoulder.

“Thanks! How much are your calendars going to be? I bet my wife would love one.”

“If you have a dog in the calendar, you get one for free,” she said. “They’ll be done in a few months-I just need one more dog for the month of May. Mable will probably be my June dog.”

They finished the session and walked back to the parking lot. Hal and Mable loaded into his SUV and Rosalyn waved goodbye to Hal and Mable as they drove off. She jumped in her own car and picked up her phone to see the damage. 14 emails, 5 missed phone calls and 2 messages were displayed.

She opened her first email and read the opening line.

This sale hopefully will be better than your last one. If not, I’m never coming back. Signed-Disappointed.”

“Geesh,” Rosalyn said and hit the delete button. The next one wasn’t any kinder.

I came last week and all you had was a bunch of junk. Are you telling us the truth or is this some sort of scam because you just want people to come visit you? Please respond or I may not show up. Signed-Don’t waste my time.”

“Holy cow.” Rosalyn deleted that email and went through the rest. Only one was from someone with a legitimate question about the size of her belt. “This ought to be interesting.”

She pressed the voicemail button and listened to two messages back to back from Bonnie. The first just asked her to call back. She listened to the second message from her friend.

Look, Ros. I know you really enjoyed that first sale. It was fun to get rid of all that stuff from you-know-who. But, I don’t think it’s a good idea to spend that kind of money just to get people to come back. I don’t want to mother you-I’m just concerned. Call me back and let’s grab coffee tonight.

Rosalyn hit the “call back” button and started to pull out of the parking lot.  Bonnie picked up on the first ring.

“I was starting to get worried about you,” her friend said.

“Sorry. I had a photo shoot and left my phone in the car,” Rosalyn didn’t offer the “why” behind leaving the phone in the car. “How does 7 sound for coffee tonight? I need to run home and freshen up.”

“Sounds good. Same place?”

“Same place.” Rosalyn hung up and pulled out onto the street.

 

Rosalyn washed her face and added some makeup. After pulling on a pair of jeans and her “going out” heels, she once again glanced at the receipt from the day’s earlier purchases. She sighed, but reassured herself that she would make the money back from that weekend’s garage sale. As she locked the front door behind her, she heard her name being called from the street.

“Hey, Rosalyn.” Micah waved from the street, Spartan at his side.

Her stomach did flip-flops. She loved the way her name sounded coming from his mouth.

“Hey, Micah. Hey, Spartan.” She patted the dog’s head and knelt down to be eye level with the pooch. “You know, I still need to photograph you. I have one month left to complete my calendar and you are just the dog for the job.”

“Anytime, Ros. Just let me know what day and I’ll make sure this stinky guy has had a bath.”

Ros. He called her Ros. 

She liked that.

“How about tomorrow after the garage sale?” Rosalyn stood up, but hadn’t realized how close she had gotten to Micah while petting the dog. She was eye-to-eye with him and a mere 6 inches from his nose. She stepped back suddenly, loosing her balance on the curb.

“Dang heels,” she said, embarrassed as she caught herself on his outstretched arm. “I don’t know why I ever wear these things. I’m always tripping and making a fool of myself.”

“I don’t know,” he said and helped her stay upright. “They look pretty good on you. And they offer a great excuse for a man to be chivalrous if you do happen to trip.”

He smiled, but didn’t let go of her arm. Rosalyn loved that he used the word ‘chivalrous’ in every day conversation and smiled back at him.

“Where you headed?” He finally released his grip on her.

No-come back, Mr. Arm!

“Just off to have coffee with my friend Bonnie. She’s concerned I’m having too many garage sales.” She tried to maintain a steady voice, but knew her nerves were causing fluctuations from high to low and back to high again.

“Are you getting a cold?” Micah pressed his hand to her head.

Ah. There it is, he’s touching me again.

She leaned her head into the palm of his hand, praying it wasn’t greasy or clammy or both.

“I don’t think so.” She said, proud of herself for finally flirting with him.

Her victory was short-lived. As she said the word ‘so’, a bit of spit flew from her lips and onto his face. He dropped his hand instantly, wiping at his cheek, laughing.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whirled around, nearly tripping on the curb again. “I’m late. I’d better go.”

Rosalyn raced up the driveway towards her car.

“Bye, Ros. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Ok. Yeah-whatever,” she didn’t look back, unlocked her car and threw her purse on the passenger’s seat.

 

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