From Noxious to Nostalgic

Walking out from workplace the other night I inhaled the nighttime air deeply. With the beginnings of   Autumn peeking about, the smell of crunchy leaves and drying corn is just to hard to resist. I reached my car, pulled open the door and dropped into my seat with another deep inhalation, more of a "I'm headed home!" kind-of-a sigh.

I nearly gagged.

Closing my door, I quickly checked the bottoms of my shoes. I must have stepped in dog poop. Or cat poop.  Maybe a dead bird....Nope, all clear on the shoes. What on earth was causing this wretched, eye-watering stench? Ugh.

I popped open my door again and looked on the ground. Nothing.
I checked my shoes again. Nothing.
I closed the door. This time, no deep inhalations. I tried to only breath through my mouth.
I couldn't stay sitting here; I might as well start the drive home.

As I drove, I kept trying to identify the offensive odor.
Was it the garlicky bag of chips that I'd stashed under the passenger side sun visor?
No, I had eaten those and thrown the bag away.
Did Ryan leave a half-eaten sandwich under my seat? I pulled over and checked. Nothing.
This was going to  drive me crazy!

Okay now: think! It was fine, just fine, this morning when I drove to work. So, did an animal crawl into my car, under the hood during the day and die? It just didn't make sense. All I knew was that I was headed to Wal-Mart and I needed to get an air freshener along with the other groceries we needed.

My shopping done, I headed back to the Stinky Car. A lot of times I just toss the purchased items into my back seat but this time I popped the trunk. When I did, an almost visible wave of stench waved from my sun-heated trunk.

I nearly gagged. Again.

There, on its side was a yellow gallon jug of milk from two or three days ago. It didn't explode exactly, but no longer able to contain its contents, it leaked about a half gallon of sour, spoiled, rotten, foul (you get the idea) milk into my trunk. The rest of the milk was one lump of a curdled mass and I really hoped that wasn't what Little Miss Muffet was eating when the spider sat down beside her.

I am not sure if knowing the cause of the smell made it better or worse. I have memories of my best friend's family car when we were kids; someone had spilled milk in it and the smell seemed to linger for years. That actually was a nice thought because I always liked going home with her in her car so in that sense I kept thinking the noxious aroma I was being assaulted with now might actually fade to a nostalgic remembrance in years to come.

In another sense though, this was like a black cloud of stink that no matter where I went in my car, I couldn't escape. You know, like how you can get away when you drive by a roadkill skunk or a farmer's field with freshly spread manure. You have a minute or so of stench that makes your nose wrinkle and your throat clench but then, it's done. You drive on.

When I finally got home I promptly evacuated and ran into the house and grabbed a box of baking soda. You know, to absorb the smell. Especially since I completely forgot to purchase air freshener when I was at the store.

The smell must have burned a few of my common sense receptors.

Love,
Dianne

Doing the Happy, Sad, Proud, Nostalgic Dance

The last couple of days have been happy, proud, a little sad, and a bit nostalgic, full of emotional ranges that in some ways I can't even express. One minute I am on the very brink of tears that aren't completely sad and not completely happy either; then the next minute I am smiling and the tears have gone back into hiding. That is, until the next minute rolls around.

All summer this family has been gearing up to send Amy to REACH, an outreach program that involves three months of Discipleship Training and then six months in Thailand. I am proud of the choices Amy has made and my heart beats in peace with every step she takes. She is in God's hands and I do rest in that.

That does not mean that my heart isn't just a little sad. The apron strings are slipping and with each knot that comes undone, another of my little chicks is venturing further from the nest. And I mean, Grantsville and Salisbury is one thing, but Thailand is quite another. I have to spin the globe to see where she she will be.

And then there are these two: Heather and Ryan. 

Today was their first day back to school. 

Heather is a Junior and in October can get her official I-can-drive-alone Driver's License. 

Ryan is in the 6th grade; his class is starting to switch a few classes 

in preparation for high school next year. 

And there is only two of them. Not five. Sniffle, sob. 

Happy, sad, proud, nostalgic. 

For the record: I did not pick out anybody's First-Day-of-School outfit. 

Sometimes when they look back at years past, I hear comments on their attire. 

"My shorts were so short". (Aaron)

"We look sooooo 90's." (my girls)

"Oh my goodness! Look what we were wearing!! Gasp!" (all of them)

Ryan's sandal things with socks. That was all him. 

(Someday when he looks back and wonders "WHY??" I will have it in writing.)

I told them to look like how they really feel about going to school. 

I got this: 

Then I said, "Okay now, show me how you are going to look going into the school." 

I got this: 

Yes, my house is going to be quiet today until about 1:30pm (it was a half-day). 

I'd walked up the driveway with the two of them. 

We'd taken the required pictures. 

We'd paused and said a prayer for the day. 

Then they saw the bus and would I please, please, please be headed back down the driveway before the bus actually got to our driveway because they are in 11th and 6th grade and 

really, really, really don't need their mom to walk them to meet the bus. 

So I smiled at them and briefly considered ways to embarrass them. 

But in the end, I turned down the driveway towards the house,

 but I couldn't resist just one more picture of them with the bus. 

Happy, sad, proud and nostalgic. 

Happy: My kids are healthy and independent. They do crazy things like wear socks with sandals and tell me jokes like this one: "Where does the President keep his armies?.....In his sleevies." 

Sad: My kids are independent and don't always need their mom. 

One by one they are leaving the nest. 

It is how it is supposed to be but it still makes me a little sad. 

(I'd probably be really sad if they all just decided to never move out. Ever.)

Proud: They are growing up and want to serve God. They are best friends, teachers, and missionaries. They take care of the ones God has placed into their lives. 

Nostalgic: I miss piggy-tailed hair, primary colored backpacks and elementary art projects. 

90's clothes were cool. You know it. 

Like my kids. 

Cool. 

Goodbye. 

See ya later alligator.

In a while crocodile.

See you soon baboon. 

Love, Dianne