A Pair of Boots

Boots.
I am thankful for boots.

When I was in middle school, during those awkward adolescent school years, I wanted a pair of boots that were cool. I wanted my feet warm, but the boot itself had to be cool.

1980's cool.

What I really wanted was a pair of tall, brown leather boots that would blend seamlessly with a wool plaid skirt and a matching sweater. I could picture it. I had a cousin, Sheila, who dressed like that and she was way cool.  

I could see myself wearing that skirt. Even now. And those boots? Yeah, I could wear them too. Except for the heels. Back in the 80's I would've done the heels (or at least tried!), but now, I am a little more practical.

That was my dream. 

My reality? Well, with three girls to outfit for the winter on a farmer's salary, the best solution was practicality and function, not beauty. I don't think we ever bought the actual brand of Moon Boots, but a generic version would "do just fine." And although they were warm and oh-so-functional, they weren't what this girl pictured wearing all day in school, with a dress. And they couldn't cost more than $15.00 and that was that. 

I knew it shouldn't be all about style and trend. I knew it shouldn't be about who I wanted to impress with my fashion sense, but I made it so. I hated these practical, boring boots that made me look, in my mind, very mundane. Boring. Blah. And to be honest, I wasn't so sure I liked that.

 I am not always proud of the way I thought about things in those days. And really, to stand out in the snow, awaiting the bus, with wimpy boots would have been asking for trouble. Cold feet. Pneumonia. But, I was proud. Too proud. And many days I would abandon the boots and wear regular shoes and after sliding down the driveway to the bus, often trying to keep my skirt from whipping up in my face,  all the while with everyone looking, I would be kinda ready to admit that wearing the boots might have been a good idea.

Fast forward 30 years.

I am thankful that I had parents who wanted to keep me and my sisters warm in the winter.
I am thankful that every year they let us get new boots.
I am thankful that they taught us the value of a dollar and that spending more for something doesn't always mean it was the best choice.
I am thankful for all 10 toes that survived frostbite thanks to those boots.

Thanksgiving is today. I am thankful for so much more than boots, but as I head out with my girls to take advantage of some sales, boots are on the list x3. We may even be able to keep it around $15 a pair. But even if we don't, I am thankful for some time to spend with my girls.

As I looked to try to find the perfect quote, the perfect verse to go with today, I couldn't.
All that comes to mind is "Give thanks with a grateful heart." 
Whether it is for the abundant feast we had today, the time spent with my loved ones, the warm house or a pair of boots, I want to be thankful with a heart that is bowed before the God that provides and cares for me.

Love,
Dianne

Sunday Cracker Pudding

~Sunday dinner~ 

Pork roast

Mashed potatoes

Mixed vegetables

Coleslaw

& 

Cracker Pudding

Ah yes, Cracker Pudding. 

It sounds odd. 

But it is delicious. 

Consisting of a homemade vanilla custard (made as only Leo can make it) and then mixed with whipped topping, graham crackers and bananas, it says Sunday afternoon like no other.

It may say Sunday, but it all starts on a Saturday night, with a batch of what we used to call Cornstarch Pudding at my house, Bri at his house. I honestly don't know what "Bri" means or if it is a Pennsylvania Dutch word, but it does sound better than saying, "Oh, we had cornstarch pudding for supper." Basically, it's milk, eggs, sugar and vanilla with a thickener added to make it pudding. Don't ask for a recipe because when Leo makes it, he just puts ingredients in the saucepan and that's that. I don't make it because, well, I don't have a recipe. (That gives you some insight into us as a couple doesn't it?)

I remember having to stir it forever until it got hot, so it wouldn't burn and then the second it began to boil up, the milk rising to the top of the pot, you would quickly stir in the mixture to thicken it. Often it would boil over for me. Still does.

Milk on a hot burner does not smell good.

Once hot, thick and with bubbles that pop oh-so-slowly, it's ready. Add some brown sugar right in the center and then stir it in, leaving golden brown swirls in it's wake. Mmmmmm.

Then, because you make enough for leftovers, put it in the fridge overnight so it's good and cold the next day. Sunday. Mix it all up with the ingredients that you have on hand and have warned everyone not to eat. (Bananas don't always last for long at my house!) Serve with your Sunday dinner. And later in the afternoon.

And that's that.


Love,
Dianne

339 Boxes

Operation Christmas Child

http://www.samaritanspurse.org/what-we-do/operation-christmas-child/

1 Friend with a passion for ministry

+

More friends who caught the vision

+

140 miles in our car to get to her church 

=

An afternoon spent packing shoeboxes for kids to be sent all over the world.

(Make that over 100 million sent since 1993!)

Oh did I forget to add in 400 miscellaneous stuffed buddies?

And did I also forgot to add in:

Piles of pencils,

cartloads of crayons,

totes of toothbrushes,

sacks of soap,

crocks of candy,

and tubs of toys?

We were ready.

The boxes and the children who would receive them were prayed for.

It was 3:00pm.

Let the packing begin!

It was fun deciding "boy or girl" and what age group. 

Ryan wouldn't tell me after the first few boxes that he did because:

1.) He didn't want supervised so closely by mom.

2.) He thought I was trying to copy him. 

3.) I think Leo and him were racing and I was slowing him down. 

I think he had fun. 

He even wrote a note for each box that he did. 

Well, he had fun after I put my phone back in my pocket.

"Mom!!" 

(Said in a long drawn out way that makes "mom" have 3 or more syllables.)

"Stop it."

Yep, I think he means business. 

He is serious about this shoebox packing business. 

He's right. 

At 5:00pm, we were done.

There, packed in Good Samaritan boxes, ready to roll out the door

were 339 shoeboxes. 

Maybe not 100 million, but 339 more than yesterday. 

Love,

Dianne

The Laundromat: My Friend

I am sitting in the low light of Japanese Lanterns, the scent of a Spice Cake candle lingering in the air as I sip a hot coffee, munch on popcorn and enjoy the evening on the porch. I don't know what the weather holds for the future, but as my enclosed porch is not heated, I am going to enjoy this space whilst I can. 

Because, inside the house, waiting for me is a carload of laundry waiting to be folded and put neatly away. Today, while the sun was shining, I was at the laundromat doing 5 Double Loads and 2 Giant Loads of laundry. And that wasn't even all of it. 

This is your destiny when your washing machine decides that it is finished. 

The Neptune and I? No longer are we friends. 

I had both front and back seats packed with baskets of dirty towels, socks, shirts and pants, blankets and sheets. I took $20 in quarters, something to read, something to drink, and an apple. 

I felt like I should be reading Corduroy. You know, the book about the little bear with bib overalls and his little girl Lisa? In the second book, A Pocket for Corduroy, he gets tossed in the washing machine after getting mixed in with someone else's laundry and then….no, I don't want to spoil the ending for you, just in case you've never read it.

 Ahh, the machine's are humming and I am taking advantage of the time here to catch up on some reading. This is kinda fun and I like getting it all done at once. If only I didn't have to look at the piles piling up at the house all week. And if this place would have recliners that would be even better.
However, it's actually a rather nice laundromat, as laundromats go that is.

I started around 10:00 unloading my car, which I had parked across the street. I carried those baskets in, one at a time, and wondered why on earth I had parked where I did. I racked up 1/2 mile on the pedometer though.

I thought I was finished at about 11:15 but then I realized that I washed one load without any detergent.
Now that won't do. Sigh. I put in another $2.50 in quarters and read another chapter or two.

The laundromat and I? Friends.
Take that Neptune.

 Once the machines were silent once more, I reloaded the baskets, took them back out to the car (much heavier this time!) and took the damp clothes home to await their turns either on the line, in the dryer, hanging on the clothes rack, or draped on the warm radiators.

And me? I am on the porch, thankful for small town laundromats and the smell of fresh clothes. 

I know my baby is 10 years old, but tonight I'm going to see if he'll let me read to him. I think Corduroy needs to come off the shelf one more time. 

Love,

Dianne

Whine and Dine

Sometimes I just want to complain.
About things like having to run back out to the school to turn in something I've forgotten.

Or needing to purchase another washing machine because ours has washed it's last load and the laundry is knee-deep.

I even complain that I need to lose weight.

Or that I don't know what to make for supper (which obviously isn't too much of a problem if I think I need to lose weight).

Complain.
Whine.
Grumble.

But then I stop. I have to stop.
I have my home.
I have children in a school that is a good one.
I have a full tank of gas in my car to run me to the school.
I have clothes that may need washed, but I have clothes.
I have more than enough food to eat, and a variety of food at that.
(When I complain, it should be called "Whine and Dine")
I am not starving.
Really, I lack for nothing. Not really.

I may think that life is hard. And don't get me wrong, sometimes it is very hard. But when I turn my heart and my head towards being thankful, I realize how blessed, how truly blessed I am.

I find myself thinking about those who lost everything in the Philippines, about those who are fighting to be able to worship God just one more day, for the children who weep because no one loves them, and for the many that live as slaves. I know that November makes us all reflect a little more on thankfulness, but I need to remember every single day. 

I am blessed. Very blessed. Maybe not in wealth, or even always the best of health, but I am filled in abundance with the peace that only God can give. I am rich in the love of my husband and children. I am saved by the grace that abounds. I lack for nothing and when I am discontent and ungrateful, it is because I've allowed my heart to wander.

But today, I am anchoring my heart in place, to a place of thankfulness. When I open my eyes in the morning I need to say a praise of thanks to God, not a curse that another day is upon me with work and weariness. I've said it before, but I'll say it again.

"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." ~Psalms 118:24

I have a choice. I choose to be thankful. And if I start to grumble, to complain, to whine? Remind me of all that I have been blessed with. That includes you.

And now, what to make for supper? Time to Wine and Dine. Thank You God!

Love,
Dianne

Goodwill is Just The Thing

Sometimes a trip to Goodwill is "just the thing".

"Just the thing" to do to have a little fun with your daughter. 

Of course, it helps if she tries clothing on. 

Like, oh let's say, a jacket. 

A really cute jacket. 

She even agreed.

Then, this happened:

Oh great…now what do we do?

Break the zipper completely? 

Oh no, let's work it down to the bottom instead. 

Tooth by tooth by tooth.

Painstakingly slowly.

Oh, but it was funny.

At least Mama thought it was funny. 

Now now Amy, you know you want to laugh. 

Then, finally, amidst bursts of snorted laughter and giggles

(as we tried to look inconspicuous),

the zipper came free and thus Amy was freed from the jacket.

And then she says, "Can we still get it?" 

"Can we still get it?'

Seriously.

I liked the jacket first, before her. 

Not anymore. 

She bought a dress, a skirt and something else (I forget).

But no jacket. Not today.

Yes, sometimes a trip to Goodwill is just the thing. 

Love,

Dianne

Happy Birthday to my Firstborn Chick

Yesterday my eldest child turned 22. Not one of those momentous birthdays, like turning 16, 18 or 21, but a day to be celebrated nonetheless. Yesterday, as an adult she still needed to go to work, go to college, put gas in her car, and pay her bills. Maybe she started to wonder what was so special about getting older anyhow. Why all the fuss to grow up when all that happens is that birthdays just mean you have to do all the not-so-fun grownup things.

Or does it?

In our family, we try to make a special dinner; one that the birthday person chooses. In years past, on Adrienne's day, we have had jambalaya, sausage and sauerkraut, and take-out pizza. This year the menu was:

~Homemade Pizza~

~toppings include Italian sausage, mushrooms, peppers, mushrooms, zucchini, ham, pineapple~

~Chocolate Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting~

~Strawberry Ice-Cream~

~Ice-Tea~

I can't say it was particulary healthy and I don't know if it covered any food pyramid, but we didn't care. This menu was to celebrate the one-and-only Adrienne aka "Wootsie" Maust. 

Blowing out the candle, take 2. 

Amy, finding it quite entertaining that she blew the
candle out first, before Adrienne. 

 It's been a good year, this year of going from 21 to 22. Here's a glimpse of the many faces of this wonderful chick of mine...

The Silly...

 The Absolutely Stunning...

The Beautiful...

The Kind Teacher...

The Professional...

The Big Sister...

 The Proud...

 The Hungry...

The "Oh-No I did it again"

 

The Crazy…don't know where she gets it from...

Ah, yes that's my Wootsie. 

Happy Birthday dear girl. 

This next coming year?

Full of promise. 

Full of grace.

Full of you and your smiling, albeit at times quite silly, face. 

I love you. 

Love,

Dianne aka Mama to this Sweet Girl

Being A Mother-In-Law, umm Love

Yesterday my daughter-in-law Lisa-Anna and I made plans to go to a local antique boutique. Located in an upstairs room of Blue Moon Antiques, it was a treasure room of vintage apparel that the owner has collected since she was 11 years old. I believe she is a kindred spirit. 

(By the way, this is not the owner)

As I pulled into Aaron and Lisa-Anna's driveway I had the oddest sensation. I-Am-The-Mother-In-Law. 

I mean, I knew it before , but it was just this feeling of wondering if this is how my mom feels when she pulls into my driveway. It really got me thinking about this role and what it means. 

First, I brought the sweet couple a few scones (Pumpkin Scones with a Maple Pumpkin Glaze) to enjoy.

This was not because I don't think her cooking (or his for that matter) is "good enough", but because I just wanted to share. She actually bakes more than me as evidenced by the freshly baked, still steaming, apple pie on their stove. 

Rule #1: Recognize the awesome cook that your daughter-in-law is. She has her own style, her own flair and does not need my advice on cooking. Unless she asks. 

She apologized that her house was messy. 

Rule #2: Never comment that their house is messy, because it really doesn't matter. She has seen my house at its less-than-finest. Okay, okay, it was a total pigsty and she had to wallow through it. So, her housekeeping skills are not in question. At all. 

Getting in the car, we went the few miles to Blue Moon Antiques. After browsing through the elaborate wardrobes, vintage dinnerware, fainting couches, and coffee mills we went upstairs. Met by flapper hats, beaded and flowered, white gowns reminiscent of Anne of Green Gables, and dresses that every housewife of the 1950's would have coveted mixed in with long elegant gloves and dainty evening bags…..ah, it was wonderful. 

Rule #3: Be thankful for the fun moments shared with the ones we love. And that definitely includes this new daughter of mine. Be prepared to sometimes just have random-ish moments just simply because. 

Rule #4: No matter what she chooses to wear, never imply that she should dress more like yourself. She is unique. Especially in a Granny Square Sweater. So much color. So much interesting. 

I prefer the vintage, but slightly boring, dress. Where is that 1950's girdle when I need it?
We found one dress and it's owner had a waist that measured 24-26 inches. Like mine was. When I was 8. And the kilt Amy tried on? Let's just say that the lassie that wore it had a waist about the size of Ryan's.

 Rule #5: Have fun and spend time with the newest addition to your family, but give them the space they need to become their own family unit too. 

Rule #6: Be available to give guidance and advice if needed.

Rule #7: Say "Thank You"and "I love you"  and never just assume that they know how thankful you are for them and what they mean to you. 

Lisa-Anna,
Yeah, I'm the "Mother-in-Law" but as a friend of mine likes to say, and I prefer, let's go with "Mother-in-Love" instead. I don't have this all figured out, but I am thankful that we were friends long before the proposal. I don't want to be over-the-top in giving advice or the opposite in never saying anything at all.  I, along with Leo, support you and Aaron 100% and you are welcome in our home anytime. Don't knock, just come on in. That's something I know I loved about my own Mom-in-Law. I could drop in anytime and I knew I was always welcome. And I never needed to knock. So, as we continue to transition into this role, I may make mistakes and I may hurt feelings. I hope not, but if it happens let's figure it out. Because in the end, I believe we are kindred spirits too.

Love,
Dianne