Raking Leaves

My left hand still hurts today. There is a bruise in the skin between my left thumb and first finger from raking leaves the other night. But it's not a bad hurt. It's a good one.

There were just four of us for dinner that night-- Hunk O Man, Bug, Baby and I, and Hunk O Man had a meeting. The other three girls were at a tennis match. So we ate early -- as we never do (we are very european in the way we eat dinner -- as in LATE). By 5:30PM, we were finished, and I went outside.

As Hunk O man left for his meeting, he noticed a rake I'd left by the porch doorway. He asked if someone had been raking, and I answered that yes, as a matter of fact, I had. I had used the rake to put down some mint plants that a friend had dropped by, that I hope will grow around the edge of our covered porch.

So I headed outside with him, and as he left, I grabbed the rake and went at the yard, which was covered in leaves.

It didn't take long before I had a huge pile of leaves, and wondered where I would put them. I decided on the little hillside past the trees, but not so far down as to block the entrance to the shed.

Raking is a mindless business, for the most part. The air was cool, but not cold, and my mind wandered as I heaped huge piles and then proceeded to pull them apart and move them downhill.

I thought about what Hunk O Man would say when he saw the piles of leaves. I could hear him praising my efforts and pointing them out to the girls, who would look at me and ask why I had done it, and I would reply that I wasn't afraid of a little hard work and neither should they be. It would be a wonderful teaching moment and they would respond by raking the entire front yard.
They would remember this all their lives and teach their children about how raking is good for you and generations to come would praise me, the first one who did it, and talk about how a little hard work never hurt anybody.

Uh-huh. I absolutely did think that.

Then I realised that I had been thinking all about me, me, me. I should have been praying for someone else while doing this mindless work! Yes, I should have been doing some other noble thinking task.

So I thought about Constance Marie, for whose daughter I had made some little gaucho pants, and how Constance Marie was so picky about the pockets, and how her daughter had cared less, and Constance Marie should just lighten up; good grief, was I that fixated on the mindless when I was a young mom? And how Constance Marie was going to pay me for making these pants and a few more pairs, and how she'd been so specific about how to make her oldest daughter's -- no poofy pockets or a lot of gathering in the front, please, and how these pants were being made out of my fabric from my stash and the amount she'd proposed to pay me was a little ridiculous, considering it was my fabric and time.

The day was grey, and it seemed like a very long time before it got dark.

And I kept at it. About the time I thought that some of the leaves should go back behind the shed, God got a word in edgewise.

I realised that I shouldn't charge Constance Marie anything at all for the pants. Good grief, had people not been generous enough with me? What about if I just made the pants, gave them to her, and told her that at some point in the future, she'll be called to be generous. So be very generous and remember this, how I am generous to you.

And isn't raking the leaves its own reward, really?

I finished up, and looked over at the side yard by the fence. That needed it, too. I could hear my neighbor talking on the phone in her screened porch.

I thought about why I'd never made a some lemon squares and taken them over to just sit and chat with her.

I thought about how I should call and check in with Myrtle once a week.

I listened a little more. And I made a couple more piles of leaves.

It was finally getting dark. I laughed to myself that neither of the girls had come out to check on me, or just out of curiousity. Not even the dog came to the door and whined to come out with me.

It was just me and God and the leaves. One of those moments of holiness when work and listening collide, and God gets through, and you breathe in the cool air and thank Him that you have a bruise on your hand now from raking. And you say thanks, Lord, for interrupting me and my ridiculously small thinking.

Thank you for lifting my chin and making me look up, Lord. Thank you.

I put the rake away and came inside. Amen.

xoxox

It's a Schoolish Sort of Day

Sssshhhhh! Babydoll and Bug are taking their end-of-year tests.

Hunk O Man is administering these tests, because he has a Bachelor's degree and I do not. When I explained that apparently he knows more about doing these tests than I do, he laughed. I took that as a nice compliment. Which I needed, after a heart-to-heart with one of my teenagers about where her life and priorities are versus where I think they should be.

I am also doing Bug's transcripts so she can return to high school for her senior year (after coming home and completing her junior year as homeschooling as of April). I'm glad she's doing this; she'll graduate with her twin sister Rose, and that's important. There are a lot of things that happen your senior year in a high school that are so common to us as Americans that I think they really shouldn't be missed.

I spent the day shopping with Bunny yesterday. She is a riot. I always enjoy her company. I made her promise she would always come home and shop with me for Christmas, wherever her life takes her. I think there may be airline tickets in her future.

I've spent a lot of time with people this week, and that has worn me out. But it's good! Monday, I took Ms. Myrtle to her doctor's appointment and heard all about her life. She narrated to me the years of five children and five husbands, and working and living in NC and FL. It took her mind off a potential procedure she was to have, that was uncomfortable. Turns out she didn't need it after all! I got lunch for she and Wiley and I at Chick-fil-a and she nearly had a fit trying to pay me for it. I was having none of it. I won that one.

The next day, Tuesday, I drove them both to Rocky Mount to have Wiley's dental work done. I was at their house at 6:00AM -- a true departure for me, as I'm normally up around 8, but I was glad to do it because they are such dears. We drove down, had breakfast at Hardee's (GREAT chicken biscuit, by the way!), and once again we befuddled the poor cashier by Ms. Myrtle attempting to pay for my breakfast and me refusing. I won that one too.

And then yesterday, I met Ms. Nancy (church secretary and unofficial associate pastor, person who knows everything and everybody and everything about everybody, and general person who runs the church) for coffee at Starbucks. She gave me a Starbucks card and said "This is from Myrtle." I looked and her and sighed. She immediately said, in her soft, southern drawl, "You know you can't do anything with her." I laughed. She's right. You just can't.

Yesterday Babydoll and I rode over to Ms. Myrtle's and had a brief visit. She was glad to see Babydoll and insisted they go out to lunch once school starts. I think that they will find no lack of things to talk about. Ms. Myrtle mentioned that she hoped I had enjoyed my coffee that morning with Ms. Nancy. Talk about a small town.

Wednesday was a tennis match and more town gossip with Michelle, the tennis coach. That woman knows everyone as well, and certainly has her ear to what's happening in the town. I finally know why the bugs are so thick this year. And I have zero idea as to why the tennis courts aren't finished yet. Hmmm. It pays to know people around here.

And a wasp stung me yesterday! I have never been stung by anything other than a sweat bee, so far as I know. These things hurt! It seems I can't go outside for five minutes without getting bitten or stung by something. If only squirrels ate bugs, we'd be in business. The girls constantly scream about all the spiders -- but I like them. They eat the bugs. Perhaps this is why I've never been much of a gardener. Flying, stinging, biting bugs. True definitions for the word "pest."

So it's a low-key day, and Hunk O Man wants me to listen to something called "Straight from the Mouth of a Pastor's Kid" from "Defining Moments," which is an audio journal from the Willow Creek Association. I am hopeful that it will shed some light on my relationship with my girls. I'll let you know --

So it's back to normality here, and possibly a giveaway in the near future --

You Thought I Was Kidding, Didn't You?

Nope. Totally Serious.

This is what Hunk O Man has. He hates driving the van.

Catching Up

I hate being sick, and I've been sick for the past two days. Terrible cold, body aches, possible fever, annoying headache -- I think most people would call this The Flu. I don't have time for this.

Since I have fluid in my ears most of the time, along with chronic allergies and sinus problems, this is seriously no fun.

The older girls all left Monday morning to go to TN to their conference, in my van, so I've been managing with catch-as-catch-can in terms of needing a car to drive. Same thing last week, when the van was in the shop the better part of the week because of the (insert expletive of your choice here) check engine light.

Sometimes I get the Rav, sometimes not. Mostly not. Which, the past two days, has been fine. Today I am committed to going to the doctor and getting every and any antibiotic known toman in order to kill all germs in residence in my head. Honestly -- this sinus headache I've got has me thinking that chemotherapy isn't a bad idea.

VBS has been going all week, so Hunk O Man and Baby have been MIA every evening. That has enabled me to walk the dog, water the flowers, and run the sprinkler. I feel like an old woman, and yet I enjoy it immensely. Ah, the quieter pursuits of life.

Which were seriously interrupted on Wednesday evening --

. . . because Baby (mine) was keeping B's baby, Lydia, who is about 15 months old. And very busy.

Oops! There's no one to watch her at VBS! Enter me, the past-the-baby-stage-but-not-yet-to-the-grandma-stage yet babysitter.

What a busy little girl. Oh my goodness, how I've forgotten. Good Lord, how DID I do this with 5 under 5?

We snapped the "snaps." That's what you call fresh green beans around here -- "snaps." Actually I get that little colloquiallism, because it makes sense. You snap off the ends and then snap them in half to cook them. Lydia sat on the counter and chewed on 3 or 4 of them while I snapped. Raw green beans? Not my veggie of choice, but hey, she's only a year old. So whatever.

We went outside and watered flowers. She ate pinecones, put her hands in the hose and got soaked, and played with (chased) the dog. Now some things I haven't forgotten -- like how kids will eat pinecones, dirt, gravel, straw, grass, etc. But my kids have all survived, so I figured she would too.

And getting wet -- well, I recall the time I tried having a garden and ended up with a mud pit, and my kids all decided to have a go at mud-sliding and wrestling. I remember my mother was visiting, and I looked at her and sighed. She was laughing at me. I said, "Mom, I can always buy new clothes, I guess."

B would have been pulling Lydia out of the hose water telling her not to get wet. Psuedo-Grandma Jen, however, knows that the clothes will dry, and it's a hot summer evening, so why not? After all, there aren't 2 or 3 or 4 other kids to get ready for bed. . .

I changed her stinky diaper. I swear, even after 5 kids, I will never get used to the smell of poop. Ahkey-shewey!

Then I pulled off all her clothes and let her run thru the house jabbering away in her diaper. Ah-dah-dah-dah-dah in the most serious of tones. How hilarious is it when they look at you as if they've just asked you a question and they completely expect you to understand what they've said? I always try and take them seriously, because I think they trust you more if they think you speak it.

I tried putting one of Baby's shirts on her, but she just kept pulling at it. No problem then, we'll just take it off. Naked with just a diaper works for me.

Her little bare buns looked just like JB's when JB was a baby -- little dinner rolls. I used to say "We'll just put butter on them and eat'em up!"

Baby (mine) didn't bring me any dry clothes, pj's, or a bottle. So I made do with a small water bottle filled with milk. We sat and watched Jon & Kate + 8 and Lydie almost went to sleep. Her eyes were just little narrow slits, all comfy with her pacifier, watchin' tv in my lap.

In the end, I only had to pick up the plastic containers and lids strewn across the kitchen floor, plus a package of toe-separators for toenail-polishing that she somehow found. And a few green bean ends and some crushed goldfish crackers. Actually, it wasn't any different than when my teenagers are home.

Maybe I am almost ready to be a Grandma after all. Those little cheeks were awfully sweet, and definitely hard not to constantly smooch on . . .nonstop . . .

This is What Happens When You Reorganise.

Yesterday, I spent the day rearranging my dining/sewing room. AGale's mom came over -- she's a good friend -- and we first measured and then got out the graph paper. Then we moved stuff. The result is magnificent! I now can get into the room and move around, and I still have my workspace. The best part is that when you walk in the front door, you see the computer and my beautiful poster of the ocean.

And she organized and made my cubbies all pretty --

And you have to actually turn around to see this --

Because everything went in here!

Ugh. More organizing to do with that. But that's out of sight and done for now!

Homeschooling stuff went here

Which meant that the bookshelf had to be brought in from the porch. So Bug decided that everything should be taken off the bookshelf and apparently left randomly throughout the porch.

Before it can go in this

Which has to be moved over here.

Nothing like reorganising your space. Never let it be said that one reorganisation does not necessitate another five.

Anyway. Aaahhhh. Now I can relax in my new workroom! Until, that is, I start putting the floor down in the laundry room later this week.

BUT -- school ends today, and homeschooling will largely end on Friday. Except for science and Bug's math and science and Narnia --

Ok, so homeschooling continues for a little while. But I will have help doing the laundry room!

But not from this guy. I think I may want his life most days.

This Ain't Omaha ...

So why is there all manner of wildlife outside my door? I just heard a woodpecker hammering away at the back porch. Hopefully he isn't finding termites inside it to eat. I've only ever lived in places with such exotic birds as hummingbirds. Woodpeckers? Seems like I saw once in a third-grade coloring book. And there's always Woody, the cartoon -- (I think I must be telling my age here) --



Hey wait! Maybe Mr. Woodpecker should find some termites, because that would mean the back porch would fall down eventually! Hooray!

And speaking of Wild Kingdom: Hunk O Man is indeed a homewrecker. The baby birds flew the nest, so he threw it away.

THREW IT AWAY!!!



After (quite literally) everyone else in the family berated him loudly and continuously as they walked in and heard, he went and fished it out of the trees growing up out of the stump, where he had thrown it.



This man has some serious approval addiction and conflict avoidance issues.



He put it back in the upper corner of the back porch, of course where no one could possibly actually see it, and of course where the mama birdie will never return because it smells like Hunk O Man.



My Hunk O Man. Not the Birdie Hunk O Man.



And now it's gone, nowhere to be seen. It must have fallen off the beam. Bye bye birdies indeed. I hope they find the plastic bag stash again next year. Hunk O Man assures me that they will.



And on to happier things pertaining to fashion, and shameless showing off by me. This is Bug modeling Bunny's dress that you previously saw. Bunny wore it the other night to the sports awards. JB wore her dress as well. I just wanted to show you the stitching on the lower hem border. And also -- guess what it's made of?











Yep -- 200 thread count flat sheet from Wal-Mart. No kidding. It was the only black fabric I had hanging around. I think it was a queen-sized sheet, and I don't think it cost more than about $6. The white tie is from yet another sheet I previously used for some home dec project. Gotta love it when designer fashion comes this cheap.






My sewing machine does this cool maxi-stitch, and that's how I did the hem embroidery. It took forever, sitting there trying to keep it straight, but turned out pretty nicely. The Bunny is happy, so that's the important thing. Now Bug wants a dress like this. I guess I'd better go buy some more sheets. Here's the original dress (from Anthropologie) I copied, and will be making for Petite next, to send to France:



Bug also brought me several t-shirts that are too big or too sloppy. So I took one and made her a little elastic-waisted skirt. I used the back of the neck to make a little pocket for the back.









Kinda short, but cute with leggings or shorts under. I may add some length to it with some trim or fabric. I have a few other t-shirts I'm going to make smaller and more fitted for her -- with a couple of passes of the serger. Takes 10 minutes, no kidding. I should advertise these at $5 a pop. I'd make a fortune around here.


There are a myriad of ideas like this available in this book:



When you pull it up on Amazon.com, you get a whole slew of cool books about how to transform your t-shirts into other cool things. Some don't even require sewing -- t-shirts are generally made from knit that doesn't ravel. So you can shred it or fringe it or just cut it off and go with the "unfinished" look.

Please do leave a comment and let me know what you think. I love to hear from you. Even if it's just to say "Hey, Jen, talk about shameless crowing about how you can sew . . . will you make something for me?"