The hubs and I had the opportunity to go out to dinner this past Saturday night, something that doesn't happen too often and was as a result of several events that have nothing to do with anything. So, I'm saving that information and will just get right to the point. (Isn't that nice of me?)
We decided to try a Mexican restaurant that we had never been to before. To say the atmosphere was colorful is to abuse the word. Every inch of the dining room was covered in the most brightly colored paint I've ever seen. The depictions of people and animals and various landscapes were everywhere we looked. I was grateful for the crappy corner booth where I sat facing the hubs against the back wall or I would never have been able to focus my attention long enough to hold a conversation. I would say it would have distracted me from eating, but it would have had to have been much worse than it was to actually do THAT!
While we were filling up on chips and salsa, the hubs (since he was the only one who could see) noted, "How many people working here are white?"
I peered out of the booth, "None. They are usually all Mexican."
"Uh huh, and how many Mexican people are eating here?"
"Uh...none, they're all white."
"Interesting. What does that tell ya?"
Well, it tells me that 1) we should probably be careful how we refer to people of Latin origins while being served food and drinks by the same people, and 2) that quite possibly the food we think is "authentic Mexican" isn't really anywhere close. That, or the kitchens of their wives, mothers, and grandmothers still serve better food Or, ironically, they don't eat Mexican food when they eat out.
I have no idea what the reason for this "truism" is, but it's true every where we eat Mexican food here. Regardless, I told the hubs, "now that's something to write about." So, I did.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Confession...
I've recently confessed an addiction. No, it isn't alcohol or drugs. No, it isn't sex (just ask the hubs!) or anything quite that shocking. "Hi, my name is Little Spot, and I've been addicted to sugar for, well, most of my adult life." Recently, I have been addicted to one source of sugar in particular: peanut butter M&Ms. I was buying the medium and large size bulk bags to keep in my desk at work. When I started eating what is probably the equivalent of 2 or 3 of the small check-out lane packs PER DAY, I realized I had a problem. And, it was a problem I needed to resolve. My bathroom scale was starting to show me exactly how big this issue (& my thighs/butt) had become.
So, now I can say, "Hi, my name is Little Spot, and I've been peanut butter M&M free for 5 days." Notice I didn't say sugar free, just M&M free. I'm crazy, not stupid. If I were to quit sugar completely and cold turkey, I would probably find a bell tower or road rage someone off the highway. Not good. So, I'm just taking it one step at a time.
I recently confessed this addiction to the one member of my family who probably has the least ability to understand how addictive sugar can be as she eats almost no sugar at all. She doesn't like cookies or cake. She doesn't eat ice cream or even use syrup on her pancakes. Truly, I don't get her as much as she probably doesn't get my problem with sugar. The good news is that my confession to myself led me to confess to her which has also led me to confess in writing. I'm now much more accountable, which I guess is part of the point of joining a 12-step program for something like alcoholism.
Today I went to the grocery and had to walk past the candy because it was literally across the aisle from the granola I wanted to purchase. Score one for me! I didn't even make eye contact.
But, I confess, I really, really wanted to.
So, now I can say, "Hi, my name is Little Spot, and I've been peanut butter M&M free for 5 days." Notice I didn't say sugar free, just M&M free. I'm crazy, not stupid. If I were to quit sugar completely and cold turkey, I would probably find a bell tower or road rage someone off the highway. Not good. So, I'm just taking it one step at a time.
I recently confessed this addiction to the one member of my family who probably has the least ability to understand how addictive sugar can be as she eats almost no sugar at all. She doesn't like cookies or cake. She doesn't eat ice cream or even use syrup on her pancakes. Truly, I don't get her as much as she probably doesn't get my problem with sugar. The good news is that my confession to myself led me to confess to her which has also led me to confess in writing. I'm now much more accountable, which I guess is part of the point of joining a 12-step program for something like alcoholism.
Today I went to the grocery and had to walk past the candy because it was literally across the aisle from the granola I wanted to purchase. Score one for me! I didn't even make eye contact.
But, I confess, I really, really wanted to.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Thoughts About Grandad
My wonderful grandad passed away on Friday, January 27, 2012. He was 98 years old and had lived a long, full life. He was loved and will be missed by many. I'm writing this rather fresh from returning back to "normal" life after attending his funeral yesterday. After my grandma passed on September 12, 2011, it became crystal clear to me that her husband of 71 years would not live long after her. No. He wasn't sick, nor had he been at that point. A year ago he had been in great health for a man of 97 and didn't take a single pill, not even an aspirin. He walked daily and for distances that would have been hard for others younger than he. But, after the love of his life had a stroke, became bedridden, and then passed from this life, the light went out of his eyes. He had clearly decided that he also no longer needed or wanted to be on this earth. His purpose here had been fulfilled, and his health and mind quickly deteriorated.
As I listened to the men chosen to eulogize my grandad speak yesterday, something particularly important (at least to me) came to mind that I just can't shake. Hence, I need to write about it. They spoke about him as the preacher and man of God that he was and challenged everyone listening to examine their own hearts and lives. The messages were accurate, well-spoken, and moved most everyone to tears. My grandad WAS a man of God. He was never embarrassed of the Gospel of Christ and was only too happy to share the reason for his hope with any willing (or unwilling) ear. He loved his wife, he loved his family, and he certainly loved God. He had been a tireless warrior for the Gospel for almost 60 years.
I say all this because I mean no disrespect to my grandad or to anyone who knew and loved him or to the men who said such poignant and true things about him with the next few sentences. I'm just not sure that they knew what he was like BEFORE he became all of those things they spoke about. There was a time when my grandad did not live a Christian life. He drank to drunkenness and chased women as a younger man, a fact my grandmother and father have both verified in the past. I remember my grandma talking about how early in their marriage she prayed to have a Christian marriage and home and that my grandad would change his ways. I also remember my dad's story about how he remembered my grandpa throwing all his beer bottles against a hill in southern Indiana and his promise to never drink again. He didn't become a Christian until he was about 40, but when he made his decision for Christ, it changed his life in more ways than I think my grandad, grandma, or their young sons could ever have conceived at the time. He left more lucrative employment to study the Bible and become a preacher of God's word. The man who had fancy suits, nice watches, and several polished pairs of shoes gave it all up for service to the Lord. Their lives were not the same again.
So, while all that was said about Grandad was true, they sort of missed a big point: the power of the Gospel of Christ is TRANSFORMATIVE! It changed my grandad, it has changed me, and it can change anyone willing to let Him into their hearts!
The run-about dandy became a Christian and gave it all up for the riches of heaven. At the time of his death, my grandad was more likely to be wearing a belt held together with staples in the back and slippers patched with duct tape than he was a new suit. Christ changed his heart and changed his life, the future of our family, and the lives of the countless others he came into contact with for the next 60 years. Grandad gave up the quest for material things and worldly living long ago in exchange for a quest for heaven. His quest is now complete.
As I listened to the men chosen to eulogize my grandad speak yesterday, something particularly important (at least to me) came to mind that I just can't shake. Hence, I need to write about it. They spoke about him as the preacher and man of God that he was and challenged everyone listening to examine their own hearts and lives. The messages were accurate, well-spoken, and moved most everyone to tears. My grandad WAS a man of God. He was never embarrassed of the Gospel of Christ and was only too happy to share the reason for his hope with any willing (or unwilling) ear. He loved his wife, he loved his family, and he certainly loved God. He had been a tireless warrior for the Gospel for almost 60 years.
I say all this because I mean no disrespect to my grandad or to anyone who knew and loved him or to the men who said such poignant and true things about him with the next few sentences. I'm just not sure that they knew what he was like BEFORE he became all of those things they spoke about. There was a time when my grandad did not live a Christian life. He drank to drunkenness and chased women as a younger man, a fact my grandmother and father have both verified in the past. I remember my grandma talking about how early in their marriage she prayed to have a Christian marriage and home and that my grandad would change his ways. I also remember my dad's story about how he remembered my grandpa throwing all his beer bottles against a hill in southern Indiana and his promise to never drink again. He didn't become a Christian until he was about 40, but when he made his decision for Christ, it changed his life in more ways than I think my grandad, grandma, or their young sons could ever have conceived at the time. He left more lucrative employment to study the Bible and become a preacher of God's word. The man who had fancy suits, nice watches, and several polished pairs of shoes gave it all up for service to the Lord. Their lives were not the same again.
So, while all that was said about Grandad was true, they sort of missed a big point: the power of the Gospel of Christ is TRANSFORMATIVE! It changed my grandad, it has changed me, and it can change anyone willing to let Him into their hearts!
The run-about dandy became a Christian and gave it all up for the riches of heaven. At the time of his death, my grandad was more likely to be wearing a belt held together with staples in the back and slippers patched with duct tape than he was a new suit. Christ changed his heart and changed his life, the future of our family, and the lives of the countless others he came into contact with for the next 60 years. Grandad gave up the quest for material things and worldly living long ago in exchange for a quest for heaven. His quest is now complete.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Loaned My Laptop
A week ago my in-law's computer stopped connecting to the internet. Five days ago I loaned them my laptop. Yesterday I worried about any personal material that might be in my documents. Today, I started to freak out a little...
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Thanksgiving Stuffing
While I did have several helpings of stuffing over the Thanksgiving holiday, it's not that kind of stuffing I have on my mind at present. I am, quite frankly, stuffed with all the family irritations that inevitably seem to show up uninvited at holiday gatherings. Though there was a little frustration with certain members of my own family, it was definitely the hub's family that got to me this year.
We always have dinner on black Friday rather than asking everyone to fit in two Thanksgiving meals on the same day. Maybe my holiday cheer was wearing thin or maybe all the turkey, heavy sides, and desserts had clouded my thinking, but my hub's cousins and their kids really got on my nerves. It was their behavior and attitude that stuffed me to full.
As a parent, I love my kids and think the world of them. They are the best looking, smartest, most talented kids ever created, unless I ask other parents about their kids. As a parent, I try to keep from pushing my kids and their "greatness" on other people. My hub's cousins, however, don't seem to understand that while they think their kids are great, not everyone else feels the same. And they definitely don't not push their kids onto other people.
After dinner and dessert, we received a Sype call from my sister-in-law who lives in South Korea. These three kids (10 and under) attempted to monopolize the computer, mostly to see themselves on the screen, through a variety of goofy antics and yelling techniques that forced me from the room. Who can have a conversation with 3 kids bouncing and yelling? Eventually the parents sent their children away so that some of the adults could talk, which was, after all, the actual point of the call. When I finally got my turn to say hello, their youngest (okay, so she's only like 5, but still) climbed right up in front of me and started being "cute" to entertain. I can understand a child not realizing how rude this was or how annoying, but both parents and a grandparent were in the room and none of them corrected her for interrupting an adult or for being rude and cutting me off mid-sentence. Instead, they reacted quite the opposite. They encouraged her by asking her to tell Aunt C what you learned in school, tell Aunt C what you want for Christmas, tell Aunt C...whatever. It was stupid, rude, and annoying, and I got up and walked out of the room while it was going on. Perhaps my reaction was a bit immature, but after spending a half hour watching videos of their firstborn at 2 hours old, 1 day old, 2 days old during that child's birthday party, I knew they weren't going to interrupt anything that showed everyone, someone, how freaking adorable their youngest child is. It's great that they think their kids are the best, most talented and adorable kids in the world, but WHY DON'T THEY GET IT THAT THE REST OF US DO NOT?!?
I can admit that haboring irritation about this is not the most adult behavior on my part and that I would be better off to let it go. In this case, the only one bothered by this incident seems to be me. So, now that I've gotten it off my plate, maybe I won't be so stuffed from Thanksgiving.
Of course, Christmas is just around the corner.
We always have dinner on black Friday rather than asking everyone to fit in two Thanksgiving meals on the same day. Maybe my holiday cheer was wearing thin or maybe all the turkey, heavy sides, and desserts had clouded my thinking, but my hub's cousins and their kids really got on my nerves. It was their behavior and attitude that stuffed me to full.
As a parent, I love my kids and think the world of them. They are the best looking, smartest, most talented kids ever created, unless I ask other parents about their kids. As a parent, I try to keep from pushing my kids and their "greatness" on other people. My hub's cousins, however, don't seem to understand that while they think their kids are great, not everyone else feels the same. And they definitely don't not push their kids onto other people.
After dinner and dessert, we received a Sype call from my sister-in-law who lives in South Korea. These three kids (10 and under) attempted to monopolize the computer, mostly to see themselves on the screen, through a variety of goofy antics and yelling techniques that forced me from the room. Who can have a conversation with 3 kids bouncing and yelling? Eventually the parents sent their children away so that some of the adults could talk, which was, after all, the actual point of the call. When I finally got my turn to say hello, their youngest (okay, so she's only like 5, but still) climbed right up in front of me and started being "cute" to entertain. I can understand a child not realizing how rude this was or how annoying, but both parents and a grandparent were in the room and none of them corrected her for interrupting an adult or for being rude and cutting me off mid-sentence. Instead, they reacted quite the opposite. They encouraged her by asking her to tell Aunt C what you learned in school, tell Aunt C what you want for Christmas, tell Aunt C...whatever. It was stupid, rude, and annoying, and I got up and walked out of the room while it was going on. Perhaps my reaction was a bit immature, but after spending a half hour watching videos of their firstborn at 2 hours old, 1 day old, 2 days old during that child's birthday party, I knew they weren't going to interrupt anything that showed everyone, someone, how freaking adorable their youngest child is. It's great that they think their kids are the best, most talented and adorable kids in the world, but WHY DON'T THEY GET IT THAT THE REST OF US DO NOT?!?
I can admit that haboring irritation about this is not the most adult behavior on my part and that I would be better off to let it go. In this case, the only one bothered by this incident seems to be me. So, now that I've gotten it off my plate, maybe I won't be so stuffed from Thanksgiving.
Of course, Christmas is just around the corner.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Random stuff
Today is another post out of the usual format. Have you ever been listening to your iPod or other MP3 player and gotten a good laugh at yourself about what comes up during random play? I was driving to work the other morning with my iPod plugged in to the car stereo when the list of songs below came on one after the other. I totally cracked up with the message these songs would sent to most of the people I know:
Guns N Roses - Dust and Bones
Will Smith - Gettin' Jiggy With It
Faster Pussycat - Wake Me When It's Over
Matthew West - Story of Your Life
Skillet - Falling Inside the Black
A few days later, my kids laughed with me at the content of my iPod when "Witch Doctor," the Chipmunks version, that is, came blasting out unexpectedly. I wonder which songs would be most surprising to the people I know? They certainly give clues to my age...
Funny for the day (from my sister who works in customer claims):
Guns N Roses - Dust and Bones
Will Smith - Gettin' Jiggy With It
Faster Pussycat - Wake Me When It's Over
Matthew West - Story of Your Life
Skillet - Falling Inside the Black
A few days later, my kids laughed with me at the content of my iPod when "Witch Doctor," the Chipmunks version, that is, came blasting out unexpectedly. I wonder which songs would be most surprising to the people I know? They certainly give clues to my age...
Funny for the day (from my sister who works in customer claims):
I have a customer that is claiming he is missing a set of balls. Baa ha ha!!!!! I am so easily amused…..
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Not the usual
Well, this is not going to be the usual post where I ramble on about some random topic or event that made me feel compelled to write. While I may ramble, this topic is not remotely random, at least not to me.
My grandmother passed away on September 12, 2011. After having a stroke on August 20, 2011, she was paralyzed on her left side and completely bedridden. While she was still at home, my sister and I made the 3 1/2 hour drive to visit her and our granddad. I was not looking forward to the trip or our time there as I went knowing it would be the last time I saw her alive. Our dad told us to "put on your big girl panties" if we visited, and though I knew it was going to be unpleasant to see her in that state, I was grateful for the warning.
Without going into all of the details (mostly because Mamaw would want to preserve her dignity but also because it's still makes me too sad), I will say that we spent a good part of our day taking care of and changing her as if she were a very young child. She had to be fed and could not chew well, so her meals were smashed watermelon, pudding, creamed corn, broth, anything that could be swallowed easily with little or no chewing. We weren't always sure that she even knew we were in the room or who we were, but about the time we began to doubt her lucidity, she would say something that left us with little doubt.
And that made the day a complete blessing. Though she had difficulty speaking, could not sit up, could not eat easily, or go to the bathroom on her own, she still knew our faces and could tell us that she loved us. Her wonderful response to our answered "I love you too" was "I know." And she did. At one point when we thought she was sleeping, she caught us trying to slip quietly out of the room with a "where do you think you're going?" She even told both of us, at different times during that day, that we had big butts. =^) While most women would be highly offended at that remark, it convinced us both that our mamaw was still there inside that brain. No matter how damaged she was by the stroke, the woman could still tease us and make us laugh.
I didn't want to go that day. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it's the truth. I didn't want to see my grandma that way and was afraid that the memory would be too painful to bear. But, something kept telling me I needed to go, and it turns out that the voice was right. I needed to go, not just for me, but to be support for my sister and to give my dad and uncle a much needed break from the ten days already spent caring for her. However, after being there, I also realized I needed to go for her -- to give her the opportunity to see me and say goodbye without tears but with lots of love and laughter. I will be grateful for as long as I live that the Lord got me there and showed me His presence in a time that could have been nothing but sorrow.
When she passed a few weeks later, we were all ready for her to go, herself included. I still cried then (and now at times), but knowing her faith was in Jesus and that she was ready to be with Him made giving her back to Him so much easier for all of us. My grandfather, her husband of 71 years, never showed a single sign of sadness at the loss of his wife. Not because he didn't love and isn't missing her every minute he's alive but because his trust and faith are also in the Lord. He is 98 years old and has lived many lives during that time. Most of those years were spend with Mamaw and the Lord. A combination it would be hard to top.
It's hard for me to express the beauty I find in the relationship of my grandparents and their relationship with God. They are simple, country folk from southern Indiana who loved each other through good and bad, happy and sad, plenty and lean and through it all, they loved the Lord as well. And now, my grandmother is free of pain and at peace. She's home.
My grandmother passed away on September 12, 2011. After having a stroke on August 20, 2011, she was paralyzed on her left side and completely bedridden. While she was still at home, my sister and I made the 3 1/2 hour drive to visit her and our granddad. I was not looking forward to the trip or our time there as I went knowing it would be the last time I saw her alive. Our dad told us to "put on your big girl panties" if we visited, and though I knew it was going to be unpleasant to see her in that state, I was grateful for the warning.
Without going into all of the details (mostly because Mamaw would want to preserve her dignity but also because it's still makes me too sad), I will say that we spent a good part of our day taking care of and changing her as if she were a very young child. She had to be fed and could not chew well, so her meals were smashed watermelon, pudding, creamed corn, broth, anything that could be swallowed easily with little or no chewing. We weren't always sure that she even knew we were in the room or who we were, but about the time we began to doubt her lucidity, she would say something that left us with little doubt.
And that made the day a complete blessing. Though she had difficulty speaking, could not sit up, could not eat easily, or go to the bathroom on her own, she still knew our faces and could tell us that she loved us. Her wonderful response to our answered "I love you too" was "I know." And she did. At one point when we thought she was sleeping, she caught us trying to slip quietly out of the room with a "where do you think you're going?" She even told both of us, at different times during that day, that we had big butts. =^) While most women would be highly offended at that remark, it convinced us both that our mamaw was still there inside that brain. No matter how damaged she was by the stroke, the woman could still tease us and make us laugh.
I didn't want to go that day. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it's the truth. I didn't want to see my grandma that way and was afraid that the memory would be too painful to bear. But, something kept telling me I needed to go, and it turns out that the voice was right. I needed to go, not just for me, but to be support for my sister and to give my dad and uncle a much needed break from the ten days already spent caring for her. However, after being there, I also realized I needed to go for her -- to give her the opportunity to see me and say goodbye without tears but with lots of love and laughter. I will be grateful for as long as I live that the Lord got me there and showed me His presence in a time that could have been nothing but sorrow.
When she passed a few weeks later, we were all ready for her to go, herself included. I still cried then (and now at times), but knowing her faith was in Jesus and that she was ready to be with Him made giving her back to Him so much easier for all of us. My grandfather, her husband of 71 years, never showed a single sign of sadness at the loss of his wife. Not because he didn't love and isn't missing her every minute he's alive but because his trust and faith are also in the Lord. He is 98 years old and has lived many lives during that time. Most of those years were spend with Mamaw and the Lord. A combination it would be hard to top.
It's hard for me to express the beauty I find in the relationship of my grandparents and their relationship with God. They are simple, country folk from southern Indiana who loved each other through good and bad, happy and sad, plenty and lean and through it all, they loved the Lord as well. And now, my grandmother is free of pain and at peace. She's home.
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