Favorite photos from 2009.

There are way too many to put them all on the blog, but here are a few. I think there might be a theme . . .

 

 

 

Yes, it was a great year.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Not very New-Year's-ey, but it's what I'm thinking about.

I really try not to get all political on the blog, but once again, Ann Coulter says what Americans are thinking but are afraid to say. I agree with her all the more, since someone near and dear to us was actually fired from his job for commenting that, "When I fly, the first thing I do is look around the plane for middle-eastern-looking men. I sit near them so I'm close by in case they try anything."

Fired. From a job. For speaking the truth in America, the land of free speech.

Please go read Ann's article here.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Zombie fire ants.

I spent the better part of today working through an E-Book about zombie fire ants (they come from South America), and yes, there really is such a thing, and that's really what they're called. Scientists have figured out that the best way to control the fire ant population is to introduce phorid flies, also immigrants from South America, to the infested area. Phorid flies inject their eggs into the bodies of fire ants. The egg begins to grow, and when it reaches the larva stage, it crawls up into the fire ant's head and feeds off of its brain. (I am not making this up.) The fire ant begins to act "weird" (that happens when something starts eating your brain) and winds up outside the colony, roaming around aimlessly (hence the name zombie), until finally its head falls off.

Some days I feel like that. Fortunately, today isn't one of them. But for future reference, when I tell you I'm having a zombie-fire-ant day, you'll know what I'm talking about.

When I wasn't learning about the binomial nomenclature and feeding habits of South American insects, I was torturing myself at Pilates. Queen P decided today that we don't look good in our jeans, so we're going to work our "lower core" until we whip it into shape worthy of denim. Class begins at 4. At 4:45, she looked at the clock and was amazed at how quickly the time was flying by! I was inwardly begging for mercy. When she announced at 4:55 that we were going to do some planks, I outwardly groaned. Joe (a classmate) said, "I love planks!"

I wonder if I could sic the phorid flies on them both . . .

Be thankful ~

Karen

PS. As I write this, I can hear a mouse nibbling on something in the kitchen trash can behind me. Five years in this house, and this is the first mouse we've had inside. Usually the snakes keep them in check. *sigh* I hate mouse hunting.

The true miracle of Christmas.

Husband got home from Kuwait this morning, and after spending 45 minutes coming through 3 checkpoints (what's up with that? He was LEAVING the airplane!), we jumped in the car and enjoyed the daily Capital Beltway block party. Came home to unpack, work, sleep, do laundry, etc.

As I was sitting at my computer, Ben came in the room and suggested we go shopping later and then to get some Bang-Bang Shrimp.

I turned to look over my shoulder to make sure he was talking to me. I briefly wondered if it was jet-lag speaking, but he seemed lucid enough. I thought (in Rocky Balboa voice), "You talkin' to me?

So we'll go shopping. An invitation like that doesn't come along every day! What about you? Does your husband like to shop or hate it?

Be thankful ~

Karen

Food for thought and speech, straight from the mouth of God.

Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers. (Eph 4:29)

Set a watch, O LORD, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips. (Psalm 141:3)

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer. (Psalm 19:14)

Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man. (Col 4:6)

Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile. (Psalm 34:13)

A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger. (Prov 15:1)

Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones. (Prov 16:24)

Therewith (the tongue) bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God. Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be. (James 3:9,10)

For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile: (I Peter 3:10)

If ever we needed to make a resolution regarding our speech, it is now. Will you join me?

Be thankful ~

Karen

Lots of traveling and a good ole childhood disease.

The last three days actually began on the 17th, when Abbie flew to Texas for her friend Noelle's graduation from Texas Christian University.

Congratulations, Noelle!

(PS. Noelle was in a teensy accident yesterday that sort of smashed the front end off her car. We're very thankful she's safe.)

After graduation, they drove from Fort Worth to southwest Tennessee (this was pre-accident), to Deb and David's house. Then Leah and Elijah flew there from Virginia on Monday (On Delta. Through Detroit. Does that ring a very recent bell?), and it was all one big happy family, except for Mike and I, who were still in Virginia (jobs are so inconvenient sometimes), and Ben, who was in Kuwait.

They got to see Sticky Bean (Leah made his new elf hat—he seems to like it).

They're starting him on math early in hopes of turning him into a genius.

Abbie loves Tennessee because she gets to play Annie Oakley.

And Bean decided he didn't want his clothes on. It all started two days before I got there, when he was running a low fever, between 100 and 101, and acting sort of cranky, which is really not unusual for the Bean. When Mike and I got there Thursday evening, Deb was getting him up from a nap. She brought him over to me and before I could even take him, I said, "What's up with the spots?" He had a bunch of little red spots all over his head. Within a few hours, they were spreading down over his body, and by the end of Friday he was covered.

We initially thought roseola, because some kids in our church have had it recently, but that's usually accompanied by a high fever. Same with measles. We settled on rubella, because his symptoms perfectly matched the ones we read on all the be-your-own-doctor websites. I love those things—they're like med-school-in-a-jar. So we think he has rubella, and Deb will be keeping him confined for a few days.

Anyway, he didn't want his clothes on. And he was a little cranky. Here he is with his Granny.

Okay, so he was a lot cranky. Isn't that an awesome face? Sometimes I feel like making that face, but it's a lot cuter on him.

Saturday we drove all the way home again and made it in just a little over 11 hours. I hate that drive. Got home to find snow still here, but melted enough that we could get in the driveway, for which I am most thankful. This week I'm going to buy a snow shovel just so it won't snow again.

And now it's a whopping 8:30 and I am SO ready for bed. Nighty-night.

Be thankful ~

Karen

The second most common grammar mistake.

Taken from a Military.com news bulletin regarding the Post-9/11 GI Bill:

"As always, it seems there are more questions with the Post-9/11 GI Bill then there are answers."

"Than" is used when you're talking comparisons. More questions than answers.  


And just in case you're wondering, when Sticky Bean says, "No avocado," he means "NO AVOCADO."

Can't wait to hold him and kiss his little fat cheeks!


Be thankful~

Karen

In which there was NO mention of snow.

My van is stuck sort of cock-eyed at the end of my driveway. I won't say why. Mike was late for work this morning, because we had no end of trouble getting his car out. I won't say why, but I was standing up to my butt in it digging his wheels out. The dog is stir-crazy, no amount of fire makes it warm in my house, and every once in a while I hear a loud WHOOSH of something sliding off my roof. I won't go into the cause of these things, but you know why. I'm just not saying it. I'm sick of dealing with it, sick of driving in it, sick of walking in it, VERY sick of shoveling it, and definitely sick of thinking about it. So there.

OK, I'm done complaining.

I did get laundry done and the house vacuumed, so that's a good thing. Paid the bills, ordered a replacement for the TV remote that died (can you imagine getting up off the couch to change channels and turn up the volume? I feel like Laura Ingalls!), bought the geometry program on DVD since the VCR bit the dust yesterday, and worked a few hours. And I wrote a short piece about camping for an upcoming Molly's Money-Saving Digest. It's actually a compilation of this post and this one. It was supposed to be no more than 350 words, but, honestly, I just can't make myself shut up. I wrote over 500. Then pared it down to 450, then 400, and finally wound up at 387. It's like a bad haircut. You keep cutting and it just doesn't get any prettier.

While I was out today, I stopped at my local Tar-zhay for a few things and made a startling discovery. You know how "they" always say that when a big storm is coming, people go to the store for bread, milk, and toilet paper? Well, in Northern Virginia, the list of storm staples apparently includes frozen pizza. For real! I walked down the frozen foods aisle and, along with a noticeable lack of Eggo waffles (due to a national shortage), there was a distinct dearth of frozen pizzas. Surely, I have never seen the pizza freezer looking so sad. Who knew I was this ill-prepared? I'm making a mental note for the future.

Tomorrow it's back to business as usual, which unfortunately includes a lot of shoveling.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Is it too late to plant daffodils?

Well, tomorrow's the day we four-wheel a few vehicles out the driveway. Mike has to go to work in the morning, and two kids have to be at the airport by 10:30 am. Today we thought we'd go out and start sweeping the snow off the cars. One car done, and I found that instead of 18 inches of snow, I now had 36 inches all the way around the car. Obviously, that plan was flawed.

So since the van is the closest thing to the street, we set our sights on uncovering it. Elijah got the snow off, and then Leah and Mike and I started shoveling tire tracks out to the street. Since it's downhill, it should work. I'm not sure how we're getting Mike's car out. I'll let you know tomorrow.

Somehow this doesn't look like much snow in the picture. But trust me, it's a lot. Here's Leah's car, which is going to stay buried until spring, and the trailer, which we moved off the street so the snow plow wouldn't hit it. No worries, the snow plow couldn't even get out of our cul-de-sac this morning at 4:30. My neighbor heard him out there and went out to see if he needed help (at 4:30!!). The guy asked, "Where am I?" Not exactly what you want to hear from your friendly snow plow driver. But apparently they start scraping and just follow the pavement. Neighbor told the guy what street he was on, and Mr. Plow radioed for help. By 7 am there were three trucks in the cul-de-sac, and they finally dug him free. I would have pictures but I was cocooned under my electric blanket.

Tonight's going to be 18 degrees. I think we're in this for the long haul.

But the good news is that I've had plenty of time to work (I did), clean the house (you can't be serious), and cook delicious meals (Leah did that, bless her heart), so all has not been lost. 

Be thankful ~

Karen

I love happy endings and this one made me cry like a baby.

Remember M, the little girl who just wanted her Daddy to come home for Christmas?

He did!

Be thankful ~

Karen

*sigh*

Are you sick of snow yet? Me too. Last time we were outside, we measured 18 inches. It's still snowing.

We are a living, breathing Southwest Airlines commercial. Need to get away?

Here's what we see when we open the back door:

Man-boy eating an icicle he snagged off the deck:

Here's the Adirondack chair on the deck.

I have new appreciation for Laura and Mary in The Long Winter. At least I don't wake up in the morning and shake the snow off my quilts.

Still haven't seen a snow plow, so we're assuming we won't get out tomorrow.

Be thankful ~

Karen

PS. New comment platform.

I'm using a new comment platform. I have been quite frustrated lately by not being able to reply to comments, thank lovely people like you for visiting, and other stuff. I'm using Disqus now, thanks to a recommendation from Melissa (thanks, Melissa!). Please register one time, and you'll never have to do it again (and your information is perfectly safe and secure). Your email address won't be public (but I'll be able to reply to your comments with one click) and other people will be able to click directly to your blog/website (if you have one) making it easier for folks to find you. AND (and this is the best part, at least for me) I'll be able to reply to you, thank you, tell you what a great person you are, etc. without spending a half hour searching for your email address or leaving a comment where you will likely never see it! Isn't that nifty?

So thanks in advance for helping to make the blogging part of my life much easier! I love being able to interact with my readers!

Be thankful ~

Karen

Holy cow, Batman! That's a lotta snow!

They started out saying 4-10 inches. Then it was 10-14. Overnight we got over a foot. Now they're saying another foot today.

Here's what we found on top of the trash cans:

The mailboxes:

The well access, which is at least 18 inches above ground:

Pete, who is in doggie heaven today. He runs around the yard leaping through snow up to his belly, digging his snout in and throwing it in the air. Pure joy.

If I can get out the door later, I'll try to get more pics. Until then, I'm staying by the fire.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Ben's in Kuwait. Look what he's missing!

Busy, busy, busy day. It's already 10:44 pm. The snow they said would be 1-4 inches and was going to start at midnight actually began falling at 6 pm and is now projected to be 14-20 inches. Here's the front porch rail so far:

I'll check in tomorrow morning with an update.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Grammar tidbit for the day.

I got this photo from my daughter today along with a short explanation of how Sticky Bean had been playing with a cupcake paper and choked on a little piece of it. She described the rescue this way: "I jammed my finger down his throat and he gagged it up. Scared me to death!" He thought it was funny:

I'm telling you, this is 100% a type-A kid. He just needs a little excitement to keep him going. Boredom makes him crabby.

Then Abbie sent me this picture from Dallas asking if it really needed a comma. (My kids think I am the answer grape on grammar issues. And yes, my whole family takes pictures of possible grammar errors all over the country. I get these texts all the time.)

And the answer is, no. It does not get a comma. This may be one of the most common grammar mistakes people make, but there is no comma before the word "too" at the end of a sentence. The word is set off in the middle of a sentence with two commas, as in "I, too, think the healthcare bill is a monumental mistake." But at the end of a sentence, the comma is omitted. I remove these commas all the time.

I actually dragged my stuffy head and sore nose to Pilates today, and I knew we were in for it when Queen P. declared it "Plank Day!" in all her bubbly exuberance. If you've never experienced a plank, lie face down on the floor. Now raise up on your hands and toes in the starting push-up position. Keep your body perfectly straight. Stay there. For a really long time. Let me know how long you can hold it. At 30 seconds I am starting to tremble. At 45 I have to hold my breath (big no-no in Pilates. Don't tell Queen P.). When QP gets up to turn the stereo down, I flop so I don't pass out. She comes back, I raise up again. My only consolation is that I'm the oldest person in the class. (I won't tell you I'm only six years older than QP herself.) I just keep saying, "Not bad for an almost-50-year-old."

So we planked. Front planks, and side planks, and side-to-side planks, and finally backward planks on the big bouncy ball. I'm planked out and I need a hot bath.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Is this really considered morning?

Just jumping in here at 3:45 am because I was lying in bed not sleeping and realized I hadn't sent anything to auto-post at 4 am like I usually do. HA! I jest.

I was lying in bed trying desperately to breathe and figured I had better get up and get some steam going so I wouldn't suffocate.

I'm about to go get Abbie up so we can leave for the airport (at 4 am—who schedules these flights?). If I'm coherent later in the day, I'll be back.

Be thankful ~

Karen

ps. Started reading the Duggars' book. I love that family!

Day 3 of the worst cold of my life.

Day 3 actually began on Day 2 when I tried to go to bed at 9 pm. I slept soundly for about 20 minutes. And couldn't sleep for the rest of the night. The waterworks have been turned on in my head, and just about the time I felt drowsy, I would have to get up to blow.  I even tried keeping the box of tissues next to my bed, but for some retarded reason, I have trouble blowing my nose while I'm lying flat on my back. Who can I blame that on?

I finally got up at around 11 and took my tissues to the couch, where I sweated it out (seriously, it was 800° in the living room thanks to our woodstove and a pile of well-seasoned oak).

At 4:30 this morning when my husband left for 2 weeks in Kuwait (great timing, right?), I headed for bed, where I got all comfy-cozy and promptly began the Sneezefest of '09. I honestly don't believe I have ever sneezed so much with a cold. And not just your average, run-of-the-mill sneezes. These are violent, rattle-your-brain, the-kind-they-fake-on-cold-medicine-commercials, make-your-head-spin sneezes. Sneezes that would make Ben proud. As I sit here trying to type, it is literally every 3 minutes or less. And of course a sneeze produces a need to blow, which brings the necessity of washing the hands, and by the time I sit down and type three words, I sneeze again.

At this rate I might be able to finish this post by next week.

My hands are raw from all the washing, my nose is screaming for relief and even Puffs Plus with Lotion are not helping, and the people who make Zicam are liars—it does NOT shorten the duration or lessen the severity of cold symptoms. Unless you are Ben, in which case it is the wonder drug of the century which makes you feel better the INSTANT it dissolves in your mouth.

Hey, I just typed a whole paragraph without sneezing!

And so day 3 continues. I can assure you of this, though. I WILL take sleep-inducing drugs tonight.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Not quite wordless.

This is M. She is five years old. She goes to my church along with her mommy, her one-month-old brother Caleb, and her grandparents. Her daddy is a marine, currently finishing a 6-month tour in Afghanistan. He is due home any day. As you can see, M. adores her daddy. All she wants for Christmas is to have him home.

Next time you see a service person, thank him or her. Their sacrifices are huge.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Monday Metaphor

Hey! I have a blog!

Sorry about the absence. We've been having Internet issues since Saturday morning, and then that night I started having congestion issues which have sprouted into a full-blown cold. Zicam is (hopefully) keeping the worst of it at bay.

So I'm stopping in (via my neighbor's wireless signal—thanks Krista!) to share the Monday Metaphor.

This, from Abbie's facebook status:

Why does it take the room being a complete mess to make it super clean? Is this a metaphor for life?

A friend of hers replied that yes, his "room" is always a mess right before God does something big.

Such wisdom from college students.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Karate and poetry, all in one post.

Well, I'm not getting my funky chair. I'm consoling myself by saying it was probably from the house of a smoker or the cats slept on it or something.

I have my computer set up to play a slide show of all the pictures that are on it instead of going to a screen saver. Most of what's on this computer are pictures Abbie and the man-boy took in Romania when they were there in the summer of 2008. Some of them are cute, others are interesting, but this one made me laugh right out loud.

That's Abbie and a Romanian girl with coneheads, and Evan getting ready to karate-chop them off. This is what our children do on mission trips—break language barriers and have deep, spiritual discussions.

I just spent a half hour on the phone with Abbie talking about her final paper for English. She has to write a poetry explication. Sounds like surgery, and it might be just as painful. She chose this one by Robert Frost:

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

 

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep. 

 

I love this poem. What really struck me about this is that the title sounds so carefree and happy, but then the poem is full of darkness. So what do you think it means?

Be thankful ~

Karen

Finally caught up. Yeah, right.

This morning I was putting laundry in the dryer and thought, "If I just work another two hours today, I'll be caught up." Then I thought, "Who am I kidding?"

Caught up is a fictional ideal which is unrealistic and stress-inducing. Caught up never lasts for more than 12 hours. If I finish the laundry today and get caught up, tomorrow morning there will be two baskets full waiting to be washed. If I edit four hours every day, I will wake up the next morning four hours behind. If I come home with two weeks' worth of groceries, in 10 days people will be wandering around aimlessly wondering what to eat. If I vacuum up all the dog hair, Pete will get out of his crate and shake one time, distributing brindle fur to the four corners of the house.

Ben probably thinks," I'll change the oil in my car, and there will be six more that need an oil change." (That's no exaggeration.) "I'll get this tuition bill paid, and there will be 14 more tuition bills." (At least there's an end to the children going to college, so we know this is a finite number.)

I guess this is why we get up and go back to work every day.

I have done so much work today my eyes are not focusing, and I'm not even kidding. Almost 6 hours of work in one day, learning more about Amelia Earhart than you ever wanted to know! And I even whipped out some stoichiometry with the man-boy in addition to baking bread and making a big pot of soup to share with my neighbor who broke her femur and had a rod put in it on Sunday and came home from the hospital today. *big breath* How's that for productivity?

I found the cutest chair on craigslist today. It's part of a set with a matching sofa, but I don't want the sofa. Just the cool chair. I emailed the owner and asked if he/she would be willing to sell just the chair, but haven't heard back yet. I really hope he/she will sell them separately. What do you think?

The spot of light on the seat isn't a spot. It's just in the photo. I LOVE this chair and really want it. I'm actually considering buying the set and selling the couch. Tune in tomorrow to see how the drama unfolds.

Off to fold laundry and get ready for church.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Where the torture never ends.

One thing I'll say for Queen Pilates, she's creative.

Today we forewent (is that really a word?) the BOSUs and brought out the resistance bands. In case you don't know already, that's a giant rubber band with handles on each end. At the appropriate time (if there ever is one), we wrapped them around the ballet barre that stretches the length of the room and pulled and twisted and worked muscles we'd forgotten we had.

This is a two-edged sword. On the one hand, it's good that the muscles that were beaten to death in the last class get a rest. But on the other hand, Queen P. keeps finding new muscle groups to work. That means you're sore all the time. Is it ok to do exercise to be healthy and then ruin it by taking pain-killers?

Today was definitely a better day than yesterday, lullafause-wise. My hands are killing me and my teeth hurt, but I was able to think a little more clearly and get some work done. Hot flashes are a thing of the past; I got them over with last spring. 3 months' worth and they quit. I was thankful . . . I have a friend who's been having them for TEN YEARS. Can't even imagine.

This lullafausal mama is going to take a hot bath and go to bed.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Rhymes with "lullafause."

That's Abbie's term for my present, um, condition. It's the reason I can't think some days. And the reason I only have arthritis in my hands sometimes. And the reason I hate winter coats today. And struggle with Adobe Reader for an hour and a half before I think of uninstalling and reinstalling it. And have insomnia some nights and sleep like a log others.

Whenever I get unnecessarily stressed out, Abbie says, "You know what's going on here? It rhymes with lullafause." Used to be PMS, but these days, PMS is complicated by lullafause, and it's not pretty.

I'm going to put lullafause to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Be thankful ~

Karen

PS. Leave it to one of my daughters to make me laugh today. Watch this. Thanks, Lovely.

Finally . . . a legitimate lame excuse.

If you've been here for any length of time, say, three or four days, you know that I am taking a Pilates class at my local YMCA. You would know that because I complain about it regularly, or at least twice a week, which is how often we meet. I'm thankful it's only twice-weekly torture—it takes me that long to recover.

Well for the last few days, the outside of my right foot has been pretty sore. It even hurts when I'm in bed and the blankets smush it down, but mostly I just ignore it. Friday it was really bothering me and I mentioned it to Elijah while we were out doing errands. His response was, "Ask Dad," as if Dad were the local orthopedic surgeon or something. I scoffed and said, "How would he know what's wrong with my foot?"

So that night when we were all in the kitchen waiting for supper to be ready, Ben and I had this conversation:

Me: The outside of my foot has really been hurting the last few days. I have no idea what I did to it. 

Ben: Is it right up there by your little toe?

Me (surprised): Yeah. How did you know that?

Ben: It's the BOSU.

Me: What? How do you know?

Ben: It's from trying to balance your whole body on one foot on an unstable surface. You strained the outside of your foot. I never use those things.

Huh. Dr. Ben has spoken. So I'm overjoyed sorry to say I won't be doing any more balancing on the BOSU (not that I ever could do it in the first place). Darn the luck.

In other riveting news, I have finally figured out how to get pictures from my camera to my computer with relative ease. Maybe that will limit the number of grainy, cell-phone images you have to endure. I don't feel too bad about my technical ignorance. I figure everybody has a gift and geek knowledge just isn't mine. That's what I have kids for. At some point I will run out of teenagers (here's where Ben will offer to have his, ahem, surgery reversed and produce another child and I will gracefully decline by saying, "Not on your life, mister."), but hopefully by then I will have learned enough to get by.

On the other hand, if there were any good use for a spiffy-looking Excel spreadsheet or PowerPoint presentation in my real life, I'd win a prize, 'cause I know how to do that. I satisfy my urge to create fancy things by sending my weekly time sheet to my boss in four coordinating colors with nifty fonts and stunning, 3-D charts. She's probably unimpressed; she just wants the totals. Someday my limited skills will come in handy. I just know it.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Wish list for a Sunday.

I wish I had as much energy as Man-boy:

He wishes he had this truck:

Be thankful ~

Karen

How God brought my fbs home again.

I'm not much of a skirt person. I'm more of the jeans-type. But because we go to a Baptist church, I have to wear skirts or dresses on Sundays and Wednesday evenings. So about 3 or 4 years ago, I bought a simple, knee-length, lined black skirt. It's perfect. I can dress it up or down, it fits me perfectly, even when my weight fluctuates by 10 pounds, which it has done several times in the last few years, and I love it (the skirt, not the weight fluctuation).

The last time I wore my favorite black skirt was about a month ago, on the Sunday I went to visit my parents after church. When I got home that night, I decided it needed to go to the dry cleaner, so I folded it and put it . . . somewhere. I don't remember where. And that was the last time I saw it.

For the last week or so, I have been looking for my fbs and haven't been able to find it. I dug through my closet. Tore apart both girls' closets. Looked in the cars. Even stopped at the cleaner to ask if they had it (they didn't). I was about to give up all hope, when I remembered that, at about the same time, I was making a pile of stuff to take to the Goodwill, and it hit me: I must have picked it up with all that other stuff and donated my fbs to total strangers.

I was sick. Do you know how hard it is to find the perfect black skirt? Of course you do. It's like finding jeans. Or a bathing suit. Or a someone you can trust to cut your hair right.

So today Elijah and I stopped at the Goodwill. I braved the December crowds to get inside, but couldn't get to the skirt racks. I went past them, heading down the row of shorts, intending to circle back to the skirts. But before I took two steps down the shorts aisle, THERE WAS MY FAVORITE BLACK SKIRT!! Right there in the shorts!!

I laughed right out loud. I mean, what are the odds of finding that skirt in the middle of all those shorts? After three weeks?? If I had made it to the skirts rack, I would have looked there and not found my fbs and left empty handed! I would never have looked in the shorts!

Never believe God doesn't care about the little things.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Just stopping in long enough to totally gross you out.

We are busy, busy busy! Elijah and I took a trailer full of construction debris to the dump today, swung by the bank, and stopped to get him a haircut. My hands were nasty from the trash, so while he was getting his ears lowered, I went to the back of the barber shop to wash up in the restroom. I didn't anticipate it would be too nasty since there are girl barbers who work there, and it seems like a nice place—we've been going there for five years.

Walked in and turned the light on. There was the usual potty (minus the lid—this little detail will become monumentally important in a moment) and sink. As well as a counter with refrigerator and microwave.

Oh. My. Word. Those people store and cook their food in the BATHROOM! The bathroom whose potty has NO LID.

I was frozen in my tracks. Couldn't even comprehend it. In AMERICA!!! I still feel a little catch in my throat every time I think about it. I may have nightmares.

We'll be finding a new barber shop.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Oysters Rockefeller Casserole, with a side of Pilates.

Someone, sometime in the last few weeks asked for this recipe, and today is as good a day as any to share it. There is nothing exciting happening at the Bensrib house, for which I am very thankful. After last week's festivities and the epic pulling-of-the-pump, we could use a little downtime. This week we are back to work and school and complaining about the incessant rain and the full moon that wakes us up like a SWAT team's spotlight in the window.

Yesterday was my first Pilates class in over a week, and today I am feeling the effects. A BOSU pro, I am not. And as if just standing on the miserable thing weren't bad enough, our instructor has us do actual exercises on it. And stand on one foot!  I was thrilled when I got to lie down across it and do crunches.

We do this:

And this:

And we're supposed to do this (cheeky smile not required):

But this?

What you don't see in this picture is that he is shaking and wobbling, and his ankle is about to self-destruct. Even Queen-Pilates herself has a hard time with this. The rest of us just laugh and fall off. I'm sure it would be good for my core if I could keep my lower extremities intact.

But enough pathetic whining. On to the oysters.

You'll need:

1 1/2 qts. raw oysters, well drained

1/2 cup butter
2 rib celery, finely chopped
1 large onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup fresh parsley, finely chopped (I've used dried, just less of it)
2 (10-oz.) packages frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
1/2 teaspoon anise seed
1/2 cup Worcestershire sauce
1 generous cup soft, fresh bread cubes (I actually use more than this—maybe 1 1/2 cups—and cut the cubes small)
Salt and pepper, to taste
Cayenne pepper, to taste (don't use much—a generous pinch maybe)

1 cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese
A sprinkling of bread crumbs (plain or Italian seasoned)

Preheat oven to 450° and grease a 13x9 dish. Drain oysters very well on paper towels and arrange in a single layer in casserole.

In a large skillet over medium heat, melt butter and saute celery and onions until they begin to soften. Add parsley, spinach, anise seed, Worcestershire, soft bread cubes, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Stir well together. Spread this mixture over the oysters evenly.

Bake for 30 minutes on the middle shelf. Remove from oven. If necessary, remove excess water that may have accumulated from the oysters. Sprinkle with grated cheese and a very thin layer of bread crumbs. Return dish to oven for 10 minutes or until slightly brown.

*Recipe from Louisiana Creole & Cajun Cooking by Margaret Maring.

Be thankful ~

Karen

I am the Thanksgiving anti-stereotype.

I did not eat too much turkey (although we deep-fried four of them). I did not OD on pie or cheesecake or homemade fudge. I didn't even eat any gravy. I did not face two refrigerators full of leftover stuffing and sweet potato casserole. And I did not leave my house on Black Friday, hallelujah, glory to God.

It was close, though. We got up Friday morning and found a distinct lack of International Delight French Vanilla coffee creamer in both refrigerators. It was not a joyful realization. The children were willing to do without coffee (does that mean I've failed as a mother?). I was willing to dump a spoonful of sugar in it and suffer it down. But my hero, who just days earlier hauled my well pump up and down 330 feet three times and restored running water a mere 12 hours before our 23 guests arrived for the Thanksgiving feast, went to the grocery store for my morning happiness. I talked him into going to Food Lion rather than Wal-Mart, knowing the madhouse that WM would be. Unfortunately, FL doesn't carry International Delight French Vanilla coffee creamer in anything larger than a pint bottle, so that's what he got. Divide one pint by four people and three days, and by Monday you have none. We will be going to Wal-Mart tomorrow, where they sell it in half-gallons.

Deb, David, and Sticky Bean drove home today, Abbie is back at school, Ben, Mike, and Leah went back to work, and that left Elijah and me at home with no choice but to vacuum up the week's worth of dog hair, put the house back together, and do school. Add to that 4 1/2 hours of editing, four loads of laundry, and a big pot of homemade spaghetti sauce, and you have my day. I'm ready for bed. Gotta get my energy up for the Wal-Mart trip.

Be thankful ~

Karen