The GPS is my neeewww friend, and I call him Chase, and I hug him and squeeze him, and when he is bad, I threaten to throw him out the window.
I've always been a map kind of gal. I like pictures, to be sure. Pictures are good.
On our recent road trip, The Big Boy and I threw caution to the wind and didn't even visit an online mapping tool before we left. We took the GPS.
Along the way, we played with the GPS, trying various accents, etc. Right after the purchase, we set her on a British lady. On this trip, however, we changed it. We really like the voice of the Aussie male. He sounds just like Chase, from House.
There were a few times when Chase made me really, really mad. I yelled at him and told him to straighten up or he is going OUT THE WINDOW!
Other times, I could have kissed him.
Then, when I knew where I was, and to where I was headed, I didn't need his sweet voice chiming over and over, "Recalculating", so I told him, "Honey, you can be quiet now...I know where I am." That sent The Big Boy over the edge, laughing at me.
So, I'm still a map kind of gal. When Chase took me all over the countryside, on county roads in counties I didn't even know existed, I'm not sure that was really the best way. Chase, however, has a new spot in my heart, and I really like him a lot and I hope we travel many miles together.
Someday, I may just introduce him to my friend, J's, GPS. Her name is Athena.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Feathered bangs and Beat It, Gone in a Day
I'm having a sad time. Two of my childhood icons are gone in a day.
Farrah Fawcett.
The swimsuit poster. Feathered Bangs. Charlie's Angel. Guys drooled over her and girls wanted to look like her.
Michael Jackson:
The Jackson 5. I listened to the album over and over and over when I was very small. My family was worn out on Michael before he turned 12, thanks to me. Then, high school, well, was framed largely by his music, his dance moves, and his style. He was fraught with talent and a musical genius. His later years are evidence of his search for....I don't think he ever knew what he was missing. Maybe he did. He always seemed so lost and just messed up. He made himself a bit of a freak trying to satisfy something in his soul. He remained a musical genius and an icon through it all.
Having said that.......
These two people, beautiful, talented, icons of our culture had so much that we, as a society, covet. Beauty. Perfect Pitch. Gracefulness. Ability. Money. Power. Prestige. Fans.
And now, they are gone. Now, what do they have?
Last night, I told my kids, that despite all they have had for all these years, at this point in time, what do they have? As they meet death, as they account for their lives on earth, what do they have?
Only Jesus knows for sure. Certainly some mom in the Midwest who has never been within hundreds of miles of them cannot account for the state of their soul.
What I do know, is that all that they had while on this earth is dust to them now. All the nice things they did, all the bad things they did, all their earthly possessions, and all their devoted fans are worthless.
Because, in death, we all stand before an audience of One.
He is the only fan that counts. He is, indeed, our fan. He sacrificed it all for us. He holds us accountable for every deed, every word, everything. Despite it all, our deeds and words cannot give us eternal life. It is only by His Grace. His Sacrifice. His Love.
So, the answer? At this time, unless they have Jesus, they have nothing. (At this point my kids giggled and pointed out that their aunt, my sister, made a similar speech to them recently and boy, we are so much alike! That, my friends, is quite the compliment)
It is sobering.
For what am I laboring?
Unless it is for my audience of One, it is for naught.
Farrah Fawcett.
The swimsuit poster. Feathered Bangs. Charlie's Angel. Guys drooled over her and girls wanted to look like her.
Michael Jackson:
The Jackson 5. I listened to the album over and over and over when I was very small. My family was worn out on Michael before he turned 12, thanks to me. Then, high school, well, was framed largely by his music, his dance moves, and his style. He was fraught with talent and a musical genius. His later years are evidence of his search for....I don't think he ever knew what he was missing. Maybe he did. He always seemed so lost and just messed up. He made himself a bit of a freak trying to satisfy something in his soul. He remained a musical genius and an icon through it all.
Having said that.......
These two people, beautiful, talented, icons of our culture had so much that we, as a society, covet. Beauty. Perfect Pitch. Gracefulness. Ability. Money. Power. Prestige. Fans.
And now, they are gone. Now, what do they have?
Last night, I told my kids, that despite all they have had for all these years, at this point in time, what do they have? As they meet death, as they account for their lives on earth, what do they have?
Only Jesus knows for sure. Certainly some mom in the Midwest who has never been within hundreds of miles of them cannot account for the state of their soul.
What I do know, is that all that they had while on this earth is dust to them now. All the nice things they did, all the bad things they did, all their earthly possessions, and all their devoted fans are worthless.
Because, in death, we all stand before an audience of One.
He is the only fan that counts. He is, indeed, our fan. He sacrificed it all for us. He holds us accountable for every deed, every word, everything. Despite it all, our deeds and words cannot give us eternal life. It is only by His Grace. His Sacrifice. His Love.
So, the answer? At this time, unless they have Jesus, they have nothing. (At this point my kids giggled and pointed out that their aunt, my sister, made a similar speech to them recently and boy, we are so much alike! That, my friends, is quite the compliment)
It is sobering.
For what am I laboring?
Unless it is for my audience of One, it is for naught.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Laundry Room of Horrors
Have you ever pondered the effect on a laundry room when two Things go to camp? Add to that the mom and Big Boy going to a baseball tournament, not to return until a few days after the Things return. I assure you, the sight, and smell, are not for the faint of heart.
It is enough to make Jack Bauer shrink in fear.
It is enough to make Gibbs head back to Mexico.
At such a sight and smell, the smoke monster will retreat, never to be seen again.
I would post pictures, but they would have to have a disclaimer, and I am no attorney.
The Things returned on Friday. Thing 2 must have forgotten those plastic bags for wet things shoved in the bottom of her duffel. So, wet swimsuits, towels, and I don't want to know what else, were evenly distributed throughout the bag, assuring everything in there would be subject to the wet....on Friday morning. By Tuesday afternoon, when said bag was discovered by mom, it was utterly nauseating. Having not been here on the Things return to quickly open the bags and get the stuff OUT (I know my Things, after all), it sat for an extra few days.
That smell has to be the same stuff that lurked in the car after Jerry (Seinfeld) had it parked by a valet. The smell that lingered in Elaine's hair, and despite efforts to rid herself of the scent, it wouldn't go.
I have discovered that there are no methods available to man that will dissipate the scent in anything less than three long, heavy duty washings. It involves a lot of oxy cleaner, soaking, and a high-temp sanitize wash.
Only a persistent, stubborn mom could prevail in such circumstances.
The laundry room is thanking me. I think it was starting to crumble, so defeating was its contents. I'm sure it felt hopeless. There is an end in sight. The floor has been discovered again, and I'm confident that with the team of Tide, OxyClean, Downey, bleach, and a rockin' new washer and dryer, we will prevail.
It is enough to make Jack Bauer shrink in fear.
It is enough to make Gibbs head back to Mexico.
At such a sight and smell, the smoke monster will retreat, never to be seen again.
I would post pictures, but they would have to have a disclaimer, and I am no attorney.
The Things returned on Friday. Thing 2 must have forgotten those plastic bags for wet things shoved in the bottom of her duffel. So, wet swimsuits, towels, and I don't want to know what else, were evenly distributed throughout the bag, assuring everything in there would be subject to the wet....on Friday morning. By Tuesday afternoon, when said bag was discovered by mom, it was utterly nauseating. Having not been here on the Things return to quickly open the bags and get the stuff OUT (I know my Things, after all), it sat for an extra few days.
That smell has to be the same stuff that lurked in the car after Jerry (Seinfeld) had it parked by a valet. The smell that lingered in Elaine's hair, and despite efforts to rid herself of the scent, it wouldn't go.
I have discovered that there are no methods available to man that will dissipate the scent in anything less than three long, heavy duty washings. It involves a lot of oxy cleaner, soaking, and a high-temp sanitize wash.
Only a persistent, stubborn mom could prevail in such circumstances.
The laundry room is thanking me. I think it was starting to crumble, so defeating was its contents. I'm sure it felt hopeless. There is an end in sight. The floor has been discovered again, and I'm confident that with the team of Tide, OxyClean, Downey, bleach, and a rockin' new washer and dryer, we will prevail.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Summer, You Have Changed!
Every spring as the robins and martins come, the flowers bloom, and the trees and grass turn that light green that is so near and dear to my heart, I dream.
Every Easter as we dress in our summer outfits which are always light, airy, and sleeveless and FREEZE because in reality, despite the aspirations of our clothing, it is STILL WINTER, I dream.
Every May as I traverse from one year-end banquet to the next, and furiously scramble trying to get homeschool to be over BEFORE JUNE, I dream.
I dream of lazy, hazy days, lounging in the hammock, reading a really good, non-homeschool FICTION novel that takes me away.
I dream of lemonade on the front porch watching the birds fly, the kids play, and the cars go by.
I dream of lounging by the pool reading while my children joyously frolic in the water, just happy to be there and together. (Okay, maybe I don't go THAT far....)
I dream of baseball games, picnics, berry picking, flowers, farmers markets, and that sought-after commodity, TIME. Oh, time. I dream of that one a lot.
So, my summers, in my mind, are a conglomeration of blissful moments from the past summers, which dance in my head, giving a warm, fuzzy feeling to my heart.
Now, I sit, scratching my head, wondering.....why has summer changed? I feel ever so betrayed!
I admit, I have enjoyed some exciting and fun baseball games, visiting with dear baseball friends, and watching the boys play. The rest of it? Sigh. Nope, not at all.
No moments on the hammock reading even a homeschool, non-fiction book. The flowers are there, and because we are enduring the late July 100 degree weather, they are looking like late July flowers and I'm sorry, it's just not as much fun! (Maybe after the tlc I gave them this morning, they will snap out of it....) The few front porch moments I had were punctuated by the Really Cranky Neighbor cussing at his dog and screaming at people to "Slow down! You drive too fast!" (Ah, and that is fodder for another blog, to be sure..)
And worst of all, no moments by the pool. I realize there are people who are EVER SO MUCH WORSE OFF than I, and I am being a pampered, spoiled child right now, but I don't think folks realize how much those moments by the pool maintain my sanity. I don't just benefit in the summer, but all winter long. Because, you see, if I don't have moments by the pool, of what will I dream those long, gray days in March when the sun doesn't shine for a few weeks in a row? Really....I need moments by the pool. With a friend, alone with a book, I'm happy either way. I am happy by a creek, river, or lake, too. Two ingredients fit the bill: Water and sun.
So, this week? We will go to a pool. We will pick blueberries. And despite all that is not right in the world, I will make some memories that will make all the difference next winter and spring....
Every Easter as we dress in our summer outfits which are always light, airy, and sleeveless and FREEZE because in reality, despite the aspirations of our clothing, it is STILL WINTER, I dream.
Every May as I traverse from one year-end banquet to the next, and furiously scramble trying to get homeschool to be over BEFORE JUNE, I dream.
I dream of lazy, hazy days, lounging in the hammock, reading a really good, non-homeschool FICTION novel that takes me away.
I dream of lemonade on the front porch watching the birds fly, the kids play, and the cars go by.
I dream of lounging by the pool reading while my children joyously frolic in the water, just happy to be there and together. (Okay, maybe I don't go THAT far....)
I dream of baseball games, picnics, berry picking, flowers, farmers markets, and that sought-after commodity, TIME. Oh, time. I dream of that one a lot.
So, my summers, in my mind, are a conglomeration of blissful moments from the past summers, which dance in my head, giving a warm, fuzzy feeling to my heart.
Now, I sit, scratching my head, wondering.....why has summer changed? I feel ever so betrayed!
I admit, I have enjoyed some exciting and fun baseball games, visiting with dear baseball friends, and watching the boys play. The rest of it? Sigh. Nope, not at all.
No moments on the hammock reading even a homeschool, non-fiction book. The flowers are there, and because we are enduring the late July 100 degree weather, they are looking like late July flowers and I'm sorry, it's just not as much fun! (Maybe after the tlc I gave them this morning, they will snap out of it....) The few front porch moments I had were punctuated by the Really Cranky Neighbor cussing at his dog and screaming at people to "Slow down! You drive too fast!" (Ah, and that is fodder for another blog, to be sure..)
And worst of all, no moments by the pool. I realize there are people who are EVER SO MUCH WORSE OFF than I, and I am being a pampered, spoiled child right now, but I don't think folks realize how much those moments by the pool maintain my sanity. I don't just benefit in the summer, but all winter long. Because, you see, if I don't have moments by the pool, of what will I dream those long, gray days in March when the sun doesn't shine for a few weeks in a row? Really....I need moments by the pool. With a friend, alone with a book, I'm happy either way. I am happy by a creek, river, or lake, too. Two ingredients fit the bill: Water and sun.
So, this week? We will go to a pool. We will pick blueberries. And despite all that is not right in the world, I will make some memories that will make all the difference next winter and spring....
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