A sock is a stocking, right?

Don't you love those moments when you look at your kids and go "That's my boy/girl!"?

Me too. They did it again Christmas morning. See, what had happened was....

Even though they don't believe in Santa anymore, Santa still gives them the awesome gifts and Mom gives them the "eh" stuff. You know, like....curtains. Santa wrapped all the presents, including those from Mom, too, apparently. (He stole my wrapping paper.) They all went under the tree Christmas Eve morning.

I'm not sure why I told you that. It has nothing to do with this story. Well, except for the fact that Santa put out the presents Christmas Eve morning, but came back that night to put candy in the stockings. Not very time efficient of you, Santa. Moving along...

For the little ones in the family I made chocolate lollipops and put them in plastic Christmas cups along with wrapped Christmas chocolates. I had a few left over, so before we all went to bed I dropped the leftovers in the kids' stockings. After they were in bed, I added more candy to their stockings and went to sleep.

Christmas morning, about 8-something, I was still trying to catch a couple more hours sleep when my son came in to wake me up, like he hasn't done since he was a little boy. (You've seen my son? Do you know how long ago that was??) He had turned on my apple pie Scentsy to make the house smell good and had the Christmas music playing.

The kids got their stockings down and mine looked heavy. I didn't put anything in it, but the handful of Christmas candy that I had placed in Christopher's stocking was suspiciously missing from his lode. I dumped mine and lo and behold...there they were. Plus some Hershey's kisses that I didn't put into anyone's stocking.

"I can't let you have an empty stocking on Christmas," he said. I didn't cry, but I thought about it.

They've done this before. Actually, I think they do it every year, and every year it gets me. But I reminded him of the first time they did this.

The first Christmas on our own, in 2007, I didn't even have a stocking. I didn't have any of our old Christmas stuff and had to buy everything new. I bought stockings for the kids, but I figured I'd get myself a stocking later. Maybe the next year.

So Christmas morning Christopher got one of his clean socks out of his drawer and both kids took candy from their stockings and filled one for me.

I'm not sure what I did to deserve such fantastic kids, but I am so thankful for them!!

(Of course, by the next year I made sure I had my own stocking. The sock thing was cute, but I mean, it was a sock! I'm just thankful it was clean!)

Hope y'all's Christmas was a good one!!

Pineapple Sandwiches Part 2

If you ever wonder who’s reading your blog posts, blog about pineapple sandwiches. My last post sparked a minor Facebook frenzy…mostly commented on by people who have tasted these Anderson Pineapple Sandwiches and know I’m right.

But the cool thing is, it turns out that my conversation with my mom not only spawned a blog post, followed by more conversations with her, my daughter  and my sister about these sandwiches, but I also had other members of my family talking about them. Yep, pineapple sandwiches were the hot topic leading up to this year’s Anderson Christmas Party.

My cousin Teri, God bless her, took it upon herself to tackle this top secret recipe so we didn’t have to go without. She called Marcia, the Official Pineapple Sandwich Maker, and got the exact recipe. Y’all….we had not one but TWO trays of pineapple sandwiches!! 

LOOK!!!

They were good, too.  I had to laugh at Dennis, because I watched him snag one before anybody started fixing plates. Apparently Teri wouldn’t let him near them before the party. And he thought no one was looking. Pssht!! ;) 

Would you believe I actually got TWO???

And there were LEFTOVERS!!!!  Rhonda and Christopher polished off the last two right before we walked out the door at the end of the night.

Let me tell you why this is strange. As my cousin Amy and I sat there noshing on our first one, we happily reminisced about how everybody was only allowed to get one, because Uncle Archie only brought one tray of them. They are literally the only food I remember that was on every Anderson table, from the picnic tables at Anderson’s Pond to Nanny’s dining room table at Christmas. And y’all, we know how to put out a spread. But these…if you weren’t at the head of the line, you probably wouldn’t get one. People were watching to see how many you took, too, and would call you out in a minute if you took more than one. That’s what my mama said, anyway. 

Seriously, I almost feel a little silly causing such a furor over a small pile of circular bread, mayonnaise and pineapple with a cherry on top.

But it’s really much more than a sandwich. These stories…this is what those pineapple sandwiches are really about. There were more than 50* folks milling around Leslie’s house tonight (and that wasn’t even close to all of us), and 95 percent of them share my memories of these things. People read my silly ramblings and talked about them before we even got to Leslie’s. We talked about them as we ate them. We remembered. We laughed. It was awesome!

I told you Uncle Archie started bringing them in the first place. Well, neither Uncle Archie nor his wife, Aunt Elizabeth, is with us anymore. Neither is my Grandaddy nor my Nanny.

See, five brothers and their wives started this family. Uncle Archie was my Grandaddy’s brother. Of the five brothers, one is still with us. Of the five wives, we still have three. But as long as someone is willing to make them, we still have the pineapple sandwiches. And when we eat them and tell the stories, we remember Uncle Archie. And Nanny and Grandaddy. And Uncle John. And Uncle Richard. There all there, even though we may not say their names. Because just like the sandwiches leave us wanting more, so do the stories of gatherings past. But the difference is, we will never run out of stories and we share them freely!

*I suck at estimation. There could have been 50 people there. There could have been 90. There could have been 20. It was a lot. That is all I know. Carry on.

P.S. Leslie was telling me that it felt strange to her be having this party at her house. She felt like we should be at Nanny’s.  I can’t remember if I’ve blogged about our Christmases at Nanny’s. If I haven’t, I promise I will. I relish the opportunity to relive them.

The Sandwiches of Pineapple

I am starting to think that this whole internet down thing is a good thing. For one, it forces me to get out of that chair. That's good. Movement reminds me how little I do it. My house is getting cleaner. I'm seeing my friends family more, because they have computers that work. (I'm KIDDING! (Kinda). I really do love you!!!)

Moving on....

Speaking of family, I'm gonna see a whole slew of them Saturday at the annual Christmas party. But what my mom and I were talking about yesterday were The Pineapple Sandwiches. I don't think anybody's going to bring them this year and that makes me kind of sad. See, these aren't just any pineapple sandwiches. These are special pineapple sandwiches. Anybody can make them, but not to serve to the Anderson clan.

It doesn't look like we will have any this year because our Official Pineapple Sandwich Maker won't be able to make it.

And no, someone else can't do it. As I said, these are special pineapple sandwiches. If they can't be done right, they won't be done at all. We can't fly in the face of tradition! Marcia's family has to make them, because she has The Glass. She inherited it from Uncle Archie, the original Official Pineapple Sandwich Maker. I've never seen this glass. I've only heard of its existence. But it is the Holy Grail of glasses, because it cuts the Pineapple Sandwich Bread to the precise circumference of the pineapple slice. Now you or I might just use the can, or any old glass, but to be the Anderson Pineapple Sandwich, it has to be made with The Glass.

You can't just use any old ingredients, either. No, sir. There is a recipe and a method to these sandwiches. Me and Mama aren't certain, but we're pretty sure there is the right brand of bread, pineapple and maraschino cherries. Of course....there has to be! And the mayonnaise! It can't be just any old mayonnaise. I know one of my cousins will help me out here. I think it's Dukes, but I'm not sure. Please don't disown me, but I don't remember!!

So then, the bread slices are cut into perfect circles with The Glass. One side of each is carefully coated with a thin layer of Special Brand Mayonnaise. Then the pineapple slices, I believe, are further carefully sliced into smaller slivers than DelMonte deemed appropriate. They are carefully placed on one these mayonnaised circles. Another mayonnaised circle is placed on top, and a cherry half -- meticulously wiped free of excess juice that would stain the perfectly white top and my favorite part of the whole sandwich -- is carefully centered in the exact middle of The Sandwich.
 
Us children in the family used to fight our way to the front of the serving line in the hopes of getting one of these delectable creations, of which there were never enough of! Sad was the kid who reached the tray to find it empty. Some people eat them in two bites. I prefer to nibble and savor the pineapple/cherry bliss. After all, if you manage get two of these bad boys at one get-together you can count yourself lucky! There are never leftovers.

For those of you who have never tasted this manna and IF you are, by chance, turning up your nose at the thought of it (which has been done), all I have to say to you is: Don't knock it til you've tried it. They are almost as awesome as my Nanny's banana cake!!

Offline

, We are in crisis mode in the Kaylor house.

Our internet is down. I would tell you why, but I don't know myself. Something about the IP address and my computer's inability to find one. My IT department (also known as my brother-in-law), is trying to fix it. Bless him.

All I know is, I have stories to write (read: money to make) and no access to Google. Or email. Or Facebook. Or Blogger. See? Crisis. This is my sanity we're talking about here, people!!

My sweetie loaned me his laptop today so I can get some work done. In my jammies. (I'm just kidding. I'll get dressed. Eventually.) And so that the teenagers in the house can check Facebook before they experience a nuclear meltdown. And so that I can scribble a quick note to you to say...

.....please bear with us as we are experiencing technical difficulties.



*I've always wanted to say that.

**Not really.

A Christmas Ronicle

For you, dear friend who loves The Ronicles!

The thing about exes is that it’s easy to remember all the bad stuff. It’s harder to remember the good times. Especially with an ex that is as, shall we say, “special” as mine was.

But he wasn’t all bad. Especially at Christmas. That man loved him some Christmas as I recall, though I didn’t discover this until much later. (I'm still paying for some of them.) That first Christmas we almost didn’t even have a tree…or a dinner.

We married on Dec. 3, 1994. He had just taken a job in Louisville, Ga., and was driving an hour to work each way in a car I’m convinced was held together with leaking oil, spray paint and brake dust. No, really. The back seat had been removed, the door handle was a bungee cord and he drove with a blanket over his lap because there was no heater. *Sigh* I popped my first clutch in this car. Mashing it to change gears was completely optional.  Yep, this was the first car I ever had to push start. I think.

Ah, good times. We lived in a tiny two-bedroom house near Thermal Ceramics. It sunk in the middle. If you look at it from the street, it makes an interesting U shape from floor to ceiling. I want to say rent was about $325, but the landlord never collected a dime. Not because we didn’t try to pay him (to my knowledge), but we could never find the guy. At least that’s what I was told. I do know we did some work on the place. Ron repainted, rearranged the bathroom, replaced the water heater and tried to repair the heater. There were no appliances, and we couldn’t afford to buy any, but we did find a gas stove on the back porch. Ron cleaned it up and managed to get two burners working enough for me to cook on. I had to light them with a long lighter. The oven didn’t work at all, but we managed.

To me the house was beautiful. Well, maybe not beautiful, but it was mine. I had a family, like I wanted so badly to have, and as far as I was concerned this place was just a stepping stone to new and better things. We can’t all start out in grand homes, can we? (Don’t answer that.)

Anyway, so there we were, broke newlyweds and Christmas was coming. I believe we said we weren’t going to buy each other gifts. Decorations cost money we didn’t have. But on Christmas Eve, he went out and bought us a little 4-foot Christmas tree and a few decorations. I don’t believe I bought him anything. I honestly can’t remember. But the tree was my present, and I relished decorating it. On Christmas morning I opened an oversized Snoopy sweatshirt that I wore all winter. It had plenty of room for my growing belly. There were other small, dollar-store presents, but I don’t remember anymore what they were.

But the funniest thing that year – I don’t remember if this was Christmas Eve or Christmas Day — was the Christmas ham. His boss had given it to him as a bonus and we froze it. Novice housewife that I was, I didn’t think to put it into the fridge to thaw a few days before. I mean, why would I? We didn’t have an oven to cook it in. But Ron decided he wanted ham for dinner. It was Christmas, after all, and we could at least cook a couple of ham steaks in the frying pan. So he commenced to sawing on this frozen ham with a hacksaw. No, really. Not even a butcher knife. A blue hacksaw! I wish I could assure you this thing hadn’t been used before, that he at least went out and bought a new, clean one. I don’t remember, but I really don't think so! An whole hour later he managed to cut a lovely scratch into it. A deep one, sure, but a scratch nonetheless.

We ate Salisbury steaks for Christmas dinner…and I believe we threw the ham away.

The way o' things

Something happened last week that made me think, and I wanted to share it with you because it kind of made me feel like a statistic. I think it just speaks to the state of our economy right now.

I went to apply for a part-time seasonal job. I won't say where because, well...I just won't. It was recommended and it seemed like a great idea at the time. So I picked up the application and spoke to the manager. But before I could put pen to paper I realized I could lose my unemployment benefits by accepting the job, and the job couldn't pay what I need it to in order to pay my bills. Sad, right? I'm not supposed to turn down work, but what do you do in a case like that? So I thought I'd pick up more applications for part time jobs and I made a few inquiries, but there's no guarantee I'd get a first job, let alone a second one. And how would I pay the bills in the mean time? It felt like too much to lose, so I gave the application to my son. It seemed much more suited to a 16-year-old anyway.

But it made me think for a second. Here I am with a college degree, submitting applications for jobs that my son, who is too young to have any experience, is just as qualified for. Something is very wrong with this scenario. But there it is. I think that's just the state of things right now. I've already applied for a job as a cashier in a couple of different places. When I was 16 I was a cashier. If I had been hired this time, it would have been like the last 20 years and all those term papers had never happened. But I would have been so thankful to have a job.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still applying for jobs that require resumes. It's just that nobody is calling back. On any level.  And that, as everyone tells me, is just the way things are right now.

Before you feel too sorry for me, something did happen yesterday that gives me a little hope. God does work in mysterious ways. If it comes through, I will happily share it. But for now, say a little prayer that something will turn up for us, will you?

Rainy days and Mondays, and all that jazz

I ain't complainin' but I'm tired so I'm just sayin' what I think. -- Martina McBride

I try stay positive in my blog posts. Personally, I don't want to read someone else's drivel and I want this to be something y'all enjoy reading. But realistically, I am an unemployed single mother..and it's almost Christmas. Some days it's hard to keep my chin up. Today is one of those days.

It's raining. That doesn't help. I slept late. That doesn't help, either. It felt great, but I woke up wishing I had somewhere to be. More precisely, I woke up wishing I had a job to go to. It's 3 p.m. and I just got out of the shower. (I do want it to be known this is the exception rather than the rule.)

I dunno. I used to think that I wanted to marry rich so I could stay home all day and write my little stories and maybe become a best selling author. I didn't marry, I sure ain't rich, and excepting this blog and a few freelance stories, I haven't written much of anything. But my needs are met. I have enough to pay the bills. I don't have to ask for help very much. We have plenty to eat and share. I really don't have anything to complain about. I am blessed. I know I am. But I still can't shake this funk. It's more than money. Maybe I'm just bored.

I miss feeling important. I miss feeling some sense of accomplishment. I miss my friends and coworkers. I miss that sense of fraternity you have in a group of people who spend 3/4 of their lives together. And here I used to think the work I did did not matter. Perhaps it mattered to me more than I thought.

Okay. Pity party over. I have to go accomplish some laundry. If we run out of clean unmentionables, the work I don't do will very much matter!

Christmas memories

I'm beginning to dream in tinsel.

Thanksgiving is Thursday, and the day after starts my favorite four weeks of the entire year. No, not the shopping season. I hate shopping. But I love Christmas!

I'll wait until the turkey is digested, but I'm already starting to mentally reconfigure my living room to find the best place to put my Christmas tree. I adore decorating for Christmas. I make a big deal of it, too. I turn some Christmas music on, light an apple cinnamon scented candle and threaten death and dismemberment if anyone dares touch the TV remote. By the time I'm finished, I will be so glad to be done and that evening after I've sent the kids to bed, I'll turn off all the lights in the house except the Christmas tree. I'll probably fix a cup of decaf or hot tea, and I'll sit in the dark and stare at that tree and think of how blessed I am. And I'll probably remember Christmases past.

It's on my mind now anyway. WBBQ is already playing nonstop Christmas music, ads are everywhere and it's almost Thanksgiving. Plus, Catie left my photo albums out and I smiled when I saw the Christmas ones.

I thought I'd share a few. Now I want to raid my mom's photo albums, too!

This one sums up all the Christmases of my youth. Or all Christmases until 2001, when my Nanny died. This picture would have been taken midmorning-Christmas, maybe 2000. I'm thinking this may have been our last Christmas at Nanny's. That's me under all that hair, smiling down at Christopher's little overalled self. Maybe he was dancing? Joey's on my right, and my cousin Amy is beside him. Uncle Lester is on my left. But look at all the presents! This was Christmas at Nanny's and it was my favorite part of the holiday. Me and Rhonda, my parents, my aunts and uncle and my cousins would all converge on Nanny's house about 10 a.m. Christmas morning, after we all had a chance to do our own Santa Clause Christmas thing. Dinner would be kept warm in the kitchen and spread out on the dining room table, and we'd spend about two hours around the tree opening presents.

Uncle Roy was meticulous about being Santa, and he took his job very seriously. Each person got only one present at a time, and you didn't get another one until everyone else had a chance to open one. Not only that, but each present had to be opened and appropriately oohed and ahhhed over before the next present could be opened. He was also careful about not making the kids wait too long between presents, so they didn't get bored.

That's Uncle Roy in the Santa hat.

And that's Nanny holding Catie.

Here's a couple from the next year at our house. I'm adding them here because they are cute!

Christopher

Catie and Grandma Pat

Catie. Is she bobbing for presents?? Rhonda's keeping her from diving off.

Apps and apples...and chips

I got a new phone Friday. I had to. My old one died.

Okay, it didn't really die. It just...well, it would have died. Once I threw it up against the wall. After it locked up on me. Again.

I was eligible for an upgrade, so I thought, heck yeah! A cooler phone for FREE! Now I can get rid of that stinking touch screen keyboard.
I love most things about my new phone. I found the COOLEST App! It's cool to me anyway, because I'm a nerd like that. It's called Out of Milk (go look it up. I'll wait.) It lets me keep a grocery list ON MY PHONE. No, really! No more running to the notepad on the fridge dripping from the shower in the mornings because I don't want to forget again that I'm almost out of dryer sheets. It also lets me keep a pantry list so that I won't one day find myself staring at five shelves full of McCormick spices and wondering if I still have...or ever bought...coriander. I will know with a quick check of my phone.

Now, I've had organizers and stuff before. Like on the computer. I'm pretty sure I had a notepad on my last phone that would have been great for making grocery lists. But it only works if you use it, and until now I've never seen any that were terribly user-friendly. This thing has a voice command. It's quite friendly, indeed. I can be flying down I-20, blaring Def Leppard and suddenly remember that the next time I go to the store, I need to make sure I pick up more coffee filters. I can add it to my list right then. Or better yet, when I'm in the check out line at Kroger with a slap-full buggy during the 6 p.m. rush hour and remember that I need barbecue sauce for the pork roast I'm about to purchase--but I don't feel like leaving the line to go get it--I can add it right there to my grocery list for the next shopping trip. True story. (Okay honestly...I typed it into my list. Speaking it would have made me look kinda stupid.)

The voice thingy isn't always very good at listening, though. Before I went Krogering, I spoke my list into my phone and then asked the kids what kind of snacks they wanted me to get. "That big bag of (single serving) chips you got last time worked out really well. Get those," Christopher said.

So I spoke "chips" into my handy dandy digital shopping list.
"Cats" it wrote.
Um....no.
"Chips" I said again.
"No matches found" it said.
Really? It's friggin' potato chips! Look again!
"Chips" I said.
"S***" it wrote.
You're kidding me.
That would be the exact lettering, too, by the way.

Catie took the phone from my hand. You know, before I could throw it.
"Chips" she said.
"Chips-potato
Chips-tortilla
Chips-chocolate" it asked.

What the heck??

Dear Tag Cloud, I love you!

I don't know if you noticed, but I found some new playtoys on Blogger.

I wanted to show them to you, in case you didn't notice. If you like my blog (and you know you do), there is a now link for you to share it on Facebook and Twitter. Please feel free to do this often!

You were already able to follow me on Blogger, but now you can follow me by email, too. Just type your email addy into the box on the right there.

I also added a tag cloud. It's still kind of a work in progress, but now you can browse my blog by subject. I've been wanting one of these things for months and just now figured out where to find it. Tech savvy, yes I am!

If there's something else you'd like to see or something that would make this blog more useful to you, please tell me. I'm always open to suggestion.

Oh, and look for polls and feedback opportunities in the near future, because those just looked like fun. Later, when I have more time, I'm gonna see what other kinds of goodies I can find!

Single parent life support

I was talking to a friend yesterday about what it's like being a single parent.

It's a hard thing to describe. Like I told her, I've been doing this for five years now. It's all I know anymore. She understood.

I remember when she became a single mother herself three or four years ago. She told me once back then, "I don't know how you do it." I thought, "Do what?? Nothing I do is done well." It's the plate spinning analogy I made a while back. I must have looked like I had it all together, but I remember feeling like I was dropping a lot of plates. Still do from time to time.

She and I talked about support systems. It's so important to have a community of single parents who can relate to you. It's not the same as being with a group of young marrieds, or never-marrieds. People who have never had kids have no idea what it's like to live by a schedule that is dictated by mealtimes and bedtimes. I can't imagine eating whatever I can find whenever I get hungry. At 6 p.m. it's dinnertime, whether I'm hungry or not. The kids have to eat. And everything I do costs three times as much as it would if it were just me, so something as small as going out to dinner isn't necessarily a simple thing.

People who have spouses have someone there who can run to the store for a gallon of milk at 9 p.m. while they're getting the kids off to bed. (Okay...true. I have teenagers. In my house it's more like, "I'm going to the store. Be ready for bed when I get back or else!") There's also someone there to let them know if they're being unreasonable with the kids, or how best to handle a bad report card, or to help figure out what to do if the car makes a funny noise....and how to pay for it. I have that, too, because God gave me a wonderful family. But I have to go outside of my own four walls to get it -- something I didn't have to do when I was married.

After a while you learn to accept that there's only so much you can do by yourself. You learn to focus on what's important and let the rest go. (Which is why the dust bunnies frolic happily under my couch!)

I was telling my friend about my Sunday School class. They are the reason I love Warren so much. It's a small group, but they are wonderful people. Once a month or so we get together to socialize. Maybe we take kids, or maybe everyone chips in for a babysitter and we go out "adults only." One weekend we might get together and go clean a member's yard. Or we might go clean someone's house.

We did that a few weeks ago for our leader. He's a single father of four and he runs his own business. But he's so busy trying to help others that he doesn't have time to take care of some things at home. I remember him saying once that he felt guilty for taking an afternoon off to veg in front of the TV. The whole class jumped in to tell him that it's not only okay to rest, it's necessary. He takes care of what's important, and that is what matters.

Therein lies the real value of a single-parent network. This is what we really do for each other. As single parents, we (at least I know I) tend to focus on the things we can't do, the things we don't have, the things we do but don't do as well as we'd like. Our single-parent support group is there to point out all of the things we are doing, what we do have and what we do well. They remind us that we're not doing as bad of a job as we think we are.

She's found the same thing in her church, and she seems very happy now. I'm reminded that I really shouldn't wait so long to talk to her again. :)

Some things matter, most things don't

Christopher, Daddy and I went to Granny's yesterday to pick up a new-to-me couch. I really only expected to get the couch, but I ended up with two good coats, a lamp for my nightstand, a jewelry armoir -- I've always wanted one -- and a few other things.

My cousin Leslie and I walked through the house, opening drawers and closets and looking through her things for anything we might want or need. A lot of things were already gone, but there was still a houseful. Granny had lots of stuff.

Everytime I find myself party to this...for lack of a better term....disassembling of a life, it strikes me again how little all this stuff means. I think about people who sacrifice relationships because they're so busy working -- to make money to buy things -- but they can't take even the smallest token with them when they go.

I'll be honest. I don't know anybody like this. I don't know why it hits me the way it does. Maybe I put too much emphasis on things myself. I do struggle with it sometimes. I want stuff. I want my own house. I want to buy new furniture for it. I want to walk onto a car lot and buy a brand new car. I want a condo at the beach...and in the mountains. I want an RV -- one of those big, bus sized ones that's decked out like a mini-apartment. I want things big and small. And I could do it, if I worked hard enough. Of course I could. I could work harder than I do (okay...when I have a job. I'll admit I don't work very hard right now!) But I value my relationships. I like being home by 6 p.m. so I can cook dinner for my kids. I like having time to meet a friend for lunch, or just hanging out at my sister's or my mom's for no reason other than to just be there. I like having time to go to dinner or a movie with my boyfriend. I can't imagine being so involved with work that I would want to give that up...for things. Because in my mind, that would have to be the trade-off.

Besides, one day people will be digging through my stuff like this. It won't be great stuff, but hopefully they will find stuff they can use.

I got a little deep on y'all there, didn't I? Guess I'm feeling a little pensive this morning. Y'all have a great day! :)

What's scarier than a bowl of leftover Halloween candy?

We are three days past Halloween. Luckily, there are no jack o'lanterns filled with candy to haunt me this year, and the little bowl full of candy I did have sitting out is long gone.

No...the only creepy traces of this year's black-and-orange holiday are on my daughter's eyes.

I'm mean. That's what she tells me, anyway. She's 13, but I don't let her wear eye makeup yet. She already looks 18. (Okay...maybe only 16.) If I start letting her wear makeup she'll look 30 and frankly, that scares the bejeebus out of me.

If memory serves (and it probably doesn't), I wasn't allowed to wear eye makeup until I was 16. I remember being her age and trying to learn the fine art of makeup. I gave Dee Snyder a run for his money.

(Remember him, from Twisted Sister? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRwrg0db_zY&ob=av2e  Yeah, the blonde guy.)

Okay, now picture him without the eye makeup, and with pink lipstick instead of red, smeared on with the same intensity. Now picture him with short, dark brown hair, a tan, big pink owl-shaped earrings and trying his level best to blend into the wallpaper. Yep, that was me in 7th grade.

I was happy to try to wear whatever makeup I could in the hopes it would make me cool enough to hang out with the other kids. (It didn't. They just laughed.)

Not my child. For starters, she doesn't understand the concept of blending into the wallpaper. The other girls are trying to be cool enough to hang out with her, from the looks of things. Regardless, I have told her she can wear blush and lipstick. She'd rather not. She wants the eye makeup.

Which brings us to Halloween night. She said she wanted to dress up. She had her "costume" all picked out. A bright red T-shirt with a vampire face that said "Bite me", a pair of jeans, and  boots. And of course, makeup.

She went for my favorite waterproof eyeliner and smeared it on. Yep, she looked like Ozzy Osbourne!! I told her if she ever did get to wear eye makeup, it better never look like that!

It's not like she wants to trick or treat. She just wants to be able to wear eye makeup, and this is the only day of the year I will let her. She walked around with her little cousins, and was happy to feel all grown up for an evening.

Then came time to take it off. I was out of eye makeup remover, so I took her into the kitchen with a cotton ball and a bar of Dove, and I proceeded to scrub that hot mess off her pretty little face. I did the best I could without scrubbing her eyeball, and told her she would have to do the rest. She claims she tried.

But as I said, here we are three days later and she still looks made up. Not Ozzy made-up, thankfully, but it's still there. I'm thinking she's sneaking back into my bathroom in the mornings and ever-so-lightly touching it up. After all, "It's waterproof, Mom!"

Right.

Guess what Mema brought us today? Yep! Some Clinique eye makeup remover. Goodbye, Ozzy!

Heh heh heh heh (You couldn't hear me, but I totally sounded like the Wicked Witch of the South just then!)

Kisses

My last first kiss was a few days shy of a couple of months ago.

I don't like first kisses. I know that's not a popular sentiment, but I don't. They're awkward. I mean, think about it. He's leaning toward you, but you don't know what to expect. "Should I go left or should I go right?" "Is he going to give me a quick smack on the lips, or something a little more 'in depth.'"  His lips feel strange and unfamiliar. It's just....awkward.

Second kisses are my favorite. These would be the ones that happen like five seconds after the first one, when you've broken apart, maybe said something, given him a hug, caught your breath and went back for more. Or maybe it happens later than that. Maybe you've danced another dance, or talked about the weather, or...whatever. Either way, it's a lot less awkward and a heck of a lot sweeter.

The first kiss is about learning. The second kiss is about giving in to the feeling and just completely enjoying it.

That said, I think the best thing about first kisses is the prelude.

For instance, Robb and I were in the middle of nowhere, dancing under the stars to some power ballads on his iPod. (Did I mention he's a total child of the '80s? Here was proof he speaks my language.)
So we're dancing (maybe he can tell you the exact song. I think he memorized the playlist. I'm afraid the music was the last thing I was paying attention to) when he stops and says, "I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid I might get slapped. So can I tell you something?"
Not seeing it coming, I said, "Of course."
He said, "What I want to tell you is this...."

(He most definitely did not get slapped.)

Glenn and I were sitting on a picnic table at the lake, staring out at the moonlight on the water and talking about...who knows what.
Out of the blue, he said, "It's been a long time since I've done this (meaning dating), but there's something I really want."
So I leaned in and kissed him.
He said, "Yeah. That."

Michael....I don't remember really what he said before the first "real" kiss. I think with him I just knew it was about to happen. It kind of evolved over a couple of dates, moving from hugs to quick pecks to an honest-to-goodness kiss. It was a kiss goodbye at the end of a date, and had been highly anticipated.

I wish I'd paid more attention to this a long time ago. It would have been fun to write them down. I mean, as horrible as this sounds, I don't really remember my very first kiss.

Well...okay. I remember being 6 and kissing Bo Skipper behind the Charlie Brown tree in my front yard.
We were playing house and we were the parents. We had sent Rhonda to school, conveniently located in the back yard.
We hid behind the tree because I was terrified of being caught.
"Long or short?" he'd asked.
"Short." I'd said.
I was afraid of what exactly a long kiss might entail.
So he gave me a quick smack on the lips, and then we scampered off to find my sister. I'm pretty sure I was blushing.

I remember my first "real" boyfriend. Of course I do. He was my high school sweetheart. I still see him from time to time and I love his family. But I don't remember our first kiss. (Sorry, Joe.) I'm thinking we were on my couch one Sunday after church, but I just don't remember anymore how it went down. I mean, that was 20+ years ago.

I don't remember my first kiss with Jason, nor my first kiss with Ron at all. Of course, I'm probably blocking them out. (You can't see me, but I just let out a tooth-chattering shudder.)

So now I'm curious. What are your thoughts on the subject? Oh, and please share your stories!

A Single Point of View: Quick hits

A Single Point of View: Quick hits: A few thoughts, then I've got to get moving. It's 9:30 a.m. and I'm still in my jammies! * My run at the Chronicle seems to be through. Ag...

Quick hits

A few thoughts, then I've got to get moving. It's 9:30 a.m. and I'm still in my jammies!

* My run at the Chronicle seems to be through. Again. For now. It was kind of nice while it lasted. The biggest downside was that I had to say bye to all my friends again.Yep. I'm a sentimental fool. Of course, this time it didn't sting quite so bad. I'll probably be back again at some point. LOL

* I haven't talked to any famous people this week. Ah, well. There's always next week, right? ;)

* I'm finally gonna get my hair did today. My sister makes me look so good! This will be the first time Rhonda's done it since she did my hair in Germany. That wasn't my last haircut, of course, but I can't wait for her to do it again.

* Robb gave me tulips a few days ago. They're starting to wilt. I've been staring at them all morning. I keep thinking how pretty they look even though they're dying. The stallks are still green, the flowers are still pink and yellow, and the blooms are in tact. They're just drooping. I don't think I've ever paid much attention to tulips before. They're dying gracefully. They're stll beautiful. I almost want to cry.

* I think I'm going to renew my commitment to writing that book. The stories just keep coming up in conversation with different people. I'm retelling anyway, might as well put them on paper. Plus I've been out of work two months and it occurs to me that if I had written on it a little every day, I would have a big chunk of it done by now. Perhaps I will start making that the first thing I do in the mornings after I get Catie off to school.

* Which means I better get moving now, huh? Later taters.

Whew. It's only been a week. I was afraid I'd find it's been two!

This week's been crazy. I'm back at the Chronicle, but on a day-to-day basis. The person who usually does the calendars (is it bad that I really want to call her the "Calendar Girl"??) is out sick and well...they can't afford to get behind. It's cool for me. It pads my wallet, I get to see my former co-workers, and I get none of the stress. It's a win-win-win situation. Except I'm doing calendars. I'll admit...it's bearable. Maybe because it's only my life for a few days.

(I think I have Calendar Girl on the brain. I have to interview Neil Sedaka tomorrow morning. I'll be studying him tonight. Yes, I'm nervous. It ought to be interesting.)

I think I've gotten lazy. I came home tonight tired, but before I sat down to blog I swept the kitchen, vacuumed, started supper and dug my kitchen table out from under a mountain of papers. (The desk is next.) It makes no sense. When I'm home all day, I have the hardest time making myself pick up a broom. Working does a body (and apparently a house) good, I tell ya!

On a different note, the other night Robb took me and the kids out to dinner with two of his three. It was the first time I met the younger one, and first time our kids met each other. His kids seem like really good kids. Someone once told me good kids come from good parents. The more I learn about this guy the better I like him.

And the four of them got along really well. Catie later declared Justin (Robb's oldest) to be just like Christopher. Apparently, while Robb and I were away from the table getting dessert, Christopher was picking at her. She turned to Justin and said "See what I have to put up with?" He laughed at her and said "What? I don't see anything wrong." Oh, boy!

Okay...I've got to finish supper. I'll try not to be gone so long. I know I keep saying that, but...you know... ;-)

Writing!

I just finished writing my first Today's Home as a freelancer. That was fun!

I think it's better than some of the ones I was turning in while I was working, just because I actually had time to think about what I was writing. It's nice. When you've got a million things due like today, it feels like you throw words on a page just to have something to turn in.

I've been working on this since about 9:30 a.m., and it's now noon-thirty. I'm still in my jammies and socks, and I really need a bath! I've now eaten breakfast and lunch at my desk (some things never change).

The thing that is irritating me about going from working in the office to freelancing (albeit a minor thing) is that I don't have access to resources that I had before. Like, once the photographers put photos in the system at the office, I could go back and check them before the story printed to make sure some detail I mentioned, like maybe a paint color, was accurate. Now I have to wait until it comes out in print to see the pictures and...well, leave out all those tiny details I'm not 100 percent sure about. Or call the homeowner.

But...it's still my favorite story to write. It's so much fun for me to try to make you see what I saw. I can never do it justice, but it's fun to try. I wish I had a background in home design or something, so that I'd have the vocabulary to do it right!

I also have a Your Life section front to work on. Those are fun, too. This one comes with a list of clubs. I've started on it, but I really need to make headway today. I mean...it's Wednesday. When I was working, Wednesday was the day by which I felt I needed to have something done on every story I had on my plate, just so that I didn't have to feel too much deadline pressure on Thursday or Friday. Even if all I had done was made a quick phone call. It didn't always work, but it was always a mental goal that contributed to my sanity.

Making a few of those calls today will make for a much happier Lisa on Thursday and Friday.

So what made me feel the need to blog right instead of picking up the phone? Beats me. :) Maybe I needed a mental break. (Facebook is good for that too!) I checked, though, and I haven't blogged in a week. I don't want y'all to think I don't love you anymore! I've just....got a lot of good stuff going on. And then there's writing and job hunting and all the day-to-day stuff to do.

But now I've accomplished stuff. And I've blogged. Time to hit the shower! :) (You're welcome!)

What's going on

I guess y'all are due for an update as to what's been going on around here!

No, I don't have a job yet. But my old one is keeping me pretty busy with freelance stories. It's nice. I can still do what I love, make a couple of dollars, and I still have time for other stuff (like job hunting). I almost wish I had enough stories each week to equal a paycheck, but at least it's something.

My food stamps came in. I ain't too proud to jump up and down about it! I figure it this way, unemployment will pay for the roof over our heads, and food stamps will keep us fat and happy. You think I'm kidding! Let me tell you, I get two-and-a-half times as much money now to spend on food as I was spending before I got laid off. I'm used to buying just what we need to cook meals, and maybe splurging on a bag of chips or popcorn. I went to the store the other day and was super excited to be able to buy a pot roast. There are other yummy meals now waiting to be prepared.

My kids only had one demand: buy snacks! Y'all...I stood there in that grocery aisle just staring at all that food like I've never seen any before. It was like sensory overload! I can buy anything I want...except it is possible to spend too much. (It might have taken another grocery cart, but it could be done!) I kept thinking do I get cookies or chips? Do I make cookies or buy packaged? Pudding cups or pudding mix? What kind of snacks do they want?? Too many decisions!

I think the kids are happy, though. They won't eat their snacks up in a day. It might actually take three. And they don't even know yet what I've stuck in the deep freeze! ;)

On a completely different note, I'm seeing a guy who's kind of incredible. I've been hesitant to talk about him much because I don't want to jinx it. But yeah...he's pretty awesome.

Okay, I'll gush a little bit. I figure it's fair, since one of his coworkers just today said he'd heard I was a good cook. :)  He's as sweet as he can be. Every morning I get a text with the title of my song for the day...some song that he says reminds him of me. I have playlist of them going on YouTube, and sometimes I listen to them when I'm working on stuff. We're up to like 23.

There are two main things that make him awesome: 1) I sense that under it all I have a friend in him and 2) there are all the ways he doesn't make me feel -- anxious, insecure, distrustful, dissecting or beneath him in any way. I don't wonder what I should do next or what he's up to when he's not with me. This is new to me, but I like it!

It's early yet, but I think he just might mean it when he says he wants to be around a while.

I met him online about a month ago, but within an hour we wondered how we haven't met before. Hope is one of his good friends from middle school. She almost set us up last year...but I was going through a breakup. On a seperate occasion, she told me to call him as a source for a story I was working on. I didn't. And she invited him countless times to come to Margaritaz with us, but he didn't. (Yes, he sings. He's a bigger karaoke nut than me. :) )

But there's more. Christopher and his oldest son were in the same class at Walker. Catie's friend Danielle is his uncle's granddaughter, and they live in our neighborhood. He grew up maybe two miles from where I grew up, so if I hadn't moved in with Daddy when I was 14, we'd have graduated from Butler together. We even know some of the same people from Winn Dixie, because that was his first job, too. (Different location, though.)

One of his co-workers asked him recently how we met. He just said, "It was fate."

Yeah, kinda. Oh, and you know what else? He's really cute, too! ;)

Another dream

I wrote this this morning, and debated about posting it. After reading it again, I figured why not. I told my sister about my dream, and she suggested maybe this is some form of closure for me. Maybe she's right.

I had a very weird dream last night. And now I'm thinking, why in the heck am I dreaming about my ex-husband again?!? Go away already!

Truthfully, y'all, unlike the last dream I had, this was not my ex husband. This guy just looked like him and my dream said it was. This man had character...and remorse.

In this completely improbable scenario he looked well, although unhappy. He was holding down a job in some kind of small factory, where he had been secretly working for a number of years before we split up. We were talking and it was completely unemotional...just two people who used to know each other. I wasn't afraid. Nor was I angry.

I must have hung around for quite a while, because we moved from his workplace to his apartment. It turns out he'd been living a secret life for many years. He had had this nice apartment for a year and a half before we split and for the years since. So this is what happened to the money that we should have had but didn't, I asked, and he nodded. The run down places we'd lived in ran through my mind in succession. The rotting singlewide with the trash heap behind it. The 100-year-old house with poor heat and no hot water. The rotting doublewide in the middle of nowhere with the siding peeling off, but the gorgeous view of Horse Creek Valley. We could have done better.

He'd had "plans," he told me. Said he'd been planning all that time to leave me, but I left before he could. I asked if it was for another woman. It was. He currently had two girlfriends, both alcoholic, neither good women, and he talked as though he regretted the choices he made. As though he regretted what he gave up. But it didn't matter anymore.

I looked through his bookcases filled with my old Danille Steel novels and found my old yearbooks. I was so happy to see them again! I asked if I could have them back, and he said I could. I started asking for the family heirlooms he kept, like the bedspread my grandmother made for my parents' wedding, and the Georgia flag that had hung over my dad's bunker in Vietnam. He began looking for them, and promised to look in earnest after I left. For once, I believed he would.

It was all just so weird. But at least for the duration of the dream, everything about our life together made sense. There was a logic behind it all. The reality is...there wasn't. The beauty is...it doesn't matter anymore. Where ever he is, whatever he's doing, he has to live with the choices he's made. But the kids and I are happy now...and that is all that matters.

I'm gonna write!

I am a happy girl! I get to write again!

I have been working at finding a job. Some jobs I'm applying for make me want to cry, just because well...it's not writing, and I am a writer. I have to pay the bills, though, so I'm willing to look other places.

If I've discovered anything through all of this, it's that I really do want to write. It's not even just something I want to do. It's who I am. It's what makes me happy. (Is this a surprise to anyone? LOL) I think my unhappiness at my former job rose in direct proportion to the amount of non-writing related responsibilites I was given.

So guess what? They're going to let me write again! Not as an employee, but as a freelancer. And I'm really excited about it. There was a point shortly after the layoff that the idea of writing made me break out in hives. Now I feel "important" again. LOL

I can't tell you how great it feels to sit down and plan out a story again, the kinds of stories I want to write. It's like....maybe it feels like a fish who's been out of water a little too long and just jumped back in. Maybe. I don't really know how a fish out of water feels. But I do know this feels pretty darned good.

And ya'll...I'm back in the Today's Home rotation!! And I get to do Your Life fronts! It has been too long since I've gotten to do a Your Life front. I just didn't have time. I'm going to check into other freelance opportunities around town, too. In a tough job market, it just may make more sense to get paid by the job. Provided I can find enough jobs.

So on that note, know anybody who needs a writer? No, seriously...and I don't just mean newspapers or magazines. I'll happily write anything from a business letter to resumes to ... well, what do you need written?   :)

The dating thing

I don't know if you're aware of it or not, but there are two teenagers and one single woman living in our house.

Do you know what this means? It means we have new and rather interesting dynamic.

See, at this very moment, my son is taking a walk around the neighborhood with his girlfriend. My daughter is on the phone with her possibly-soon-to-be-boyfriend. And I'm heating up leftovers for dinner because I have a date tonight.

Should I try to describe how weird this all feels?

Let me see if I can put it into words for you. It's like we used to be this tiny little unit...me and my kids. My focus has been on them, and I was their world. We are a very close family. We've been coccooned, perhaps. Now, there's all these other people involved. I mean...not really yet, not in a serious sort of way. But I mean, there are still all these other people involved.

And now we're coordinating when Christopher can see his girlfriend around when I have a date, around when school stuff is happening, around church, around...you get the picture. (The extent of Catie's dating experience is the telephone and Facebook. We have pretty strict rules on this at her age.)

I'm clearly not new to this dating thing. Catie isn't either, really. She's had a few little "boyfriends". Maybe it's the addition of Christopher's girlfriend that makes it suddenly feel so odd. I'm not the center of his life anymore. He's branching out and expanding his world. It's great! All I'm saying is....it feels weird.

Unemployment Chronicles, Pt. 3

The longer this unemployment thing wears on, the more I remember why I didn't enjoy being a stay-at-home mom.

Not that I don't enjoy having time to spend with my kids, and Heaven knows I adore having more time to spend with family and friends. But y'all....not knowing what came on at 10 p.m. Monday nights or who really sucked on American Idol this week was a point of pride with me. Now I'm thanking the gods of OnDemand, for they let me sample all the shows Facebook has been talking about. And it never fails, somewhere around Tuesday afternoon I smack myself in the forehead and think I missed Rizzoli and Isles last week!! So thank you, Xfinity, for allowing me to play catch up...two weeks later over breakfast.

I'm seeing the end of my severance, too, and it's starting to make me uncomfortable. There's still unemployment...they won't let me draw it just yet, but it's comforting to know it's in my future. And food stamps came through. We might not be able to do much else, but we will be eating good! (Side note: I'm thinking seriously about...just for fun and because I'll have the time and money to do it, picking several new recipes out of my stacks of cookbooks...all the things I've wanted to try but didn't have the time or money to do it. Don't be surprised if I invite you to dinner!)

Really, though, the worst part of all of this is feeling unproductive. I haven't been...at least that's what my mom and my career counselor tell me. I have uploaded my resume to several job banks. I have searched for jobs to apply for. I have resurrected and polished my LinkedIn profile. I have taken personality and career assessment tests. I try to do at least a little something every day. But mostly, I still feel like I'm just sitting around on my duff.

Last week, I found my dream job as an associate editor for a home magazine in Atlanta. It was the first job I've seen that I actually wanted to apply for. (I only considered the fact that I'd have to relocate for about a half a minute. I don't want to uproot the kids, but if the job's right, I'll do it in a heartbeat.) I was so excited!! I spent three days tailoring my resume, drafting a cover letter, creating a blog as a portfolio of my home stories, and meeting with my career counselor to perfect all of them....only to find the job had closed when I went to apply for it.

The upside is that I have now done all of that, my resume is suitably polished and I have figured out how to showcase my work. And I realized that, deep down and no matter what I say in the heat of the moment, I really do want to write for a living. Now to find another dream job to apply for. If you hear of any openings in which I can write about homes, please let me know!!

More of what's up...

Oops! It's been a week since I posted last. Sorry, y'all. I'll try to do better!

It's been a busy one, so I'll just hit the high points.

• The kids and I talked to Ronnie, my ex-husband's oldest son, and his wife, Dani, the other day. It's been quite a while since we've talked to him. We all just get busy, you know? They just had a baby girl, Iris. She's about a month old now, and Devon is 4. Gosh, the last time we saw them was in 2007, and she had just found out she was pregnant with him. We were the first to know (well...after them, of course!)
  It was great to talk to them, but what cracked me up was when Ronnie put Devon on the phone and said, "Here, talk to Mamaw!" Devon said, "That's not Mamaw!" Ronnie said, "Yes it is. It's Mamaw Lisa!" Y'all....that one caught me off guard!  Mamaw Lisa. I'm still trying it out, but I kinda like it!

• Catie went to church with a friend the other day. A community church. I won't name it, but she came home afterward talking about witnessing an exorcism. I was completely out of my league with this. I've read about it, and what she described is consistent with what I've read. She was kind of freaked out. I was kind of freaked out. I really didn't know what to say...still don't. But I thought I'd share that anyway.

• Don't say anything to embarrass him, please. I'm sharing this for me...not to call attention to him, okay? But Christopher has found a girl to "talk to." My gut instinct was to go "No....you're too young!" or to tell myself, "well....yeah, but all it's going to be is phone calls and Facebook chats. It's not like they're going to date." Except, well...yeah, they could be. He is old enough. I'm not ready for this!!!

• On a related note, Catie and I were talking about dating and boyfriends. Christopher and I have teased her about her "boyfriend of the week" until she's now reluctant to tell me about it anymore. I promised I wouldn't tease her anymore, and I told her that at her age, I much prefer she have a different boyfriend every week. Then I asked her what having a boyfriend meant to her. She said talking on the phone, that I said he could come over as long as I'm home and they stay in the yard, that they hang out and talk at school and they give each other hugs. I asked her if she promised she would tell me if it was more than that. She said "What more would there be?" Thank you, God! I mumbled something about not knowing, but I just wanted her to feel like she could tell me anything. Whew. I don't know what I'm going to do when she turns 16!

• As for the job thing, I have one possible freelance opportunity, and I really need to get on the ball checking on others. I'm working with the career center and the counseling center at ASU to try to figure out what other occupations can use the skills I have. Frankly, newspapers are so unstable right now that, as much as I love it, I don't want to be in that business anymore. I've got my resume submitted to several job banks and I'm searching for other types of jobs I may want to apply for, but it's hard to know where to look. I'm starting to think it would be easier to find a sugar daddy! (I don't know where to look for one of those, either!) (And I'm completely kidding!)

• Have I mentioned my sister is coming home today? Holy cow...my social schedule has filled up for the next week, because we are going to be doing all the things they have missed in their three years in Germany. There's gonna be steak dinners, swimming, baseball games. I'm not sure where we're fitting in karaoke yet, but it's soon, I'm sure. I can't wait...and y'all have to come hear her sing. She is da bomb!!!

A Single Point of View: This is what's up

A Single Point of View: This is what's up: Where did today go? Oh, that's right. I slept most of it! I slept so good last night, cool, snuggled under the covers in my own bed. And d...

This is what's up

Where did today go? Oh, that's right. I slept most of it!

I slept so good last night, cool, snuggled under the covers in my own bed. And darned if I didn't forget to hook up the box fan. So I was dead to the world from 11-ish until 5:30 a.m., when Christopher's alarm went off. <grumble> That will be fixed tonight.

I'm not sure if it was lack of caffeine, stress, or just catching up on sleep, but I woke up with the most horrible headache. Not one of my infamous migraines, but painful nonetheless. So when do business people decide to call me? Yup...8:30 a.m. And I purposefully had not had my first cup of coffee yet, because a nap was totally in order...and I slept until almost noon. Ahhhh!

I spent the afternoon tallying up my stories for my resume. It took a couple of hours, but that was kind of fun. It was like, "Ooh...I remember this one. That was a fun one!" "Wow...I really wrote that many in a year?"

I think I'm slightly relaxing my stance on non-writing jobs. It makes me sad to think of working a job where I'd never get to write. It might be fun to work on a weekly community paper again, I think. You know what I really wish, though? I wish I had the guts to start up a freelance business doing all different types of writing. When I dream, this is what I dream of. But I worry that a) I wouldn't be able to support my family on it -- there are no guarantees -- and b) the laundry monster would interfere too often. I think maybe it boils down to a lack of faith in myself. But really, I mean...can I afford to fail??

Anywho. Since my home is comfortable enough to move around in again, and I have accomplished a few things job-search-related today, I need to catch up on some housework.

It's funny how the house takes on a different feel when things aren't working right.

For instance, when the air conditioning is working and it's a cool 78 degrees, these atmosphere within these four walls feels very comfortable and homey. I am concerned with making sure things are clean and in some semblance of order, and that things are running efficiently (or as efficiently as possible).

When things are working right, I work to make sure the kids are fed halfway decently and on some kind of routine. That the clothes are washed, folded and put away. That the floors are vacuumed and the bathrooms are clean. My things are my things...they're cherished. Since most of them are passed down, I feel the love of the people who had them before me.

But for the last week, things haven't been working right. Namely, the air conditioning.These four walls didn't feel like home. They were just a place. A hot place. A place I didn't want to be. And my things, instead of feeling like cherished possessions, felt like just a random collection of stuff. I didn't care if they were in the right place or not. I barely saw them.

I hate feeling like I don't want to be at home.

It's funny how a simple thing like air temperature can disrupt your life. I mean, if it's just mildly warm, you can go on with life as normal. It was too warm in my house for a week. We had box fans in both front windows. Christopher chose to sleep on the couch with the fans blowing on him, because it was cooler than in his room. Catie slept on my floor, because my room was cooler than hers. None of us slept well. Which meant I was even less inclined to do anything around the house. I started worrying about how the heat was affecting things inside the house...like the refrigerator. For comfort and some kind of sleep, we spent the last several days hanging out at my mom's where it's cool. But her stuff is not my stuff. I really wanted to clean my house, and take care of things in my home.

Thankfully, today the air was fixed. At least I it seems to be. I'm typing on my computer, listening to my music, sitting in my pajamas and feeling like I can really relax.

I am thankful for air conditioning, and I'm thankful to be home. But I am also deeply thankful that my mom is so close, and that my kids and I could take refuge at her house.

A Single Point of View: Cats and men don't mix?

A Single Point of View: Cats and men don't mix?: I was watching one of those Fancy Feast commercials on TV the other day and I thought -- with a serious degree of sadness, I might add -- "I...

Cats and men don't mix?

I was watching one of those Fancy Feast commercials on TV the other day and I thought -- with a serious degree of sadness, I might add -- "If I get married before the kids go off to college, I can't get a cat!"

Ya'll, my air conditioning has been out since Wednesday. The heat must be frying my brain. I mean, where the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks did THAT come from??

For starters, in order to consider marriage even a remote possibility at any point in the future, don't you need some kind of a prospect? I'm not even dating anyone.

And even if it weren't...even if marriage was distantly visible on my horizon...if I wanted a cat, he'd better say yes ma'am and like it! He could have his dog (I haven't met too many male cat lovers), as long as it doesn't eat my cat.

We don't have a cat now. We don't have any animals. Partly because I don't want to pay my landlord $200 for them to live here. Partly because I figure I have enough to take care of without adding pets to the mix. (Yeah, like the kids would remember to feed it!) And partly because Christopher seems to be allergic to animals...especially cats. His eyes swell up, the back of his throat itches and his asthma flares. This is why I have to wait until he moves out to get one. I guess I better make sure he won't be moving back home first, huh?

My theory has been that if the kids are gone, I'll need a cat to keep me company. I won't know what to do with myself if I don't have anyone to take care of, I guess. (Or...I miss having a cat, and one excuse is as good as the next.) Once the kids are grown I might have the energy and the resources to see after a pet. Plus it would be nice to have a purring furball in my lap to absentmindedly stroke while I'm watching chick-flicks and eating bon bons.

Those are the days I have little confidence I'll meet anyone I'll want to share my life with before the kids go off to college. Or better yet, the days when I'm positive I'll prefer a cat's company to a man's. (Remind me to blog at some point about my proposed founding of the world's first Baptist convent!)

I must say, I'm really intrigued and quite amused by this oddball notion that I can never have both. <<scoff>> Says who??

We eatin' good! :)

Last night I fixed Cheesy Beef Casserole. It's kind of like lasagna with egg noodles, and it's one of our favorite dishes. I almost never make it because a) I rarely had the time to make it; b) I don't usually keep some of the ingredients on hand, things that are crucial to the dish and buying them extra costs extra money...which I wouldn't usually spend, and c) I keep forgetting about it.

I brought home salad the other day from Jan's. She'd cooked dinner and had tons left over, so we had that and garlic bread with dinner last night. Normally, it's just the casserole. We don't get very fancy 'round here.

Not only that, but I tried to make frozen pudding pops! (Lesson learned...it doesn't work in cheap popsicle molds. Stick to Dixie cups.) The kids are feeling pretty special because Mama's actually cooking stuff other than hot dogs and mac and cheese.

Know what's really awesome about it? Guess what I had for lunch? Heck yeah! AND...it's very filling, so I put enough leftovers in the freezer for dinner another night! :D I have teenagers, remember? I've almost forgotten what leftovers look like!

I've planned about a week's worth of all of our favorite dishes that we rarely have because I never had time to cook them. Like, I don't remember the last time we even had meatloaf. But you can bet your sweet bippy we will have it in the next couple of days. And maybe even some fried chicken and gravy! Oh, man. All this time to cook could be a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps I need to start walking in the mornings, too! LOL

If you're interested, here is the Cheesy Beef Casserole recipe:

4 cups uncooked medium egg noodles
1 lb ground beef
1/4 cup chopped onion
2 cans (8 oz each) tomato sauce (or 1 regular can)
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1 pkg (8 oz) cream cheese, softened
1 cup (8 oz) small curd cottage cheese
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup sliced onions (I usually omit them)
1/4 cup chopped green pepper

Cook noodles according to package directions. Meanwhile, cook beef and onion over medium heat until meat is no longer pink; drain. Add tomato sauce, garlic powder, salt and pepper.
In a bowl, combine cream cheese, cottage cheese Parmesan cheese, green onions and green pepper. Drain noodles.
Layer half of the noodles in a 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking dish. Top with half the meat and cheese mixtures. Repeat layers. Sprinkle with additional Parmesan, if desired. Cover and bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes or until heated through.

This freezes really well, so you could make two at one time and freeze one for later. :)

Just reflecting. Man, I am blessed!

The kids are back in school. Some of my friends have settled their kids into college dorms. The scorching August temperatures have abated into the low 90s. According to the academic calendar, fall is here.

It's one time of the year my ex is closer to the surface. This year not so much as in years past, but still he's on my mind now.

It hit me the other day that it's coming up on five years since we split up. (For those of you who don't know, we haven't seen him in 4 1/2 years. He comes close to the surface of my memory in May, too...for that reason.)

Five whole years. That's hard to believe. Within those five years I have graduated college, established a career and took fabulous trips I would not have been able to take while I was married. Through the grace of God, the kids enjoy a stability they never knew before, and I had forgotten. I have re-established friendships and created new ones. I grew closer to my kids and my family. I have a house that I am not embarrassed by, and a car I don't have to apologize for. I found a church I love and am growing in. I like myself...for the first time ever.

I really don't have anything insightful to share today. There is no need for me to recount for you the details of "the day", though every detail is burned into my memory. Nor am I trying to pat myself on the back for what I've accomplished, because I really didn't accomplish much. God has blessed us. I've only tried to do what I thought was right...one of the great freedoms of my "new" life.

I guess I'm just in a reflective mood this morning, and I needed to, in some way, put it writing.

Look how God has prospered us in five years. So, dear friends, if you see me struggling to keep my chin up now, please remind me he has brought us out of...and prospered us after...much tougher times than these.

Useful again!

Today was my first day of volunteer work at Golden Harvest Food Bank. Have I mentioned I'm excited to be doing something useful? I hope to find a way to continue volunteering there once I find a job.

I spent the afternoon sorting cans of soft drinks - tossing those that were too far out of date and replacing the ones that are still usable.

My hands got filthy. I wanted to take a picture of them after I finished working, but I got thirsty and the sweat from my water bottle washed them off. Trust me. They were nasty. This could be a reminder to us all to wash our soda cans before we drink from them. Who knows where those things have been. But I digress.

For three and a half hours, this is all I did. And do you know what? It was awesome. There were maybe 10 people working in the area (that I could see, anyway). Someone had a radio playing on the other side of the room. The lady I worked with had gospel music playing from her phone. She started on one side of the shelf, on the opposite end, doing the same work. Sometimes she sang along with the music - and beautifully, I might add.

"Lisa! You still on your first box?"

I'm on my second, I told her.

"I'm on my fifth! Keep up!" she teased.

"Give her a break. She just started," the manager chimed in. We all laughed.

I loved the jovial mood. It was so nice to be doing something useful, and to be working with my hands. It's hard to forget the reason I am there, and who the food is going to bless.

The area I worked in resembled a warehouse-style grocery store. People from non-profit organizations come here to get food to distribute to the needy.  

Sometimes, I couldn't read the expiration date. Maybe it didn't look old, and I'd briefly consider putting it back in the box. But then I heard my co-worker's voice again say, "When in doubt, throw it out. I don't want to make anybody sick." Out it went.

It hurt to throw away a whole case of apple cider. It looked fine to me, but I couldn't find the expiration date. But the people who need this stuff deserve to get good stuff. Out it went.

Stress relief, apparently, comes from throwing the cartfuls of old drinks into the dumpster. I had to empty my cart several times. Chucking bottles hard enough to break and splatter definitely relieves some stress.

"Pretend it's somebody you're mad at!" I was told. :)

And just like that, it was over. I can't wait to see what I'll be doing next week!

I love being a woman!

I'm sweating like...well, I don't have to tell you. But it's sure not ladylike.

Weatherbug says it's 88 degrees outside. When I stepped out to go for a walk about 45 minutes ago, it felt great. By the end of my walk...not so much. Is it October yet?

Cathy says she can't walk this week, just because she's got to get up at 5 a.m. for work. Wimp! ;) Catie happily stepped in. But she walks too fast! And in jeans!

For some reason, she has decided that she only likes wearing jeans, even during a sweltering Georgia summer. Something about not wanting to show off her legs. Are we sure she's my child?? I know I carried her and all, but...

Me? I'm out walking in a skirt. I have decided that skirts are God's gifts to us women. See, men can only wear shorts so short before they start talking soprano and we start to wonder about them. Skirts allow a lot of air and minimal fabric to trap heat. I love them!

Plus I have no qualms about showing off my legs. Even if I had cankles, I've decided I'm too old to let comfort fall by the wayside in order to look...hot?? (Jeans sure don't look cool during a southern August!)

I figure skirts are the nearest thing to wearing nothing at all and still look decent. Nice, even. I told my daughter I refuse to put on pants until I absolutely have to. We live in Georgia and God gave us skirts, for crying out loud!

The Unemployment Chronicles, Pt. 2

I know...I know. You would think since I have all of this time on my hands, I could write more blog posts.

The kids are in school now. Perhaps that will help. And I don't feel as much in turmoil this week. Last week I found myself sobbing into my pillow at oddball times, laying around feeling lethargic, not wanting to be home, not wanting to go out.  I'm telling you it feels like the end of a relationship! It's a good thing I'm not a bon bon eater. I'd weigh 400 pounds by now. Although I am craving ice cream.

But now my eyes are dry, I finally got some sleep (okay...in between finally falling asleep about midnight and hearing Christopher's alarm at 5:30 a.m. One perk to not having a job: going back to bed after the kids leave!), and I feel much better.

Over breakfast and coffee I filled out unemployment forms. I've been holding off. When I worked at Winn Dixie all those years ago, people occasionally came in and asked for applications. When told we weren't hiring, they replied that they didn't care, they just needed to put in applications and then asked the manager to sign their paperwork. I really, really don't want to have to ask anybody to sign off on a form stating that I've applied for a job. But after reading carefully over the website, it looks like all I have to do is keep a record of where I've applied or sent my resume. I was going to do that anyway, for my own records. So why not let that bring me a paycheck?

I also dusted off my resume. It's almost ready to go. I expect to spend part of this week just poking around the internet and seeing what I come up with. If I see something interesting, I'll be ready to apply. I plan to meet with a career counselor very soon to hopefully help me find some direction and focus my job search. I plan to set that up by the week's end.

But for now it's almost time for Christopher to come home. I'm anxious to hear how the first day of 11th grade went. And Catie's all excited that she gets to use a locker this year. But she won't be home for quite a while.

Today, I accomplished what I wanted to. And now that I've found an ounce or two of energy, I will be spending the rest of the day going about the business of being a mom!

Those golden summer days

How is it I have two children who do not enjoy the lake?

We went to Lake Springs yesterday. It was Tuesday. No one was there. This made me happy. The kids...not so much.

About an hour into it they started in with "I want to go home." I was like, "Really? You've been home all summer!"

They wanted the computer. Television. Phone.

"I loved going to the lake when I was your age. And it was usually just me, Aunt Rhonda, Papaw and Grandma Jo!" I told them.

"We're bored," they said. Perhaps this is a failure of mine as a parent.

We had the best times at the lake when I was a kid, let me tell you. It was our second home. You could go anywhere if you could find a spot, and Daddy was good at finding them. I can picture those places in my head, but I couldn't tell you where they are now for the life of me. Now you can't go anywhere if it isn't in a park, where you have to pay for a day use pass.

Daddy had an S-10 pickup with a camper shell on the back. He cut a piece of foam rubber to fit the bed of the truck, and that was our camper. The two adults and one of us children could sleep back there. The other child slept on the front seat. We were small enough that it worked.

The lake was so pretty in the mornings. We woke up earlier than we ever could in town. The air was cool, the water was still, the birds would sing. And we'd have to go find a tree somewhere. Because you know, park fees pay for facilities, and the freedom to move around the lake freely came without toilets. Name the one thing I hate about camping!

Daddy would rekindle the campfire from the night before, and brew coffee using an old tin percolator coffeepot and water from the lake. All of the silt sunk to the bottom of the lake overnight, leaving clean water on the top, he explained. We never really were convinced. Luckily I still believed coffee would stunt my growth.

Hours upon hours were spent floating on the lake, drinking Cokes and eating Pecan Sandies. JoEtta would try to get more freckles, she said. Rhonda and I splashed, swam and shrieked when fish bit our legs. Daddy's back was our diving board. We did fantastic somersaults using his hands as a springboard. Sometimes he just threw us, and that worked really well, too.

If we weren't swimming, we were fishing. I learned to bait my own hook. I learned that fishes respond to "Here, fishy, fishy, fishy!" and will promptly swallow my hook. To this day though, I need a strapping savior to take that fish off my hook. I've been finned enough! 

If we weren't swimming or fishing, we were walking through the woods. We had the best times hiking little known trails, although we probably complained that we'd rather be swimming. We'd see neat rock formations, foundations from old houses, all kinds of things. There were some scary moments, too. Snakes also like to hike little known trails. And then they raise their little heads and pretend to be sticks that your sister and dad breeze right past. Or run across little girls' paths trying to get to the water, causing little girls to scream and dance and yell "Daddy! Snake! Heeellllp!"

I always had a book, too, so if we weren't doing any of that, I was on the beach happily lost in a fantasy world.

*Sigh.* I asked Catie what on earth she thought she would do all day if I took her camping. Did she say "Please don't take me camping?" Is that what she said? I think it sounded something like that.

Perhaps it's time I teach my children to enjoy being alone and quiet for a minute.

Earworms

One line from a Tanya Tucker song has been running through my head since yesterday morning.

Without you, what do I do with me?

Okay, two. The other is "What do I do with all of our plans, and how do I spend all this time on my hands?"

I'd forgotten I really like that song. Until I just YouTubed it, I hadn't heard it in years.

It's not because I miss the job or wish things were different. It's just that the days suddenly seem interminable. I can only read so much and watch so much TV. And it's only Tuesday! (Incidentally, I have discovered I love Rizzoli & Isles. Thank you, Comcast, for having multiple episodes on OnDemand.)

Luckily, I do have plans for tomorrow and Thursday. And Friday evening, for that matter. Plans are good. I like plans.

Anywho. I was making my bed and those lyrics ran through my head one more time. I needed to share them. Carry on!

No...it's half FULL

The sun is shining and it's a gorgous day. I spent the morning at church. I barely heard the sermon, but not for the reasons you might think.

I just can't find the discouragement I'm supposed to feel right now.

Okay, truthfully, I have my moments. It usually follows the thought "What am I going to do when the severance runs out?" The answer: "Well, you'll get unemployment. It'll be fine. That's weeks away."

Then comes the thought: "What if I go six months and I can't find a job?" The answer: "I'll deal with that bridge when and if I cross it. I haven't even started yet. That day may never even come. Focus on today."

And then I'm out of discouraging thoughts. All morning during the sermon I kept thinking...what a gift I've been given! There are so many things I've wanted to do if only I'd had the time. I want to volunteer for a food bank. I want to feed the hungry. So guess what? This week I will apply to volunteer. Because, I mean, why not? (I can add it to my resume. It certainly won't hurt.) If nothing else, it will give me a reason to step away from the computer, put on shoes and focus on something other than a job search. It will also remind me just how blessed I am.

Cathy reminded me about the book I've always wanted to write. Do you have any idea how quickly it could be written if I just devote maybe two hours a day to it? I mean, why not?

I've wanted to try my hand at freelancing, and I have a Writer's Market to pore through. It's full of magazines that use freelancers. It tells me who to contact, what they're looking for and how much they pay per article. Maybe I'll see my byline in Better Homes and Gardens. Or Georgia magazine. Why not? Again, it is something to try while I have the time. It will be something positive to focus on. And it will keep my skills sharp.

I think the shock is gone. I just can't help but feel like the world is my oyster, and I am free to go in whatever direction I choose to. What I have to figure out now is...where do I WANT to go from here?

For the moment, I want to go spend the afternoon with some dear girlfriends. Ya'll have a good day! :)