Saturday, September 29, 2012

A Pirate Affair

My baby turned nine years old this week. Poor baby. I mean, poor Mama. How, I ask myself, how did he get to be this old already? I would say, "Time for another one...", but I won't. 

Today Ryan had a few friends over to celebrate. I feel kinda bad admitting this, but we have never had a birthday party for him before. Sure we've had family over, but never a birthday party with invitations, games, and treats. This year I decided that this was the year. Regardless of how busy life is with school, volleyball and work, we would do a party. 

Theme: Pirates!
Where: At our house
When: 3pm-6pm Saturday September 29th
I even dressed for the occasion. 
Cause I like dressing up, that's why. 
We pulled the old pirate ship out of the shed and cleaned the cobwebs out of it.
Treasure was gathered together and hid for a treasure hunt.
The girls and Ryan blew up a bazillion balloons.
I scoured Pinterest for cake ideas and got a cake-deficit disorder. 
But we had fun. 
Here we go:

A treasure hunt commenced once they found the first clue. Adrienne came up with a series of clues (and they all rhymed!) in a matter of 15 minutes and they were incredible! The hardest part was when I realized that the boys would run from clue to clue and I had to keep up to take pictures. So there I am, running all over the yard and all the buildings like a crazed pirate lady. I thought once during the activity that I accidentally cut off one of the boys while trying to run with them and all I hear is, " Excuuuuuse me lady!" The girls informed me however, that I was running too slow and he was trying to get around me. And here I thought I was impressing these young lads with my impressive athletic ability. 
 The Clues, ready to be hidden...

The first clue was held captive aboard the ship.
Here is where your journey begins-You must find all the clues and treasure you will win.

"Old MacDonald had a farm...a long long time ago.
Cows that gave him milk to drink was kept cool in an old red shed. 

Ahh...the shed. 

"Dump junk out, put junk in, another clue you will win"
And they were off...to the dumpster...

"Black and round, I'm kind of little,
I hold kids right through my middle."
And thus they ran, with Pirate Mama right behind, to the tire swing. 

"Dirt and water, add a little sunshine-
yummy and delicious on a vine."
Soon they were on their way to the grape arbor where the clue was up on top. 
You know, so the alligators can't reach it. 

Two more clues led them back up to the machine shed, running all the way, and then to the volleyball net. The next clue read like this: 
"My Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea, my Bonnie is stuck in some green algae. 
After some discussion on where algae would grow, the boys ran to the pond
"Excuuuuuse me lady!"

"Row row row your boat all across the water...."
The last clue led them to pull the boat, drifting aimlessly around the pond, to the dock. There in the boat was a box with the treasure. And no one fell in the pond...that was my treasure. 


The boys divided up the spoils evenly among themselves. I think they are all very unselfish pirates and I was proud of them. I think it's because they all know who the Captain of the Ship is. 


No Pirate Party is complete without walking the plank. 
Here is their version: 

 

 We finished the pirate affair with eating "squid" over mac 'n cheese, pickles, fruit in jello (to keep scurvy at bay), and of course, cake. I forgot the ice-cream though. I don't think they needed any more sugar, so maybe that wasn't a bad thing.








And thus the birthday boy celebrated, and I had a blast, a cannonball blast!

          And this is me, Mama Pirate...
Love,
Dianne...arrrrrrgg
 





Thursday, September 27, 2012

Gray Day Thoughts

Driving to work the last two evenings, the sky looked like a watercolor painting; a kaleidoscope of grays and whites in layers, swirls and strokes straight from the hand of God. A promise of rain was felt in the breezes that breathed around me. I couldn't help but think about sleeping the next couple of days after work with raindrops tapping on the windows in a soothing melody. Sleeping is always so much the nicer during the day when it is a gray day outside.

Five hours later, I awaken. Probably not enough sleep, but it'll do. I need to get up, walk up the lane to meet Ryan as he gets off the bus, and then have about an hour to straighten up, sort mail, and get my head in the game for one more night shift.

I enjoy the short walk up and down the lane. The sprinkles of rain dotted my sweatshirt with a random pattern, but the air was warm. As I am writing this, I hear the rain pick up in intensity as it hammers the roof and I am glad that I only had to contend with sprinkles on my walk. A gray day indeed.

I need to find some music to fit the mood, something that takes my mind on a mini vacation as I drive to work. Something that brings peace to my soul, energy to stay awake all night, and inspiration to my thoughts. Hmmm...Enya perhaps? Maybe the soundtrack to Pirates Of The Caribbean? I need to think about Ryan's birthday party (pirate themed) on Saturday. Needed: inspiration and motivation. Arrrrgh.

The clock is ticking in rhythm with the rain. One hour and thirty-five minutes until departure. I feel a little like Captain Hook with the watch-swallowing crocodile chasing him. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Keep moving. Tick-tock. Brew. The. Coffee. Tick-tock. . .

I kinda hope tomorrow is another gray day. Rain motivates me and turns my thoughts creative. I feel like an inventor, an artist, a woman on a mission. I don't make quilts with their millions of tiny stitches, but gray days make me think I can make a quilt.  It's funny, but gray days do one of two things:
     1.) Make sleeping lovely.
     2.) Make me ambitious.
Rather opposite, don't you think?

Tick-tock. One hour and twenty-three minutes until departure.
I have some paperwork to fill out and pizza orders to drop off.
The coffee is still not started brewing.
I need to pack a supper/midnight snack.
Where's that CD?
Tick-tock.
Drip-drop.
September Showers
Stop the clock
Time to hop
Gray day
Here I lay
Tick-tock
Drip-drop

Love,
Dianne





Monday, September 24, 2012

Letting Black Cats Walk in Front

I sat with my laptop last evening and thought about writing. That's all the further I got. I kept dozing off and finally just gave up. Night shift fever. What was I thinking about writing though? Superstition.

su·per·sti·tion  (spr-stshn)
n.
1. An irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome.
2.
a. A belief, practice, or rite irrationally maintained by ignorance of the laws of nature or by faith in magic or chance.
b. A fearful or abject state of mind resulting from such ignorance or irrationality.
c. Idolatry.

http://www.thefreedictionary.com/superstition



Before I was a nurse, I don't think I can really say that I had superstitions. I thought if you held any of that kind of thought in your head, you were doomed. I guess that is like being superstitious about superstitions. Now that's a thought.

Then, as a nurse working on OB, Labor and Delivery, I soon learned that sometimes a labor room door would be left open so that no one would come in during the night to use the room. Make sense? Not really. A belief in something of chance is certainly risky and is taking a chance.

Then as a nurse just off orientation in the NICU, I asked my coworker about how often we have a code (a full resuscitation of an infant) in our unit. She said it was rare and we talked about it for just a little while. Then, within an hour or so of our conversation, we had a baby that needed coded. Random? Maybe? Coincidental? Probably. Weird? Definitely.

Then on another night, I casually mentioned chest tubes. We got a baby that needed a chest tube.
The other nurses told me to quit asking questions.

This past Saturday night, I was at work with the same coworker that I asked the code question of. We were talking about flight transports. I mentioned my extreme dislike of them and then we decided that we should change the subject. Superstitious? Maybe just a little.

Then about two hours later, the phone rings. Guess who ended up going in the helicopter that night? Yes, it happened again. We joked around that I can only talk about nice things, like babies getting better, vacations, etc.

I used to not be superstitious. I am trying not to be now, but sometimes things happen and it is just freaky. Am I going to be controlled by that? No, I am going to choose to believe in something bigger than chance and circumstance. I believe in God and I believe that He knows my days, the events that will occur and what I am able to deal with long before I do. He knows what I need to learn, what fears I need to overcome and what brings me joy.

I choose to let God be God and I will follow. It's just better that way.
We have a black cat and I have been known to let it cross my path, numerous times a day.
We have a ladder and yes, I have walked under it.
I choose not to let superstitions take control of how I live.
And that's that.

Love,
Dianne

PS. How did I survive the fight? Very well thank you. It wasn't too bad and I know that night, before I ever left for work, that there were two other night shift nurses in other parts of PA and MD that were praying for my night. What better night to fly that that one? Thanks Gloria and Sandi!

Saturday, September 22, 2012

I, Di, Private Eye

 Honesty may be the best policy, but it is not always the easiest one. Take one missing box of Saltwater Taffy, for instance.

Exhibit A:

This summer, a beautiful raven haired maiden purchased a box of her favorite salt water taffy whilst on holiday in Ocean City. She looked forward to bringing it home with her, sharing a piece or two with friends and maybe later, after the candy was gone, would use the box to secret away the love letters from her handsome beloved. 

Then the box mysteriously disappeared. Not just for a day. Or even a week. The box was missing for months. The lovely lass was forlorn and her beloved tried to comfort her with moonlit walks and serenades. As he was exceptionally melodious and romantic, the candy was, while not forgotten entirely, was at least pushed to the recesses of her mind. 

Then yesterday, the box appeared as if by magic. One day there was nothing but bottled water there, the next, there was a box of salt water taffy. How? Why? Who? 

No one seemed to know. I, Di Private Eye, began the interrogations, but to no avail, especially since three of the potential suspects weren't even at home. Primary suspect, the Young Lad, said nothing and I figured that if it was him, he would have eaten the candy, which appeared to be present and accounted for. 

Exhibit B

The questioning ceased for the day, but this morning, I asked around again. I think this is the reason I am not a lawyer because just in the simple way I ask puts everyone on the defensive. I don't mean to, it just happens. 

Then the Young Lad looked guilty-ish. I asked him again, and when his eyes filled with tears, I knew he was the culprit. I pulled him close beside me as he gulped back tears. You know the kind of tears I mean, silent but making you shake as you try to breathe. Once he calmed down, I got the story. 

When the box of sweets first appeared at the house, it was left on the kitchen table. He decided to hide it for a trick on the lovely maiden. As the trickery commenced, time passed and the Young Lad forgot where he hid it, until the day before yesterday.

After buying a drawbridge for the wooden train set, he had a reason to go into the basket where the train is kept. There at the bottom, buried in blocks, tracks, and trains was Exhibit A. 

See Exhibit C: The Hiding Place

While it would have been easy to blame the monkey, the Young Lad did not. He admitted his wrongdoing and was sorry. I don't think he intended his trick to go so far. Then, even when he found the candy, instead of being honest about it, he tried to put it somewhere else, hoping no one would question it. 

Honesty. So hard to do sometimes, especially when you think there will be negative consequences. I, as the mother, wanted answers, but did I make being honest any easier with interrogations? Probably not. I think about how God wants me to be honest before Him, open and transparent. I am willing, most of the time and when I am not, it is not because of fear. Rather it is because I don't want to see myself as I really am. God is loving. He loves me regardless of what I've done, what I've been. I need to do the same with my children, my husband, my friends. 

Lesson Learned. 

Love,
Di, Retired Private Eye

Friday, September 21, 2012

Turning Inside Out

A Bad. Hair. Day.
The scales said what!?!
I don't know what to wear!

How we look, what we wear, how we feel about our physical appearance can color our entire attitude, change the outlook of our day.  When it is going good, we feel good. We walk with a strut (yes, even Mennonites can strut a little), our shoulders back and our heads held high. There is nothing we can't do.
You need me to skydive today? No problem! But could I skip the helmet perhaps? You see, it's my hair...and you wouldn't want to ruin my day, right?

But...

When it is not going good, and your entire closet is flung on your bed, you have tried eight different ways to fix your hair and you've gained two pounds overnight, then it all feels wrong. Suddenly, you are short tempered with the ones you love. Your head is down along with the corners of your mouth, and your eyes are dejected and sad. When you walk, it's as if you are carrying a backpack of rocks. You need me to skydive today? I guess so. I mean, my day can't get any worse. And please, can I wear a helmet? You see, it's my hair...maybe if nobody can see it...

I still have frequent dreams where I am trying to get ready for school (back in the mid 1980's) and I just can't get my hair right. I always end up late and usually with no clothes on at all except for a jacket. In these dreams, I always have a pimple. My 1980's hair had to have just the right swoop and pouf in the front (in my dreams and in real life) and it was so frustrating to run out of time to get it just right. Then, on those days that everything fell into place, I would have gym class and all the hairspray in the world couldn't maintain the "look". Of course  I never tried Aqua-net.

The point of all this? So much emphasis is placed on outward appearance by media and the world around us, that it is hard for us, for me, not to. I like to look good, and feel good as much as the next guy or gal, but when I let it affect how I treat others or let it ruin a perfectly good day otherwise, then I am placing way too much focus there. I don't think I have to let my appearance be one of not caring at all, maybe just not to the point that it is all I think about.

Balance...my favorite. When I feel good about what I am wearing, my hair looks acceptable and I know I have been exercising and eating right, then I do have more confidence, more ambition. I can put  some focus there, but that's just it. Some focus, not all my focus. I will have bad hair days. I will have days that nothing fits right. I will have fluctuations in my weight.

So what am I going to do about it when it's not going well?
a.) Go skydiving.
b.) Put on my pajamas and go back to bed.
c.) Wear a hat.
d.) Find something that is okay and put it on, but at the same time, put my focus on something else that matters more.

It could always be worse. I have not had to lose my hair due to medical treatments. I have not lost the ability to exercise and eat healthy. I have enough clothes to outfit a small island village.

I have it good. I need to turn my focus onto being thankful, transforming the inner me into something beautiful that comes through on the outside. Kinda like being turned inside-out.

1 Samuel 16:7

But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."

1 Peter 3:3-4

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight.

Love,
Dianne

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

"As Sands Through the Hourglass..."

This is me on September 19th,  uncut, unphotoshopped, raw and real.

I woke up early enough, for me that is, and thought about joining my kids in their morning ritual of getting ready for school. Then I fell asleep again.

Getting up at 0848, I decided that while most of the time I like fall weather, this morning I was freezing and since I didn't shave my legs all weekend, I felt like a porcupine. Yes, it did say this was "uncut".
I threw on a fuzzy gray sweatshirt and left on the striped flannel pajama bottoms. I figured that if people can wear their pajamas in public, slippers included, then I can indulge in my own home.

I took some time to scroll through Facebook and catch up on a few blogs that I enjoy. Then I felt lazy.
Mornings just really are not an energetic, get-a-lot-done time for me. At all. I haven't even made the pot of coffee yet.

Then I began writing down my thoughts of the moment and right now as I type this, I am thinking this might be an all day affair. See you later as I am off to the kitchen to brew the coffee. Hmmm, should I go with the Hazelnut, the Light Roast, Signature Blend, or Mbeya Reserve from Tanzania? I am waiting for the Jamaicain Me Crazy and the Macadamian Nut flavors ordered from church to come in. So many choices, so few cups of coffee that I really should be limiting myself too...

And the winner was...Light Roast, but only because that was what I already had in the grinder. What I really wanted was something darker, so I ended up adding more than I usually would. Does it work that way or am I just going to get more caffeine without the bolder flavor? I guess time will tell...

Brunch...2 eggs scrambled with red pepper, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, baby spinach, mushrooms and feta cheese, wrapped in a whole wheat tortilla. Coffee with homemade vanilla-caramel creamer. Divine.



I got the blankets off the clothesline; they have only been there since Monday. Rain-washed and sun-dried. I hung more laundry out then to dance in the breeze with the falling leaves. I tried dancing too but the neighbors just thought I was being chased by bees.


Cleaning up my nightstand, covered in books and papers, I found a mini Twix and a Dove chocolate. Sweet. Then inside a book, I found two checks that I thought I had lost or had been taken from my car. Blessed.

Can I just say that when one is walking on a treadmill, one should pay attention and not step on the side, thus causing said person to fall off the treadmill. Just saying.

A phone call or two to Mom is always a pleasant distraction in my day, and no, that was not the cause of the treadmill incident.

Walking back down the lane after meeting Ryan as he got off the bus, we found a newly hatched monarch butterfly. Afraid it would get squashed in traffic, we let it walk on us and it is now drying it's wings in the kitchen. Butterfly rescue was not on my to-do list for today, but I'll take it.


What else did I do today? At least up until 4:31pm that is.
Did the dishes, folded umpteen million towels, swept the floor, thus cleaning up the glass I broke while doing the dishes, ironed some clothes, organized some fabric to take to the attic, and read a little. There is still 6 or so hours left in my day. I look forward to the rest.

You know what the best part of my day was? Not having to go anywhere. I do like being at home, catching up on what needs done from the days/nights of work elsewhere. I am thankful for what God has given me and the many ways in which I am blessed.

And just as sand goes through the hourglass, this is a Day of My Life.

Love,
Dianne

PS. In case you were waiting for a picture of me today...here it is. But I did remove the striped pjs before walking up the lane. No reason to give the neighbors a reason to talk. I must do my part to decrease gossip after all.

Note: after a comment on Facebook, I just need to clarify that after removing the striped pjs, I did indeed replace them with other clothing. I have been seen too many times in a state of undress already!!

PS #2 As for the reference to a popular soap opera, no, I don't watch it. Years ago, yes, but no longer. Real life is good enough for me.

 








Monday, September 17, 2012

To Recline is Sublime

Walking in the front door this morning, I am faced with
      dishes in the sink,
      newspapers scattered across the table,
      shoes in disarray in the corner,
      miscellaneous bike helmets, clothing, hats and recycling,
      blankets strewn across the living room,
      a variety of crumbs on the floor,
      dishes in the living room,
      dirty clothes by the basement steps,
      and no energy.

I sigh. Loudly.
I want to be angry.
I want to sink to the floor and cry.
Why oh why oh why?
Whine.
I sigh. Loudly.

I go upstairs and put on comfortable clothes.
I crawl into bed and check Facebook.
I fall asleep.

Now, it's one o'clock in the afternoon. I am rested, well, kinda rested. The coffee is brewed and I can face the dishes, the clothes, the newspapers, the crumbs. Really, it is amazing what a little sleep can do to put things into a better perspective. So often, I try to do without, thinking I am wasting a day off, when really, I am wasting much more when I am grumpy and complaining all day.

When my kids were small, and not always sleeping well at night, I was missing sleep. Did I do what I tell mothers to do when I am at work? You know, sleep when the baby sleeps? Nope. I got as much done as I could when they slept, and then was still sleep-deprived and grouchy when they were awake.

What about now? When I am tired because of a crazy work schedule, do I ever take time to rest? Actually, I am doing better at this. I used to stay up and sometimes go 24-30 hours without sleep, and now I do lay down for a couple of hours. I decided that I can't let myself feel guilty about this. Well, I try not to feel guilty about it, but truthfully, it's been a long process and I am still not quite there.

When you read any book or article on fitness and wellness, one of the "categories" is always REST. Sleep is vital to a person's wellbeing. Just as important as proper nutrition, exercise, and drinking water.
I need sleep. I need it to be able to cope without melting into a puddle of despair over dirty dishes.

Besides, if I melt, that's just one more mess I need to clean up.

Psalms 3 is from when David was fleeing from his son Absalom and he was dealing with his struggles with his enemies. In verse 5, this is what he says:


I lie down and sleep;
    I wake again, because the Lord sustains me.


Now, I know that I am not fleeing any enemies, but sometimes I do have to deal with my worst enemy...myself. Sleep goes a long with with winning the battle in my mind. After my rest today, I can face what I need to do, maybe even with a cheerful heart and thankful spirit. 

Love,
Dianne

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Cosmos in September and Other Things

I drove home this morning, through the fog and the morning mist, a Pumpkin Spice Latte in hand.
Yes, this morning a stop at Starbucks was in order. I parked my car, and only very briefly thought about how nice it would be to sleep when the memory of the last coffee stop hurtled through my drowsy thoughts.

Did I need CPR? No. I was now wide awake and propelling myself inside to order a Fall time treat. I waited while the coffee machines perked and the cappuccino maker whirred.  As the whipped cream  topped my pumpkin drink and a sprinkle of cinnamon was added as a finishing touch, I debated sitting and reading the New York Times. It just seemed right somehow.

In the end, I skipped the paper and just went back out to the car to continue trekking towards home, listening to the soundtrack for Sherlock Holmes. I sipped and I savored the rest of the way home. Bliss.

Arriving home, I was greeted by this sight.
Late to be planted, late to bloom, but I think I am loving Cosmo's in September.

This sight of the pond, mist swirling over the surface in the chilly morning sunlight, was entirely welcome to this weary woman's eyes. It is one of the reasons I love to come home.


Morning fog pierced by sun
Pumpkin Spice just for fun
Misty pond for all to see
Making me glad just to "be". 

And now I've slept for a while and I've awoken to the sound of Leo, Aaron, and Ryan cooking up something yummy smelling in the kitchen. This is another reason I like coming home after work; hearing my family live life on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe they will bring me "Lunch in Bed". . . or I could just be dreaming.

...three hours later...

Alarm is annoying, snooze is hit and I need to get up. I am already thinking about tomorrow morning and returning home, because whether or not it is a lovely Autumn morning, and even if it is dreadfully dreary, there really is no place like home.

Love,
Dianne


Thursday, September 13, 2012

My Two Favorite Numbers:11 & 23

I picked the girls up from their volleyball game tonight and the emotions in the car were a combination of discouragement, humor, and optimism. Salisbury, the second smallest school in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania, has a long history of not having a winning volleyball team; my girls said they have won 1 game out of the last 105 games. No doubt, that is frustrating.

This is Amy's (#11) fourth year playing and Heather's (#23) second year. I am proud of both of them for the effort they have put into it; not just into the actual playing of the game, but in the sportsmanship and good attitudes they display, even when losing for the 104th time. They have learned to have grace under less than desirable conditions.

Tonight I realized that I always ask them if they've won or not and I started to wonder if that makes them feel the losses even more. Asking them if they've won is just the "normal" thing to ask, but I am going to change that. Instead, I am going to ask if they've played a good game. I am going to ask if they were able to walk away at the end of the game, knowing they played their best while showing respect to their co-players, the other team, and their coaches.

And I believe that one day, when I ask them how the game went, they are going to tell me that they have won. I believe that the girls, not just my girls, but all the girls on the team, are winners. They are learning from their coaches how to play the game. They are learning from each other how to work as a team, how to encourage one another, how to stay positive in spite of losing, and how to keep trying and  striving towards a goal even when the odds are against them.

My hope for the Salisbury Volleyball team is that the character and integrity that exists within them shines on the court, win or lose.

Discouragement? A few tears and sighs...but it's all good now.
Humor? Amy demonstrated how she looked like a klutz during the game and also afterwards when she fell in front of the coach.
Optimism? You bet. There is always the next game after all.

Kinda like life. Interesting.

Love,
Dianne

P.S. I really wanted to post pictures of the girls in their volleyball glory, but I was outvoted 2:1.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

My Life As a Taxi Mom

I have decided that taxi drivers deserve a special place in my heart.

Today, I drove myself through the city of Johnstown, running into not one, but two, detours. One of the roads I was trying to take was a detour for another road I usually take, but not until I about ran over the "Road Closed" signs did I realize that now my detour needed a detour.

A taxi driver would have known that.

I did eventually make it home, after a nap in Somerset. I think a taxi driver should have volunteered to just drive me home.

Then this evening, my respect for the taxi profession was renewed. It started with meeting Ryan at the end of the lane. We walked together to the house, discussing his day and the birthday party he was to attend later. Then:
     -1600 Ryan and I drove to Brenneman's Story to look for a birthday present.
     -1635 We arrived back at the house.
     -1715 Amy called from the school; could I pick her up from volleyball practice.
     -1730 Ryan and I picked up Amy at the school
     -1735 We headed to the birthday boy's house.
     -1745 Ryan is dropped off at afore mentioned birthday boy's house.
     -1755 Arrived at the house. Again.
     -1845 Drove to school to pick up Heather from volleyball practice.
     -1855 Arrived at home. Again.
     -2045 Leaving to pick up Ryan from party.
     -2110 Arrived at the house. Again.

Sometimes I wonder if the neighbors are keeping count of how many times I leave and return.
I would be.

My only real experience with taxi drivers occurred in downtown Manhattan, NYC about 2 years ago. We were there for a funeral and we were staying with a friend in New Jersey. He is an experienced city driver and was wiling to drive us around to see a few of the buildings, Broadway, the Christmas lights, the WTC site, you know, typical touristy things. We were in the middle lane of what seemed like an 8 lane street (or was it 16 lanes?), when our friendly driver wanted to turn left over all these lanes of traffic. Now I know the light was green, but don't you normally yield to the oncoming traffic? Maybe it's because I am a country girl, but I would've waited. Maybe we would have been there all day waiting, I don't know, but it would have been better than what happened next.

As our car was angling left, three, yes, three irate taxi drivers cornered us. Every time we tried to move the car more to the left, they pushed in even closer, hemming us in on the front and both sides of the car. I tried to look nonchalant, like I was a cool city driver, but I probably looked more like I was sinking into the floor boards of the car. Just get us out of here. 

And somehow, our driver did just that, after some gesturing and "polite" facial and hand expressions of course. Now I think those taxi drivers probably thought they had the right-of-way, but our personal taxi driver that day thought he did too. This could have gotten ugly. I mean, uglier that what it appeared to be to me. My point is, the taxi society kept their cool. They must have the patience of Job.

So taxi drivers.
I think it takes someone special to do the job in the real sense.
As for me, I'll stick with the Mom Taxi Service that I run now, with the help of Adrienne, Aaron, and Leo that is. It still requires patience and diplomacy and skill behind the wheel. It is a great time for communication too in those little trips. I like that. As for charging a fare? I get paid in hugs. I like that too.

Love,
Dianne

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

A Creative Fix

This was Saturday and I wanted a project that had nothing to do with work or cleaning. I wanted, no needed, a project. I am a creative, right-brained person and there are times that I just have to be randomly expressive. 

Apparently Amy had that need too as she did some experimental face painting on Heather and Ryan. 


Pretty Cool, huh? 

And then there was my project. Not as colorful perhaps, but these were my favorite colors. 
Reds and browns with hints of green all in a pile of buttons, 
sorted through from two, recently acquired, mason jars and one jar of unknown origin. 

Randomly placed in the shape of M...
...that my children just couldn't figure out. 
Why an "M"?
Ummm, our last name is Maust. 

 After running to the dollar store for a square frame. . .

. . . I had just the spot in my kitchen by the coffee station. 


Thus the "Creative Fix" was had and I was content for another day or so.
Until the next urge strikes that is.

Love,
Dianne

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Savor the Flavor at the Church Bar

This morning I walked into church with Amy and Ryan. Feeling a little insecure without Leo (who had stayed home after just getting home from work at 4:00am), I hoped the sun wasn't shining through my skirt, making it basically transparent, silhouetting my legs for the world to see.

It's funny; the thoughts that go through my mind when I am unsure of myself.

Venturing through the front doors of the church, I am greeted by the tantalizing, robust smell of coffee. Last week it was White Chocolate Macadamia Nut and today...Toasted Southern Pecan. I focused on pouring myself a styrofoam cupful when someone said, "Good morning." I replied back with a quiet, "Good morning."

Then the other Sunday morning barista asked me who I was and that was all it took. It was like an invitation for friendship and I jumped on it. I think my answer became much more than she bargained for. Instead of just "who I was", she also got who I am and even a little of who I hope to be. She learned a little of what I do for a living, what I do for fun, and what makes me, uniquely me.

In return, I learned more about both of these coffee ladies. A foundation for friendship was being built at that moment. Coffee has a way of doing that. Coffee offers an invitation to slow down and savor the flavor while meeting someone new or renewing an relationship. Enjoyed with a friend, the brew always tastes better. Even if one of these coffee ladies doesn't indulge in the taste, she does enjoy the aroma and serving it to others.

A coffee bar at church? Maybe unheard of years ago, but today it is becoming more widespread. I am glad. Coffee promotes socializing. Had I not gotten coffee last week and this week, I may still be awaiting that conversation. Hard as it might be for some of you to believe, I do struggle with some shyness, being insecure, feeling unsure of myself.

I know, who would've guessed.

But really, I have to force myself to go forward sometimes, to be the one to initiate a conversation, to put myself out there. Once a know where I fit and how I belong, then I am okay. Having a cup of Toasted Southern Pecan, liberally laced with cream, in my hand certainly helps.



Coffee Bars in church?
You bet!

Love,
Dianne

Saturday, September 8, 2012

The Week of the Uninspired

Uninspired.
Utterly and completely uninspired.
Mundane.
Unimaginative.
That's me this week and I am starting to get on my nerves.
What makes me this way?
Let's see...
     -too many night shifts in a row,
     -too little time,
     -dirty dishes in disarray,
     -laundry piles that accumulate faster than rabbits,
     -math,
     -wilted, tired plants,
     -dust,
     -crows,
     -rap music,
     -pantyhose,
     -socks with holes,
     -lima beans,
     -bills,
     -constant grumbling...
Oh wait, that's kinda what I am doing isn't it?
Oops.
Okay, enough of that. The time has come, the time is now (thank you Dr. Suess) to be inspired.
But, by what?
Let's see...
     -sn organized kitchen,
     -folded, and put away, laundry.
     -flowers,
     -the scent of vanilla,
     -an omelet stuffed with vegetables,
     -coffee,
     -encouragement from a friend,
     -new fabric,
     -scrapbook paper,
     -vintage china dishes,
     -Pinterest,
     -a walk,
     -fried squash and peppers,
     -Celtic music,
     -a good book,
     -castles. . .
   
    ... and that's just to name a few.
Inspiration comes from what I enjoy, what makes me think, and what makes me wish and dream. It is easy though, to become discouraged by what doesn't get done, what I don't have time for, what I never get accomplished. Discouragement is probably the biggest inspiration killer that there is.

So what am I going to do about it?
Eat an omelet loaded with peppers for breakfast, enjoy a cup of coffee, eat lunch off vintage china, take a walk to get the mail, play Celtic music while I dance around the kitchen (cleaning it of course), and take a break to read a chapter or two.

It's all in a days work after all.
So get up, get moving.
Be inspired.
And whatever you do, don't eat lima beans for lunch.

Love,
Dianne

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

I am Falling for Fall


Touches of Fall are everywhere. In the feel and scent of the air, in the color green that is going from bright to muted as the reds, yellows, oranges and browns make their way to center stage. Everything says "Harvest" and "Make way for cooler weather." I have fingered a few sweaters in my closet, almost longingly, awaiting that just right misty morning to slip one on. My coffee looks steamier, more inviting in the Fall, a book seems more inviting, a candle begs to be lit, and a pumpkin out there has my name on it. Even the garden, although fading from its June glory, has its own appeal. Black-eyed Susans are cheery still, and the lovely purply-pink sedum has yet to reach its zenith. Goldenrod seems to have taken over, and although considered a weed and an aggravator of allergies, I still think it's rather nice. The orange touch-me-nots, another weed have taken over the outskirts of my yard and some gardens. Who can resist touching the plump seed pods and watching the seeds fly out as the pod curls back leaving empty spirals of green? The trumpet vine, clinging to the arbor, is still showing its tenacity by showing off still more of it's melon orange blossoms. And I can't forget the crabapple which is loaded with little red fruits for the birds, because this year I am not sharing my grapes with them. My arbor and vine is quite small yet, but I am thrilled to be getting something off of it this year. I am thankful too for Aunt Emily, who called yesterday to see if we wanted grapes for juice. Her vine and arbor are quite large in comparison. Leo and I went and picked, discussing the latest topic that came through the grapevine. Yesterday afternoon, my kitchen seemed to be filled with a purple mist as the grapes were steamed into submission, making 20 quarts of grape juice concentrate. Every year, I think that I don't want summer to end, but when it comes down to it, I wouldn't miss this time of year for anything. I think I am falling in love all over again with Fall. 












Hurrah for September Blessings!
Love,
Dianne