Words From Ryan

Me: How was your day today?
Ryan: Good.
Me: Just good?
Ryan: Ummm, Mrs Edwards didn't get mad at us.
Me: Does she usually?
Ryan: Sometimes, but not usually. Like when we don't turn in our homework.
Me: Oooo-kay. Anything else about today?
Ryan: I was impatient to get home so I could enjoy the trampoline.
Me: …which still isn't together by the way. You just got it yesterday. Speaking of yesterday, what was special about it?
Ryan: Ummm, being my birthday?
Me: Yes. And how old are you now? 
Ryan: 10. You should know that!
Me: I do. What do you remember about being a baby?
Ryan: I got fed and I cried.
Me: Isn't it usually "I cried and then I got fed?"
Ryan: no words; just looking at me like I am weird.
Me: What do you think being 10 years old will be like? How will it be different than 8 or 9?
Ryan: You get in a higher grade.

Me: What's your favorite color, now that you are 10?
Ryan: Lime
Me: You are a boy of few words, aren't you.
Ryan: I guess.
Me: What are you doing this evening?
Ryan: Making a trampoline! And hitting a volleyball against the wall…
Me: You mean where you already broke a basement window out? 
Ryan: Uh-huh, that's right.
Me: Why don't you hit the ball out by the barn? 
Ryan: Because the rooster is there.
Me: You are just like Grandma. 
Me: I don't like the rooster up close either. 
Me: Any other words of wisdom?
Ryan: Nope.
Me: I love you.
Ryan: Okay. I love you back.

Yesterday…Quite a Day.

Yesterday was yesterday. I'd rather not repeat it.

Not that it was a bad day, it was just a day. 

Let's see. 

I got off work, slept about an hour, ran a few errands, then got home. I did a few work-related phone calls, worked on my schedule and to-do lists for the next two weeks, straightened up the house and put a load of laundry in. 

Walking up to get Ryan off the bus, I thought about the cupcakes I needed to make yet today so he'd have them for school tomorrow. Maybe I'd get them done before leaving for the girl's volleyball game. 

I didn't. 

The game was nail-biting. They lost one, won one, lost one, won one, then won the tie-breaker. I think my blood pressure went up a bit and the people around me probably wished I'd go sit down and quit pacing. I can't help it!

So home again, home again jiggity-jig. I still had cupcakes to bake. 

I started. I had ingredients in the bowl by 10pm. Then the  phone rang. Nora, the girl's horse, was frisking about, on the wrong side of the fence. 

Cupcakes on hold, we drove off gallantly to put things right. 

"Mom, just leave the car lights on. So we can see." 

(Uh-huh. Remember that part.)

The lovely Nora was enjoying the grass, which actually was greener on the this side of the fence.

Go figure. 

"You want me to go where? Now? Why? I like it out here." 

If I was Nora, I'd be thinking this:

"If I stay on this side of the gate, these girls pick the fresh grass and feed it to me. Go back? Nah!"

In the end, she did go back, quite nicely. 

My girls, horse whisperers. 

(Ignore the creepy horse eye.)

Okay, that's done. We are all freezing now and head back to the car. 

We need gloves. 

We need another jacket. 

We need jumper cables.

No kidding. 

My car battery is dead and no one is around to give us a jump. We could hitch the frisky horse to the car and tow it home…

We called Adrienne instead. Between the two of us, we got the cables attached correctly, no one got shocked and my car started. She's quite a gal! A flashlight would have been helpful, but right when we needed a light, my cell phone battery died. The way this was going, let's just say I was thankful I didn't have a pacemaker battery to worry about. 

Home again, home again jiggly-jig. Same song, second verse. 

By now, it's after midnight. My night shift brain has forgotten that I haven't slept more than an hour since Sunday morning and I still have cupcakes to finish. The kids went to bed, I baked. 

Gingerbread cupcakes. 

Spicy. 

Mmmmmm. 

 Suffice it to say that yesterday was a day.
What's today got that can beat that?

Love,
Dianne

A Milk-Can With My Coffee

When the day starts with a stop at a coffee shop, it bodes well. Quite well. I got a Pumpkin Pie Cappuccino; I tell you, it's an obsession. The only thing that could have made this stop any better was if it involved a rendezvous with my man. 

Wait a second.

It did. 

He met me at 0730.

I liked this semi-spontaneous date. 

I think he did too. 

We sat outside, sipping coffee and eating an egg sandwich on a croissant. 

Being a gentleman, he sat on my chair first and dried it off.

It was a good thing I had the coffee as I am quite sure it made my mind sharper because

as I got nearer home, I remembered there was an auction in Springs today. 

On that auction, there was listed an item I was interested in:

a milk-can, painted by the one and only Alta Bender. 

(That's my grandma.)

I texted my sister-in-law to see if she was there.

She was.

I wondered if the item had sold yet. 

It hadn't. 

I wondered if she would bid on it for me.

She would. 

Then I found out what was on the milk-can:

A painting of our farm!

I had no idea; I just wanted to bid because it was something done by Grandma. 

Back in March 1987 this was painted:

And here I thought my day couldn't get any better than coffee with Leo. 

I love picking out the familiar and noting the differences that 26 years makes. 

What a gift. 

And to think, if I hadn't thought of the auction when I did, I would have completely missed it. 

I first texted her at 0934 and it sold at 0946. 

I was going to give it to Leo for an anniversary gift, but I couldn't wait; I was too excited. 

And really, the only thing that could make this any better?

A John Deere tractor!

A JD 4010 perhaps…

Love, love, love it!!!

Love,

Dianne

Red Balloons

Imagine a frail older woman with a bunch of red helium balloons. She is so pleased with her balloons and doesn't  realize that the balloons, while not enough to let her soar, are actually pulling her out towards the edge of an ocean, waves toppling onto the shore. This would be fine except the woman holding the balloons isn't so strong anymore and the current is dangerous. She was once a fine, strong swimmer but not anymore. 

Her arms have grown tired. 

Her cane is never far from her reach anymore. 

Her eyes, while still bright and can flash with anger, don't always see so clearly.

The music she hears seems distant and muffled somehow. 

Her thoughts make sense in her head, like a dream makes sense until you wake up. 

When she says her thoughts aloud, no one seems to understand. 

She doesn't understand. 

She only wants to be strong. 

She just wants to do what she used to do. 

Imagine a younger woman with a pin. She looks up to, respects the older woman, but she is afraid that she is going to get hurt, or feel embarrassed if she allows the balloons to take her out to sea. It doesn't matter if  the older woman used to do it; what matters is that now, she can't. She shouldn't. 

The pin. 

Poised to strike, the younger woman feels guilty, like she should go out to sea with her friend. 

To help her.

But she can't. Not now. 

Her own family needs her. 

But so does this silver-haired woman. 

The young woman is torn; she wants to be there for both.

 

Maybe, if the balloons were gone, safety could be assured. 

Reason could be restored. 

She had tried to reason with the older woman. 

Voices were raised; hers so she could be heard, the other because anger was edging in. 

One balloon was pierced, gone. Then another before the rest were jerked angrily out of reach.

Hurt feelings and misunderstood words.

Stubbornness.

"How can I make myself be understood", they both thought.

Compassion, gentleness,

A hand to guide, even when it steers away from what she wants to do. 

Because wanting and doing isn't always the right thing to do. 

~~~~~

These are my thoughts, started last night but finished this morning. I am in a situation where I need to step back, for this year, from something I love to do. Someone else has loved it too, for many more years than I. She can't do it alone. I know that, but she doesn't. Or refuses to accept that. I tried to be blunt with her, because she needs to hear it straight and clear, but she is stubborn. I hurt because I feel that she is hurting. I feel like I left her with her red balloons in hand, some now dragging on the ground behind her as she clings to what they represent.

Any words of wisdom? Any thoughts? One part of my heart says, "Help, do whatever you can to make her plans happen." The other part says, "Be realistic. The resources are not there. You have a wedding and tearing yourself in pieces to do all, be all, is going to leave you in worse shape than the deflated red balloons."

I know what I need to do; it just doesn't make it easier. 

Love,

Dianne

Go Lady Elks!

My girls had a volleyball game tonight. I love watching them play, especially as I am finally starting to understand the game a little better. Kinda. That, and the fact that these girls have been together for a couple of years and they are really looking like a team this year. I love that they support each other, even when they make a mistake. No one is pointing fingers, saying that any one person lost the game. They know that as a team, they win. As a team, they lose.

And last night….and tonight….THEY WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not that I am excited or anything.

I know "it's not about winning; it's how you play that matters." But, when winning is the added benefit of a game well played, it does feel good; I won't deny it. So good, in fact, that I ran out after the game to get pizza. I know my girls; they'd be hungry.

But the Salisbury pizza place was closed. At 8:30pm on a Wednesday? What!?
I went to Meyersdale; I needed to fill up my car anyhow. You know, that living on the edge, having it on the "E" thing I do? I work in the morning. I thought I'd be safer doing it tonight so I wouldn't forget in the morning. Besides, my girls needed pizza. Because they WON!!!!!!!!!!!

I stood in line, waiting. Everybody else in town must've had the same idea I did. So, I waited and I watched. I saw people come in, a few dressed in PJ's (a trend which I will never quite grasp), one lady in scrubs, a few other volleyball players, and more just like me in their Wednesday best casual dress.

I wondered if anyone could tell that I was nearly busting with pride at how my girls played. Both of my girls, even though one was on the JV team that lost and one was on the Varsity team that won. Both played hard and both kept a good attitude throughout their games. Yes, I am a proud mama.

Tonight could be the last game they win this season, or they could win the next five, but no matter what, I'll be proud. Through the game they have learned about holding their heads up even when it hurts, to be big enough to say, "Good game" to the other team even when they aren't feeling it, to keep trying even when they want to quit. They have learned true sportsmanship and camaraderie with their teammates. Yes, I am a proud mama.

We have had many nights ending in defeat, in tears of frustration because they thought they could have, should have played better. But they have not given in to defeat. They keep getting up. They keep trying. They have the bruised arms and skun-up knees to prove it. Yes, I am a proud mama.

Go Lady Elks! You Got This!

Love,
Dianne

It's Okay Not To Be Right

I am getting ready to head to bed.

Ephesians Chapter 4:26-27
“In your anger do not sin”; Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.

I know, the sun is already down, but I am going to take it more as "do not go to sleep while I am still angry".  Well, maybe not angry, but more like "there is a wall of misunderstanding and hurt feelings that needs to come down". 

It all started with a car. A little black Honda. An older car that has had some work done to it, but other than the little blurb in my work Classifieds, I didn't know much more. I sent the information to Leo and to Amy, who is soon going to be an official driver and in need of wheels.

I am the first person to admit that I don't know much about cars. I care more about how it looks, the color and if it has a decent radio/CD player. Leo cares more about the other stuff that I am clueless about. Suspension. Exhaust systems. Aluminum do-hickeys.

So I don't know why I was so insulted when he questioned the character of the car, why I was offended that he wanted Amy to be careful and not jump at it just because the price seemed right. I think I felt like because it was a car I picked as a potential for Amy, and not him, it didn't count. That I was stupid to even suggest it.

My feelings got hurt. Sigh.

We didn't really argue. He heard me tell Amy that "I don't know why Dad doesn't want to look at it" and so he just came downstairs to explain why. I tried to explain back why I felt that his assumption that the car would be decked out in lime-green wheels and painted in primer, belonging to an irresponsible teenager made me feel like I couldn't contribute to the "Car Search for Amy" thus ultimately saying I was stupid when it came to cars.

*Note that he didn't say I was stupid, I did.
*Note that he told me to go look at it, but to remember how short on time we are the next two weeks as the wedding draws close.
*Note that he didn't roll his eyes, smirk, or gesture at me behind my back.
*He simply was making some valid points, and since he knows cars, they truly were valid points.

Sometimes I just need to listen. I am not always right. It's okay to not always be proving a point, to prove that I am right. Will I ever learn?  He was making sense, and this time, he was right.
So, even though we didn't technically shout, get insulting, pull hair and bite, I need to go let Leo know that I love him, that I'm listening to his opinion and that it matters. He matters.

And really, for right now, that's all that matters.

Love,
Dianne

13 More Days for Aaron & Lisa-Anna

Sunday afternoon.

My parents came for lunch.

(Thanks for making a huge pan of lasagna, Mom!)

My youngsters were all here too. 

We really need a table with extensions.

I will say that piano benches come in handy at times like these. 

So, why the gathering today?

Well, it seems we have a wedding in about 2 weeks, and projects to complete.

Bring on the sandpaper...

…and bring on the paint. 

We have some favors; they're going to look quaint. 

(For more info, see Lisa-Anna's blog at  http://lisaanna1.typepad.com/blog/)

 Of course, my boys had to take a break. They played volleyball over the clothesline.  Actually, it wasn't really a break, since it occurred before Aaron helped.

But he did help. He got one or two painted. 

She got, oh, like sixty-two painted. 

I worked on an idea we have for the appetizers. 

I decided that spray paint and I do not get along well. 

Then, because creativity gives us energy, 

we took Shakespeare for a walk. 

And practiced sitting. 

Aren't they cute? 

13 more days. 

Just 13 more days. 

Love,
Dianne, the almost Mother-in-Law :)

Blessed in Spite of Myself

If I have to get up early for work, for a meeting, a class, anything, I stress about it. I worry that I won't get up on time, then I check the alarm clock 62 times to make sure I set it for AM and not PM. Yesterday, I should have also checked the calendar. 

The alarm went off at 4:40 AM. I whined a little, then slid ungracefully out of bed. I got dressed, made a yogurt parfait for breakfast, and set my sights on Johnstown. I had a computer class for work that I had been reminding myself of all week because I was afraid I'd forget to go. 

I stopped at the Coffee Bean for a coffee, made my way up to the 5th floor and when I walked in, everyone looked at me like I was an apparition. I know I'm not usually a daylight person, but I didn't think I looked that bad. Well, it turns out that I was not supposed to be there yesterday. At all. The computer class? Next Thursday. 

You watch, I'll forget. 

Leaving work…the long way around.

Spending an hour doing other required education made me feel a little bit better about driving 50 miles for no reason. Then I left and headed towards a friends house who lives over that way. This day would not be for nothing. 

You see, when I make a mistake, God can take even that and turn it into something good. If I let Him. My attitude could have been angry and I could've grumbled about it all day. Poor me. But I chose not to. 

Instead, this is what I did:

Still leaving work, but pausing to sip my coffee...

 …and smell the roses...

…and then I listened to a little George Donaldson "The World in My Mind"….

…but I had to pause to take a picture of a building "Beka House" that I have always liked, but never took the time (because I had no time) to stop and take a picture. Until today.

I arrived at my friend's house. Excited, because we don't always have the opportunity to get together.
A day to chat, just because.

 We sat on the front porch. I enjoyed the view; moonflowers wound effortlessly around the posts and dragonflies flitted about. I enjoyed the company of a dear friend even more. I am encouraged. I am blessed.

 And then there's this almost two-year-old little guy that just makes me smile. He is definitely worth the 50 mile trip.

He showed me the 4-wheeler, the mud puddles, the bulldozer, the grandaddy long-legs, the earwigs, the broccoli in the garden (as he picked the small florets and stuffed them into his mouth!), his book with colors, the pumpkins...

My friend, in her secret garden. Love the garden, love her.

We dropped the little guy off at his Grandma's, just up the road, and there I was delighted with her collection of tins. I would've never been able to enjoy this if I hadn't mixed up my days. Isn't God good?

After some more time covering too many topics in too little time, we prayed together and my spirit was uplifted before I now turned my car towards home. I may have driven into a brewing storm, but it was all good.

I was home now.
And Shakespeare greeted me with a song. He does a very good rendition of Madame Butterfly.
A little awkward perhaps, but still quite good.

Love,

Dianne

A Spider's Web

What a beautiful late summer morning. The air has just the right balance of warmth and coolness, the birds are keeping their communication at a pleasant decibel, and the breeze stirring up the leaves promises to be refreshing.

I got up this morning, dragging myself down the stairs (which is still better than falling, by the way), took Ryan up to the bus, then decided not to go curl up on the couch (which was tempting). Mornings really are not a bad time of the day when one is awake to enjoy them.

Getting the oatmeal started on the stovetop, I headed upstairs to help Adrienne with something, then gathered my glasses, my laptop and…what am I forgetting?

Oh dear, the oatmeal. On the stove. Cooking. Well, make that starting to burn. I salvaged what I could, being very careful not to scrape the bottom of the pan. Then cutting up a banana into it, I added cinnamon, peanut butter and a splash of almond milk. Now, I gathered the laptop, the oatmeal and a cup of pumpkin coffee and went to the porch.

I was greeted by this.

Now, don't get me wrong. I appreciate spiders. I do.
When they are outside, in their own space. Not mine.
This one, which I never did see, but imagined was large, hairy and inevitably black, was in my space.
The web literally went from the edge of one window to the middle of another window, with sticky strands attached to my plant, my candle holder, a framed picture, and my chair.

 Not a typical web with distinct strands in a traditional spiderweb shape, but a tangled mass of random sticky threads that brought to mind Shelob from Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. I decided I wasn't giving in to this spider. I sat on the porch, ummm, just not in my normal spot, now swaddled in fine filaments of web.

I really need to clear the web away, but I am wondering what good it will do, if the source of the web is still out there. Somewhere. Even as I sit here, I feel itchy, wondering where she is. On my leg? On my head? My shoulder? Adrienne came out to join me, sitting in the web festooned chair until I told her to look to her right. She shuddered, shrieked and promptly removed herself.

Still, I remain. Spider or no spider, I am going to enjoy today, because it is a gift. As for "Shelob", she can have another day on the porch, on my chair. I am feeling gracious.

Love,
Dianne