"Everyday Homes & Gardens"

Tomorrow evening I am having a few guests over for a Pampered Chef Show at my house. It should be fun with food and laughter and good friends. (You all are invited by the way!)

So why do I care what my house looks like?
Does anyone really care what the top of my refrigerator looks like?
Why is it that when we are having company over, that suddenly it becomes of vital importance to clean the house to perfection? Why not just clean it the way we always do, (or never do as the case may be).

I like a clean, organized house. I always have and I probably always will. I like looking at pictures of beautiful homes and dreaming. But I bet that when the homeowners knew a photo shoot was planned for a particular day, they cleaned and organized the same way the rest of us do when company is coming. Maybe there should be a magazine called "Everyday Homes and Gardens-What it looks like every other day of the year" Then the photo shoot could be unannounced, totally random and spontaneous.

I think that as mothers, we take it personally if our children have messy rooms. Or, like my mother, with all of her children grown up and with their own homes, she may feel that if my house is chaotic (I love that word!), it reflects badly on her. Let me just say that my mother taught me and my sisters well. I got married at 18 years of age and I knew how to clean, and cook, and love my husband well, thanks to her example. She did a really great job teaching us considering what she had to work with. (Kimmy, Roxie, and Val...Just kidding!) Thank You Mom.

Now, I know my house gets messy at times. Okay, that may be a bit of an understatement. It is messy most of the time. Usually, it is the normal stuff: dishes that need done, laundry (both dirty and clean), floors to be swept, clutter to be put away or thrown away, paper (schoolwork, junk mail, important mail, papers from work, articles to read or file, etc.), shoes (they are like rabbits at our house and multiply rapidly), and the list goes on. Usually, I have the ironing board set-up with ironing that needs done and I have remnants of my projects here and there. So, my house gets Messy. Disorganized. Chaotic. Pigsty. Cluttered.

Utterly and completely lived in!

I said it before: I like a clean and organized house. It actually is hard for me to focus or relax when it is in a shambolic (now that's a good word!) state. I feel like a cat with all my fur rubbed the wrong way.
I don't like having people over when everything is crazy and that is something I would like to change.
I think my goal would be to have a mostly clean house that when you walk into it, you feel welcome and not afraid to touch something for fear you would "mess it up".

If you are familiar with the Bible and the Book of Proverbs, it talks about "The Wife of Noble Character" in the very last chapter. She is a rather iconic "perfect" woman. She works hard, she is organized, she cares for her family. She seems to be flawless. She is certainly a woman of character to strive to be like. But....did you ever notice that even she had servant girls (verse 15). She didn't do it alone, she had help. Now that is an "aha" moment!

Life is about living it. I don't want to spend all my time cleaning. What about creativity? What about just relaxing (which we do to little of)? What about being able to be totally yourself when people drop in? It's okay if they see a mess; it might just make them feel better about their house and take some pressure off of them to be perfect.

Unless, my house really is the only one to ever get Messy. Disorganized. Chaotic. Pigsty. Cluttered.

I think I need a few servant girls...

Love,
Dianne

Of Baskets, Bins, and Boxes

I went to Lowe's this morning on my way home from work. As I walked through the doors, I could almost hear harps playing off in the distance along with angelic voices singing.
I was on a mission to get shelf brackets, just shelf brackets.

Yeah, right. This is Lowe's I am talking about here.

I walked towards the shelving units and got distracted first by the garden furniture. So many tables with wrought iron legs, wicker furniture, and fireplaces. Then I saw the different varieties of Keurig coffees...

Okay Dianne, get a grip! Shelf brackets, shelf brackets, now focus!



Ah, there they are, along with soooo many options to organize your closet.
 Oooooh, look there! Now that's just what I need! At least that's what I told myself as a began looking at all the storage baskets, bins, and boxes. In neutral brown and ivory, red and green (all 3 are favorite colors of mine), I decided that I would try one to see how it would work to sort some of my fabric in so it is not just exposed on the shelf.

 Now what was I here for? Hmmm...

Look at that cute little place to hang your car keys! I think I will add that to my basket (I picked the brown  linen one) along with some cup hooks to hang on the underside of my shelf that I am putting in the kitchen.

...oh yeah, 2 shelf brackets...


Here are 2 bronze looking ones that will work. I add that to the basket as I spot 2 white shelves that would be perfect over by the stove. I tuck the shelves under my arm and head to the register...

....until the paint distracted me.

I really do have a plan as I add one small can of chalkboard paint to my linen basket.

Okay, I checked out without any incident, drove home and now I am thinking about projects to do.

You can't see me, but I am smiling.

Love,
Dianne

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

"It was a dark and stormy night..."


"One warm night four children stood in front of a bakery." (The Boxcar Children)


"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife." (The Wizard of Oz)


"A wild, ringing neigh shrilled up from the hold of the Spanish galleon." (Misty of Chincoteague)


"The first place that I can remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it."
 (Black Beauty)


'When Portia Blake and her brother Foster set out for Creston that summer, it was different from all the other summers." (Gone-Away Lake)


"Oh Moms," Trixie moaned, running her hands through her short, sandy curls. "I'll just die if I don't have a horse." (Trixie Belden and The Secret of the Mansion)

First impressions are important. These are all quotes from favorite books of mine from my childhood, except for the first one. That one I had to look up to see where it came from (besides the Peanuts comic strip).  Victorian novelist Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton at the beginning of his 1830 novel Paul Clifford came up with that famous phrase. 


Anyhow, back to first impressions...


How many times have I picked out a book at the library and scanned the first page to see if I'd like it? Sometimes, I never get past that page and I put it back on the shelf. Other times, I am instantly pulled into the story and find myself reading two or three pages before adding it to my stack. It comes down to first impressions. Of course, the picture on the cover is always part of that, and whether or not there are pictures in the book. 


Yes, I still like a book with intriguing artwork thrown in here and there. A book with a map at the beginning is always an added attraction for me too. 


First impressions. 


What is the first impression I give people when they first meet me? I guess it depends on where I am or what I am doing. If I need to run to the grocery store really quick for something, I may just go in my comfortable "at-home" attire with my hair rather crazy. Or, when in doubt, throw on a hat; they can cover a multitude of sins. The impression I may give is of someone who is too busy to care. I would like to think "free-spirited" or "carefree". 


When I am at work, I try to look professional, with a clean, ironed pair of scrubs with a touch of fun thrown in. A smile is part of that as it is just as important as the clothing I put on. I would like my patients (like the babies really notice) and their families to look at me and find me professional, approachable, and friendly.


If I was a book, what would my cover say about me? What would be the first sentence, the first pages that I would want people to remember me by? What would draw people in to my life and make them want to stay for a lifetime? 


After that initial first impression, what about the impression I make everyday to the people who see me and know me all the time? Today, my family would probably say that their first impression of me was one of Ebenezer Scrooge, or The Grinch. I am surprised they didn't send me back to my room. 


So, starting now, I am closing my book and reopening it. I am writing a new story for the rest of the day. I may not be Pollyanna (I would even get on my nerves if I was that happy), but I'd settle for Anne of Green Gables. 


Til tomorrow,
Love,
Dianne

Of Mice and Women

I love to hear the sound of cute little feet scampering gleefully across the floor.

Especially in the middle of the night, in the attic.

Amy likes to hear the sound in the pantry, which is right beside her bedroom, along with chewing and gnawing.

No, it's not Ryan or Aaron looking for a snack in the middle of the night. The culprits are little furry gray-brown mice that have invaded the house.

Now, I know this happens annually and I should just learn to anticipate it, setting out traps and poison well in advance, but somehow, I never do.  I think it is because I watched too many Tom & Jerry cartoons, as well as read all of The Littles books growing up. Another favorite book was Mrs Frisby and The Rats of Nimh. And don't forget Ratatouille. What if the mice really aren't the bad guys? What if I cause the father or the mother mouse to leave their children all alone and defenseless?

Did you ever notice that when you watch a movie with a mouse (like Mouse Hunt), that you find yourself actually rooting for the mouse? You don't want him to get caught. But yet, when they are chewing up your food, leaving their little packages behind on the counter...

Living on a farm, with the barn relatively close to the house, means that mice, and even rats, are inevitable. Even with Tigger, Martha, Kurt and Frederich (The Barn Cat Brigade) on patrol, those little rodents find their way into the house. A few years ago ( I shudder to even think about it), we had a rat that made it to the inside. At the time, Aaron had a hamster named Gimli and he had a nice yummy stash of gourmet hamster food in his bedroom. The rat found this quite convenient and eagerly settled in for a long winter. Aaron was suspicious that something was amiss...

Then one night, I awoke to the sound of something quite different than the sound of scampering feet. It was...

...the sound of loud, uncontrollable man laughter coming from Aaron's room.

Leo and Aaron had cornered the uninvited visitor and were attempting to escort it from the premises. Let's just say that they were successful and leave it at that. That was the last rat we ever saw in the house. I'm guessing that the word spread quickly in the rodent community to definitely not try that again.

Friends of mine had squirrels in their house. I suppose I should be thankful I don't have groundhogs moving in.

Love,
Dianne

My Someday Kitchen Right Now

Lately, I have been in a Spring Housecleaning kind of mood. The kitchen has been my victim.  Somehow it just seems the place to start as it is the first room anyone visiting our house sees. It tends to get the messiest too (this is not counting individual bedrooms!).

The first impression I had of my kitchen was that it was comfortable, welcoming, and warm. We sat around the kitchen table with our future landlord and worked out details. I liked the way the sun came slanting in the window over the sink. I liked the stove which looked like something my Grandma owned, with the pushbuttons on the top to control the burners and the extra drawers on the side. I liked the wormy chestnut wood covering the one wall and framing the sink. I could definitely see us living here in this farmhouse, raising our children. 

 I still like my kitchen, but over the past 15 years, it has been used hard. There are a couple of holes in the drywall. One is behind where I hang my apron (and you wondered why I never wear it), and the other is behind the dry erase/bulletin board (and you wondered why it was hanging so low). That hole, a rather large one, came from Adrienne in a moment of excitement over going to a friend's house. She ran to go to the stairs and ran into the wall instead. And went right through it.

The wormy chestnut around the sink, which I had initially liked, has not held up well with all the dishes washed and all the water that has managed to get out of the sink. If I had a food inspector come to my house, he'd probably arrest me on the spot for how it looks around the sink. I can't believe I am admitting this, but one time a seed actually sprouted in the crack between the sink and the cupboard.

Speaking of the cupboards, there are 2 rather small sections of them. One, I actually really like because it is old and fits my farmhouse. I painted the top ones once and am trying to decide the next color. When our kitchen gets a makeover, that cupboard stays even if it plain and by some standards, outdated. The other set is just the lower cupboards and I am not so fond of them. They are 1990's and don't say "farmhouse" to me; they say "I was a quick fix". And truly, they have served their purpose fairly well. To be fair, it probably wasn't totally the cabinet's fault that the doors have all been broken and fixed a couple times. Children climbing and swinging on the doors may have had something to do with their demise.

I like dreaming about my "someday kitchen". I have lots of ideas and I like clipping pictures from magazines and pinning on Pinterest. It all costs money, as it should, and we just need to keep saving up, little by little. Someday, we may get around to doing the whole kitchen redo, but for now, I need to just do little things to keep it going. Who knows, I may just end up really liking it and not going for the whole complete makeover, just the parts that really need it.

I need to be thankful for my kitchen, even as it is. I could be having to haul water to cook with and build a fire. Someday I may have a range hood, more cupboard space, an adequate place to put a garbage can, and an oven that cleans itself, but in the meantime, I choose to be thankful.

Now, what should I make for supper?

Love,
Dianne

The Moments...

Sometimes it is the simple things in life that bring a smile.

...a peanut butter and jelly sandwich
...an unexpected phone call from a friend
...fuzzy PJ bottoms
...slippers
...a cat purring
...coffee
...rich creamer
...chocolate
...baby breath
...seeing a photo from a vacation
...driving in the car with your daughter
...dancing
...a walk in the Springtime
...a walk in the newly fallen snow
...seeing plants push through the soil
...the smell of soil in the Spring
...secret gardens
...the thought of fairies
...clothes that fit
...laughter with sisters
...moss on rocks
...strawberries
...the smell of vanilla
...a spoonful of whipped cream
...padded bicycle seats
...chai tea
...a massage
...Celtic music
...bubbles
...a pink and orange sunset
...a crossed-off to-do list
...finding the missing sock(s)
...finding the missing mitten(s)
...rain boots
...mud puddles
...butterflies and dragonflies
...writing my blog

...and the list could go on. Life is full of little moments with a few big ones thrown in. What am I going to do with the little moments?

I could make a list of all the moments that bring a frown, but why would I want to dwell there? Sometimes, being happy is a willful choice. I have days that I simply do not feel like being happy and it is on those days that I have to make an effort to be thankful, to look for things that bring me joy. Am I always successful? No (ask my kids and Leo, they'll tell you!) Do I have days that I just want to stay in bed and ignore life? Yes.

I guess what I am saying is that I need a reminder as much as anyone, that life is full of ups and downs and that I will have days that I am in a dark valley struggling to get to the other side where there is light. But in the midst of that, there are moments that bring a splash of joy if I would only just look outside of myself.

My today resolution: Look for the moments, and savor them. Store them up to be remembered for  
                                     a dark day. 


Love,
Dianne

Explanation of a Title

"Vintage Dandelion"...why?

When I started this blog, I needed to come up with a title for it. I tried various things, but everything was taken already. I honestly can't even remember what else I tried, because now vintageDandelion is just who I am.

"Vintage". I just really like the word. It like how it sounds and I like the picture in my head that I get when I say it.
       Old elaborate keys and sepia photos,
       women in hats with ribbons and flowers,
       ivory colored lace,
       wooden doors,
       houses with towers and curlicue trim work,
       front porches with swings,
       homemade ice-cream,
       lazy summer days,
       fireflies at dusk,
       traveling by train,
       yes ma'am and no sir,
       one-room schoolhouses,
       and classic literature.

 You get the idea. I know that "back then", the good old days weren't always good, and certainly weren't always easy, but the feeling is just there. I am not sure I can explain it, but life was, in many ways, simpler and slower-paced. Even the 1970ies is starting to feel like the good old days to me.

"Dandelion". I like gardening. I like flowers. But why a dandelion? They are probably not listed anywhere near the top of my list of favorite flowers, but somehow it also just fit. First of all, my name starts with a "D" and so does dandelion. Then I thought about how chipper the little yellow blossoms are. I gave dandelion bouquets as a kid and I've gotten them from my children. They are a flower that just begs to be used to encourage somebody. And simply because there is no lack of them anywhere, they can be picked freely, with wild abandon. I like that.

Dandelions are also multifaceted. When they are young and tender, they wind up in salads (which I can't say that I really like all that much). Then they become the cheerful yellow blossoms that are everywhere and are the basis of those oft-given bouquets. After that they become the fluffy white puffballs that everybody has picked and blown while making a wish. Those seeds scatter and the cycle starts all over again. I would like to think that I am a little like the dandelion in that I am also multifaceted. I am not just a mother, just a wife, just a nurse, just a friend. I am all of those things at the same time in varying degrees.

So, that's me: vintageDandelion. I hope that I can continue to make my blog a place of inspiration, not just  for whoever reads it, but for myself as well.

Love,
Dianne

Simply Beautiful

I finished up 3 busy nights at work, came home and slept a couple of hours, and am now drinking a hazelnut coffee while relaxing on the couch. The sun is shining, and Spring is in the air. If I had a pot of honey I'd feel like Winnie The Pooh. 

Last night, driving over to work, I started thinking about beauty. What is "beauty"? What do I find beautiful? 


Definition of BEAUTY

1

: the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit : loveliness

2

: a beautiful person or thing; especially : a beautiful woman

3

: a particularly graceful, ornamental, or excellent quality

4

: a brilliant, extreme, or egregious example or instance<that mistake was a beauty>

I like how in #2 it mentions "especially: a beautiful woman".  No pressure there.  And again, I wonder...what do I think is beautiful?

When it comes to a person, a woman to be more specific, I think beauty is both inside and outside. To me, a beautiful woman is:

Someone who is confident in who she is as a woman  and embraces that. Like the woman who can walk with her head held high, whether she is wearing an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt or dressed for an evening out on the town. 

Someone who takes time to take care of her physical appearance but doesn't make that her primary focus. (We have all met the gorgeous woman with the stinky attitude that after a little while in her company, we decide she is not so pretty after all. )

Someone who smiles with her whole being.

Someone who isn't afraid to smile like that. 

Someone who can comfort a child when he cries.

Someone who can laugh with a child without reservation.

Someone who is able to talk to anyone, whether they are talking to the person who has it all "together, or the the person who is addicted to drugs. 

Someone who knows how to dress her body. We come in all shapes and sizes, but when you know how to wear clothes that fit your shape...wow. 

To me, that woman is beautiful. Beauty is not just for the young, the thin, the flawless outer shell. Beauty is more than skin deep, but it does include the skin. 

I was looking for a quote about beauty and on the page I went to, in the sidebar, there was an ad for photo retouching. It was showing a woman, looking natural, then transforming into the "beautiful" woman, with no blemish or imperfection. Sigh. And I never did find a quote that said what I wanted. 

I guess I'll make my own. 

"Beauty is not limited by age, race, gender, or size. It is only limited by how we perceive ourselves." 

So go look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are beautiful. 

I. Am. Beautiful. 

Simply because God created you, you are beautiful. 

Love, Dianne

Great Expectations

Expectations. To expect something. What does that mean? (And really, the more I say expect and expectations and spell it, the funnier it looks.)

Expect is to look forward (Merriam-Webster). Expectation is to be in the act or state of expecting (Merriam-Webster).

Expectations can be good or bad. Like, what I am expecting work to be like this weekend, or what I am expecting to do on my next vacation. And sometimes what we expect isn't what really happens or occurs when it comes down to it, and often we are disappointed.

Amy is working on a project for the life-sized CandyLand game the youth group is doing tomorrow. She is a fabulous artist with all kinds of talent (I may be her mother, and just a little biased, but she is really good!) and she can come up with drawings/paintings in a matter of hours that amaze me.

So there you have it. My expectations for this project are high because she has set the bar high. Not only are my expectations high, but so are many others who have seen her artwork. And therein lies the problem for Amy.










She is having a hard time coming up with an idea that meets what she thinks the expectations are. She has already scrapped a couple of ideas, even painting over some of what she had already had done. Right now, she is starting over completely, flipping over the board she is working on to come up with something new.

So much concentration...

The first side of the board that she decided not to use...

Okay, so she made this face just for me, but she has looked sad all morning :(

Amy is frustrated by her expectations. She is frustrated by what others are expecting from her. And it is making her unable to enjoy what she normally loves to do.  So, I hugged her and we prayed together because even what seems like small details in life are important to God. 

Then we brainstormed and looked on the internet for ideas and we found something that she thinks will work. Now if she can just keep those expectations under control and just enjoy the process. 

Expectations. Expectations. Expectations. Expectations. 

See what I mean? The more you focus on expectations, the funnier it looks and doesn't make as much sense anymore. Kinda like focusing too much on the real thing. 

And how did the project end? She is still working on it, but it will be at Salisbury School tomorrow for CandyLand (hey, you all can come on over and check it out!). I can tell you that this time around, she is at least looking happy as she works on it.

Love,

Dianne 

A Style of My Own

I was watching HGTV this morning and it got me thinking about style. What is style and what does it matter? According to http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/style:

Definition of STYLE

1

: designation, title

2

a : a distinctive manner of expression (as in writing or speech) <writes with more attention to style than to content> <the flowery style of 18th century prose>b : a distinctive manner or custom of behaving or conducting oneself <the formal style of the court> <hisstyle is abrasive>; also : a particular mode of living <in high style>c : a particular manner or technique by which something is done, created, or performed <a unique style of horseback riding> <the classical style of dance>

Okay, so style has something to do with expression, manner, technique and the way one conducts themselves. I think your style, whether it is in clothing or how we decorate our house is a reflection of who you are. If that is the case, what is my style and what does it say about me?

I walked around my house and took a few pictures that show in a small way how I like to decorate. I like vintage, antique, and history. I like plants, mason jars and old tins. I like green, red, brown, and neutral colors mixed together. I like texture. I like photos, lots of photos. And I like books, lots of books. I like what I have around me to tell a story. 

 

                                                                           

My sewing corner, complete with all kinds of memorabilia to look at to inspire me.

Sometimes I wonder what the "style experts" would say if they came to my house.

"I can't believe she did that to this room! Whatever was she thinking?"

"This woman has no sense of style!"

"She needs help!"

Are these the things they would say as they repainted and rearranged? Or would they like it?

And would I care?

You see, I like my house. I decorate with what feels right to me. It may not be worthy of a magazine layout, it may not be what the up-to-date interior design people like, it is certainly not modern. But it is me. 

And after all, isn't that what style is about? Being yourself, and letting yourself shine. Now my house isn't just about me, it is about my family. I hope what I do reflects that. Let me know what you think next time you visit! 

Love,

Dianne

Have your cake and eat it too!

I think I consumed 200,000 calories yesterday. In one single Mocha Brownie.

Thanks to The Pioneer Woman and her cookbook, our Valentine's Dinner was FANTASTIC. and quite fattening....but FANTASTIC!

Our menu for the evening festivities was:

Perfect Pot Roast

and it was perfect...oh yeah

PW's Creamy Mashed Potatoes

with cream cheese, cream and butter

Burgundy Mushrooms

and they simmered all day filling the kitchen with an amazing aroma

Applesauce

with cinnamon

Mocha Brownies 

with vanilla ice-cream

I think I need to go to confession

and I am not even Catholic.

All I can say is that it is a good thing Leo got me a treadmill. I walked 5 miles this morning. Only 995 more to go to burn off the brownie(s). I mean, did you really think I 'd only eat just one?

I do try to eat healthy most of the time. But, I just gotta point out, that the first 3 letters in diet are D I E. 

I don't want to live my life always focused on eating only the healthy stuff all the time. Sometimes you just need to enjoy food without worrying. I do enough of that every other day of the year. And I did try to make a couple healthy-ish changes to the meal, like trimming the fat off the roast before cooking it, using low fat cream cheese, and not quite as much butter as was recommended in the recipes. 

And it all tasted delicious and we ate together, all of us, and we talked, and laughed, and the kitchen got quite loud. I think it was one of the best Valentine's ever. 

Love,

Dianne

                            

Lovin' my Leo

Twenty-six years ago, I started to notice this blond-haired, blue-eyed guy at youth group and church events. I'd known him for awhile, but now I was noticing him. Really noticing him.

And wondering if he was noticing me too.

He was.

I was 15 and he was 19 when we went on out first date to the Starlite Roller Rink in LaVale, MD. After that first date, I don't think we ever looked back. It was just, well, it was right.

A lot of people told me I was too young to know what I wanted out of life. I was even told by a teacher that I'd be throwing my life away if I got married young; that it was pretty much going to end in divorce.

We dated anyways. Cause we were in love. It didn't happen right away, at least not for me. I wasn't really sure I knew what love was. I didn't want to say "I love you" just because Leo said it first.

(You did know that was Leo I was talking about, right?)

So, it went a little while after we started dating before I ventured to say those words. It's kinda funny, but I don't remember that exact moment, that first time I said it. However,  I do remember the first time Leo told me he loved me. He was driving me home in his old Monte Carlo (The Bomber) and we had just passed where the Hamburger House used to be in Accident. He said those words and then asked me if I was scared. I said "no", but inside I was a mix of excitement, happiness, and yes, a little fear.

But gradually, as we spent time together, I did fall in love. And it was not just over the good times, the fun times with the youth group, going bowling, eating out, watching M*A*S*H at my parents house, and riding horse at his house, although they all were part of it.
 I fell in love as I watched him grieve the loss of a nephew and I saw how he let it make him a stronger, better man instead of beating him down.
I fell in love when I saw how much he loved his family and wasn't afraid to show his love to his family.
I fell in love when he teased his mom and made her laugh.
I fell in love because he treated me like a lady even when I didn't feel very graceful or ladylike.
I fell in love when he played with my little sister and didn't treat her like she was in the way.
I fell in love because he was a man of integrity and honor.
He was, and is the man for me.

Leo, I just want to say I love you. I really love you. You are the man I fell in love with when I was 16, the man I married when I was 18, and the man I want to continue to grow old with. You are like a fine wine, you've only gotten better!

Dont' ask why I am holding a gun. I don't even know the answer to that one. 

Fresh and energized after a 21 mile bike ride...

I didn't know what to give you for Valentine's Day, so at the risk of sounding completely corny, I am giving you my heart, all of it. I love you. XOXO

Dianne

PreValentine's Day

So, tomorrow's Valentine's Day. What to do, what to do?

Believe me, it is not the man in this house who has a hard time with gifts and surprises. It's me.
Maybe I just try to hard and end up making the whole process harder than it needs to be. I had the same problem at Christmas as I recall. When I ask Leo what he'd like for Valentine's Day, he just says, "A kiss", or "just keep lovin' me". That's all well and good, but on a special day set aside for LOVE, I'd like to do something at least remotely above and beyond.

We are going to make dinner here and include all the youngsters who are around for the evening. And then...I don't know. I mean, we can all use our imaginations here, but I'm not talking about that. 


I work tonight, so maybe in the middle of the night, I'll have a romantic breakthrough.

I could just leave it all up to Leo to make Valentine's Day romantic and lovey-dovey, but that doesn't totally seem fair to me. It takes 2 of us every other day of the year, so why not that day too? And, even though he is a guy, a manly man I might add, he is a romantic at heart. He enjoys the romantic stuff, in a masculine kind of way of course.

So for now, it's at least dinner by candlelight, maybe a good romantic comedy, not to chick-flicky, and maybe a walk in the possible snow shower that could be here tomorrow evening.

Unless I have a brilliant idea in the meantime...

Love and Valentines,
Until tomorrow,
Dianne

Ryan and Ryan

Ryan and Ryan; 2 buddies spending an unexpected day together today.  Ryan Bender needed a place to hang out while his family was at Bible Quizzing events today and my Ryan was more than happy to have a friend to spend the afternoon with.

They are alike in ways other than their name. They both meticulously picked the vegetables out of their strombolis at lunchtime, and they both like bananas, scrambled eggs and pancakes. They both like playing games on the computer, they both like to play pretend under the cover of a tent made with Ryan's bed.

I believe they were spies. And dogs, but not at the same time.

I think this is seriously the best age to have a friend over to play for the day. The imagination of 7 and 8 year old boys is boundless. I don't know why I don't do this more often.

Well, I do kinda know. I think it is just a little out of that comfortable area for me. Like, what if they hate what I cook, or they are bored out of their minds because we don't own a Playstation or a Wii? What if they hurt themselves and need first aid?

I know I am a nurse, but I really don't do well with blood and other yucky stuff.
Quick, get the smelling salts! No, not for the bleeding person, it's for the nurse!"


But today was nice. No injuries, no boredom, and nobody starved. And Ryan and Ryan had a day to remember. I even got a Sunday nap in.

I hope they weren't spying on me while I snored.

Here's to good buddies!

Love,

Dianne

Walking From the Heart

Yesterday, when I got home, there was an early Valentine's gift in the living room for me.  It was something I had been wanting for a long time, but hadn't been able to find one used. And there it was.

A treadmill.

Now some people might say, "Your husband got you a treadmill for Valentine's Day??!! Whatever was he thinking? How unromantic!"

I beg to differ. It would be one thing if I had never wanted one, or if I hated exercise. Or even worse, if I thought I didn't need to lose weight or be in better health, and he got me one.

But, I do like to exercise. I do need to lose a few more pounds and I want to be in better health. So, for me, a treadmill was perfect. Leo had been watching the newspaper religiously for one and when this one showed up the other day in a local town, he called, he went, he purchased, and now it is in my living room.

I love my man.

Last night, we all tried it out. Aaron had it going at the fastest speed possible and got blisters on his feet. The girls kept it reasonable. Ryan probably had it a a relatively slow speed, but for his legs, it looked fast. I got on it last evening a little while after supper and walked a mile in 17 minutes. IT FELT GOOD! Now I have to compete with myself to see what my fastest mile can be.

I like walking outside, but I hate walking along the road, or having to drive somewhere to go for a walk. Today I can walk as long as I want without going out in the cold.  And I can walk in my pajamas if I want to.

I think I'm going to like having a treadmill.

Now if I can just keep it from becoming a place to hang my clothes.

Love,
Dianne

Another Baby

I held a baby today.

Now I know that sounds kinda funny considering I hold lots of babies at work. But this was different. This was Levi, a close friend's baby; a baby that I could just hold and snuggle and not have to worry about what time he ate or what his poop looked like. I didn't have to chart anything and it was lovely.

I held a baby today, simply for the joy of it. And I smiled...a lot. So did he. And neither one of us was smiling because we had gas. We smiled because we were enjoying being together.

Holding Levi and smelling his baby smells, seeing his toothless grin, hearing his coos and goos, and hugging his chubby legs all made me think about having just one more. One more baby. Sometimes those maternal feelings just rise up inside and I remember all those incredible moments...

Finding out I was pregnant again after having had a miscarriage...
Hearing the heartbeat for the 1st time and seeing the little jellybean that would become Adrienne...
...Aaron...Amy...Heather...Ryan...
Feeling those first flutters and kicks...
Watching my belly get bigger and rounder...
Labor pains (and yes, you do look back on them with fond memories)...
Those first cries...
Those first smiles..
The belly laughs that surprises even them...
The sticky fingers around your neck when they hug you...
Wet kisses...
Family time with everyone on the bed...
Taking care of a sick child all night...praying...
Hearing your child pray for the first time...
Kids jumping on the trampoline...
Kickball in the summer...
Arguments, I mean, discussions, around the supper table...
Watching Aaron learn to play piano...
Watching Amy's art develop...
Watching Heather dance...
Watching Adrienne lead out with other young people...
Watching Ryan learn to love to read...

The years have passed; it has been 8 1/2 years since a baby was born into this household. And, you know, I am okay with that. Even though sometimes that maternal urge kicks in and you think about a baby, it happens rarely now. I am at a different season. I am enjoying my family and the place we are today. I am content...

...and I can always go visit Levi and his mama when I need to.

Thanks Little Buddy! I enjoyed out morning together.
Love,
Dianne

Slalom, Slush, and Snowplow

Last evening, my sister-in-law, Karen, took Amy and Heather to The Wisp to go skiing for their very first time. I haven't had a chance to talk to them, but the videos Karen posted looked like they had a blast!

I am glad they had fun. I am pleased that their first experience on skis was a positive one. I sure wish mine had been...

When I was in 5th Grade at Accident Elementary School (at least I think it was 5th grade), our class went to The Wisp Ski Resort in McHenry MD for the day. Despite not owning any "official" ski clothing or having any experience, I was excited.  That morning, I layered on lots of clothes and headed to school. Soon, a busload of happy kids was headed for the slopes.

Upon arrival, we were fitted with boots and skis and shown how to put them on and also how to stand with them on. This skill of attaching your ski to your boot was a very necessary one for me to learn, because every single time I fell down, which I might add was frequent, my ski would fall off. I spent half the time there on the ground reattaching equipment.

Once we had boots and skis, we headed out in small groups to the beginner slope to have a ski lesson. You know, the basics. How to start, stop, snowplow, reattach skis, etc.

My instructor liked everyone in our group but me.

No, really. When a student learned the snowplow technique, he would move them to the next group to advance their skills. After a few attempts, not counting the one where I got turned around and was going backwards towards the parking lot, I figured out how to snowplow. I never got moved up to the next level. He never even told me I did a good job.

Oh, the heartbreak of a 10 year old on skis.

After the lesson, we were on our own. I was off to tackle the rope tow. It certainly looked easy enough. Just grab ahold of the rope gently and as you do, it will pull you up the hill. 


For the record, they lied.

Every time I got the rope and did what they said to do, it would violently jerk me forward, and with my face planted in the snow, would begin to drag me up the hill. I could hear voices yelling, "Let go! Roll out of the way!" They didn't need to tell me twice as there were people behind me, successfully managing the rope and they would've skied right over me.

The next thing I tried was walking up the hill (still the beginners slope), turning around and skiing down. I think that only happened twice. The first time, I plowed into an unsuspecting person and knocked them down, nearly skewering them with my pole. The second time, I ended up in the row of pine trees that divided the slopes.

The best part of the whole day was eating lunch.

My grand ski adventure never got off the beginner's slope. And I never tried it again.

Watching my girls ski made me think that maybe I should try it again. Maybe I could actually ski. Maybe I should add that to my list of life goals. I've never broken a bone before; what better way to try?

And maybe, just maybe, that ski instructor is retired...

Love,
Dianne

Project for the Day

I worked a daylight shift yesterday. I had 2 alarm clocks set; one for 4:30am and the other for 4:50am. I figured that way I'd be sure to get up on time. (For the record, I hit snooze many times and then got up at 5:00.)

 I worked as staff nurse for 4hrs, then had education stuff the rest of the day. Even though the time frame was the same as if I'd worked a night shift, it sure seemed a lot longer. I was home and in bed, asleep by 10:30pm, which is early by my standards.

So, I was up and ready to start my day at 7:00 this morning.

Not.

It was more like, almost 10:00. I work tonight and I needed to recover from yesterday's trauma of waking up at an unheard of hour. At least that's what I told myself.

I had good intentions of working on paperwork again, but I just don't feel like it. I might for a little bit, but not all afternoon. Instead, I want to finish a project that has been waiting to be finished. I have an old dresser that used to be just stained wood, then it was pink for the girl's room, and now it is a rusty red color in the kitchen.

I removed the drawers and inserted baskets (for potatoes, onions, and misc. magazines). But the bottom half has been left undone. It is a great place for the guys to put their lunch boxes, and for me to put my basket of "quick to grab as I go out the door" gardening tools. The top is being used as a place to harness those things that belong in other places (like clothing borrowed from a friend, library books, etc), a basket with CDs (to listen to while washing dishes), and another basket with chalk to leave messages with.

I am kinda throwing around the idea of turning it into a coffee/tea bar. Maybe someday.

But today, I am going to sew a curtain to cover up the bottom half. That's my Today Resolution. The one thing I want to accomplish (besides the usual laundry, dishes...)

And now, 2 hours later...

I like it! Okay, next project....

Love,
Dianne