A Memorable Weekend

Friday night 'The Husband God Gave Me' and I went out for dinner to celebrate our anniversary. Then, because we truly could not think of anything else that we wanted to do, we went to our favorite thrift store. I'm glad we did, as it provided me with great reading material for the rest of the weekend.

The Anniversary Celebration on Saturday was wonderful. The weather was great, cooler along the lake shore. Lilacs were still blooming there. THGGM and I were able to hit three major antique venues between Spring Lake and Holland. After stopping home for a nap and coffee (after all, this is our 27th anniversary) we went out again and hit one more closer to home. By evening I was rolling around in pain from what appears to be a pinched nerve in my back (send sympathy, please - or vicodin).

On Sunday fourteen of my family came to celebrate six birthday's, Mother's Day and Memorial Day. I mostly sat on the couch with a large green styrofoam apple applying pressure to the sore spot on my back.

Monday we went out to breakfast with Youngest Son, Daughter and Son-in-law. The rest of the day I spent lying on the green apple reading a book I bought on Friday. It's titled "Any Given Day - the life and times of Jessie Lee Brown Foveaux". A simple book written by an 80 year old woman about a not so simple life spanning the 20th century.

Other than the pain of the pinched nerve, this is the kind of weekend I like to have.

And the kind of marriage.

(thggm had a busier weekend. he painted. a lot.)

May 27, 1978

On this day, twenty-seven years ago to day, THGGM and I got married.

For this part of West Michigan which usually has cool and rainy Memorial Day weekends, it certainly was not the case on THIS one.

The ceremony began at 2:00 in the afternoon. The church (which i can presently see reflected on my computer screen as i write this) was a sweltering 92 degrees.

It was a simple affair.

The reception was cake and ice cream in a very warm church basement.

We spent our first night in our new apartment, which used to be a boarding house. All the rooms were numbered.

For our honeymoon we went to Mackinaw Island. Lilacs were blooming everywhere.

Tomorrow we will celebrate by antique shopping along the lake shore.

I can't wait.

I Can't Think of a Title for This

The Husband God Gave Me came home last night with a strange yet true story.

While traveling home down the busiest street in West Michigan, he saw a man strip buck naked on the side of the road, directly in front of the pet supply store. A middle-aged, red haired, bearded, fat man. He appeared to be getting ready to step into traffic.

THGGM turned around (which could not happen quickly due to the amount of traffic) and on his return pass saw that the buck naked man was now sitting on a sign putting his pants back on.

In the next turn, an older woman had her hand on the now dressed man's shoulder, and was walking him down a side street. The pet supply store workers were all crowded together at the front door of the store, watching this all unfold.

THGGM and I lead such different lives. I never left the house yesterday. I miss all the weird stuff.

I am so thankful for that.

A Rant for Today

Today I am going to tell you what I do not like. I do not like pantyhose. This is an OLD subject, so I won't rehash other people's views, as I do believe it has all been said. What I WILL rant about is how THGGM is trying to insist that I wear them.

I'm one of those pale skinned Dutch/Irish people. I'm also, to put it in a positive spin, not thin. And, I have very large feet. According to my husband, this makes it necessary for me to wear pantyhose.

I believe that the last time I wore pantyhose was to Daughter's wedding. Before that, Oldest Son's wedding. So, when Youngest Son gets married, I will wear them. I promise.

But, until then, those very white ankles that are visible above my large shoes and below my jumper are what you are going to see. Deal with it.

And now, for the REAL reason I am ranting... Jackhammers just arrived to remove the cement from the driveway. I cannot hear myself think. I could escape to work, but that would only put me on the OTHER side of the driveway. I do not tolerate noise well. Or pantyhose.

A Reminder:

Christmas is seven months from today. If your life goes anything like mine, that means that what you do not have done six months from today, will either not get done, or will be done in such a hurry that you will not enjoy it.

So, get busy.

Back When Someone Was Home

I tripped and fell down memory lane today.

I found a box full of my old journals. Each entry is like cracking open a window to the past.

Here is a different look at another May 20th of my past...

May 20, 1996 - About 2 3/4 inches of rain fell today. Didn't go out, except when I had to.

Cleaned a little, read a little, washed a little, cooked a little.

Played "TriBond" together.

Oldest Son read us "The Lumber Room" by Saki.

Made almond cookies.

Oldest Son has a rash that needs to be checked out.

Daughter got new contacts.

Youngest Son got a detention.

May 21, 1996 - Oldest Son has Pityrosis Rosea.

Daughter won her baseballgame.

Youngest Son had 20 million phone calls from girls.

Took mom rubberstamp shopping and out to lunch for Mother's Day. Meant to pay for her lunch, but totally forgot! Didn't realize this until I got back home. I'm such an idiot!

Did nothing tonight but read.

The Summer That Wasn't

My 'in home accident' happened three years ago on this date. It was the first Monday after Daughter moved out of her dorm. From this day forward, she could be called "Daughter the Prophet".

We had planned to do a lot of walking together when she moved back home. But that Monday morning three years ago today was unseasonably cold, and I did not want to go walking around a lake in a winter coat on the 20th of May. It just seemed to unspringlike for me.

She looked at me and announced that if I didn't go walk 'today' I would not go walking all summer. Truer words were never spoken. I didn't go walking that day, nor any other day that summer.

Instead, I got this silly idea to finish up some sewing. Lest you think I 'sew', I don't. But, I did have a sewing machine, fabric and some unfinished pillow covers. Monday's project was to make a cover for a child's size wicker rocker. Things were moving along wonderfully. Daughter and I were even singing goofy songs we made up as we went along.

Then, it was time. Time to get the pillow stuffing from the closet. I'm just going to assume that EVERYONE has a really junky closet where you store stuff that doesn't belong in a specific category. I could see the pillow stuffing on the very top shelf, so I moved my handy dandy bench and climbed on. I still couldn't quite reach the bag of pillow stuffing, so I shifted all of my weight onto one foot to reach just a touch higher.

When suddenly, all my plans for the summer came crashing down.

The bench flipped, and slapped me in the leg, which threw my knee out of joint. I know this because before I ever fell, I yelled to my daughter that I had broken my leg. Then came the fall, ON the out of joint leg. Oh, and just to keep it interesting, the shelf tipped, and poured the contents of that top shelf onto my twisted prone body. And, I landed on a lamp. A lamp made from a canning jar full of marbles.

I didn't realize what a quick responder Daughter is. She had taken my pulse, and checked me over before I realize what had happened.

Now, what does one DO when one is wedged in a closet full of glass, marbles, games pieces, magazines and ones leg is pointing in the wrong direction? I seem to remember picking up the bottom part of my leg and sort of throwing it out of the closet.

Daughter called THGGM home from work. By then I had inched my way out of the closet, and was lying on the floor looking under my art table. Daughter took the time to yell at me about not obsessing about picking up all the scraps I found under there, but I just couldn't help myself. It was a mess.

How was I going to get into the car to get to a doctor to have my leg put back together?

THGGM couldn't think of anything either. He called a friend, one who now knows about the messy condition of my art room. It took almost two hours, but I arrived at the emergency room with a wooden bed slat and two bathrobe ties (one yellow, one black and red plaid) tied around my leg.

I'm one of those people who has to go to the bathroom any time anything even remotely stressful is going on. This was MAJORLY stressful, especially since THGGM had just started this job he was called home from, and our health insurance wasn't in effect yet.

So, just one week shy of our 24th wedding anniversary. THGGM and I brought our relationship to a new level, as he wheeled me into the handicapped bathroom at the hospital while I proceeded to, shall we say, void. We have no secrets any more.

They did try to put my leg back together that day. It didn't work. They sent me home with my leg wrapped in a lovely blue contraption made of aluminum rods and velcro.

Thus began the summer that wasn't.

Just a reminder, be careful what you wish for. I had just written in a journal that what I really wanted was to have uninterrupted time to just sit on the couch and read. After about two weeks and a pile of really good books, I thought of other things I would rather be doing. In one of my writing/drawing journals from the time I scribbled this note: Today I was so bored I almost watched "The Partridge Family".

I've recovered from my injuries. But, I'm still paying for it. Not having insurance hurt worse than the actual fall.

My three year old friend came to my house to play today, the second time this week. All I can say is if you don't have a three year old friend, you need to get yourself one. But you can't have mine.

Today we colored paper dolls. A boy one, and a girl one. You can tell by their hair. Not their clothes. The boy mostly wore a pink tutu. The girl, a winter coat and boots.

We stamped with my rubber-stamps, and her brand new Wiggles stamps. I love to rubber-stamp. So does she. My arm didn't turn quite as green as hers did though.

She is very polite, and at lunch made all the right yummy sounds about peanut butter sandwiches, cheese and broccoli. But she didn't eat a bite. My dog is rather gassy tonight.

She taught me all of the words to the Barney song (i'm so glad i had my kids BEFORE barney!). We watched Dora the Explorer. I think Map has an attitude problem.

She fell asleep during Barney. Woke up and announced to the waiting world that it was a 'GOOD NAP!'. Although, she did hand me some 'eye boogers' and pronounced them 'disgusting'.

While sitting at my computer, which in her honest opinion isn't a very good one, she discovered my hymnbook, and began to sing at the top of her lungs. Most of the songs were her own creations, but she does do a very good rendition of "Jesus Loves Me".

I always have to check her bag before she leaves, as she likes to take things that she 'needs at home'. Today, I pulled three leather-bound Bibles from her diaper bag. I tried to replace them with a lovely children's Bible with cool pictures, but she insisted that she NEEDED three Bibles at HER house, WITHOUT pictures! She also had an ace of spades in there, and probably a few up her sleeve too.

She proclaimed to all who could hear her that the front entryway was HER HOUSE. We have a french door to this spot, so I could watch her. It's not a very big space, and she had adopted quite a large family, including Youngest Son. Every time she moved, someone fell over. She kept putting her hand on her hip and yelling at them, 'I AM SO ANGRY WITH YOU! YOU DISGUST ME!' Disgust was the operative word of the day. For added emphasis, she pointed a wooden cane at them.

I'm always glad to send her home happy. As the diaper bag passed me, I pulled out the Marushka dolls that belong to Daughter.

Tomorrow I will put the battery back in the clock and set it to the correct time. I will take all the breakable stuff down from the high shelves. I will put the stamps and ink away. I will give all the little dolls a hug and tell them that I don't think they are disgusting. I'll pick up the alphabet blocks, resort my books, and put all the games away making sure that the pieces are accounted for.

I will be lonely.

Momma Don't Allow No Music Playin' Round Here

Do you remember that really old black and white cartoon of the mice singing "Momma Don't Allow No Music Playin' Round Here"? It was always one of my favorites. I especially liked to change the word 'music' to fit whatever I didn't "allow round here". But that was YEARS ago. YEARS.

A few months back, Daughter and I were partaking of one of our favorite rituals, drinking coffee on the couch. She also had a bowl of cereal and milk. Our cat, Barb (Daughter named HIM when she was just a child) was trying to sneak his paw into her bowl. As he tipped the bowl to himself, we both remembered at the same time that NO ONE is allowed to give the cat milk, as he is most positively lactose intolerant. So, Daughter began to sing to him "Momma Don't Allow No Cat's Drinkin Milk Round Here". Yes, totally silly, we both realized that. But, we belted it out anyway.

Two days later, while Instant Messaging with Oldest Son who was then still living in Oxford, he IMed me such an interesting comment that I almost fell right out of my chair. He said, "For the past few days, I can't get that song 'Momma Don't Allow No Music Playing Round Here' out of my head".

Hmmm. Those families ties are quiet long-lasting and far-reaching. I do so hope that some of the more intelligent things I tried to instill in them took hold also. One CAN always hope. Momma does allow that!

Pick a Good Day, and Journey There...

Once, long ago, in a time far far away from now, a mommy and daddy lived with their three young children.

The mommy and daddy were teachers in their young children's class at church. This meant that the mommy tried out a lot of crafts on her offspring.One particular publisher of children's material had a great fondness for birdseed. In that time long ago, it seemed that each week birdseed was required in the lesson plan. So, very regularly, the mommy and children rolled peanut butter onto pinecones and then rolled those in birdseed. The daddy went to the deli to buy plastic containers to make bird feeders. Holes were cut in milk jugs by the daddy and decorated to attract the birds to the seeds that would be scattered underneath. That class of long ago gave birdseed and some sort of container for every holiday imaginable.

So, it was no wonder that one day, in that time far far away from now, the mommy heard her very young daughter belt out the song "I Cast All My Cares Upon You". Although in her version, instead of burdens, she sang with gusto:

"I cast all my cares upon You
I lay all of my birdseed, down at Your feet!"

Somedays the mommy and daddy miss that time far far away from now. So, they pick a good day, and journey there...

These Things Should Not Be

Daughter came over on Monday. She had forms to fill out before she went to the lab for her pregnancy blood work. I still have her immunization card and hold in my memory all of her childhood illnesses and surgeries.

So, she read the form to me, and when necessary, I blurted out what I knew. Most of it seemed standard to me. Until she read this line:

"Have you been punched, hit or kicked in the past year? Have you been punched, hit or kicked since you have been pregnant?"

Huh? Punched, hit or kicked? Happening regularly enough that it requires it's own line on the form?

How sad. How very very sad.

What a Funny Kid

Oldest Son was a most interesting little boy. Extremely verbal early on, he still is.

Sunday, he edited a newsletter he found lying around my house. Oh, he's funny that way. And extremely articulate.

When he was three, he belonged to an esteemed group of children known as AWANA Cubbies. Cubbies was the JOY of his young life. The kids wore tiny vests on which 'patches' were ironed to honor their achievements.

One of those achievements was to memorize and sing the Cubbie theme song. This became a HUGE deal at our house. I had other things going on, a new baby and a one and a half year old took up a lot of my 'free' time. Yet, everyday we looked over the Cubbie book. The Cubbie theme song posed a problem for Oldest Son.

He refused to sing it.

Always an easy child to communicate with, I questioned him as to why. He fully understood that he would NOT get his 'patch' unless he did. Why wouldn't he?

Well, apparently, the Cubbie theme song is A LIE. Yes, he told me that. "I won't sing it, because it is A LIE". Oldest Son does NOT lie! The theme song goes: "We are AWANA Cubbies, we're happy all day long!"

He, I was informed, was NOT 'happy all day long' (this is true), so he would not sing it. Refused. Not gonna do it.

But, he was my Oldest Son, and I had to keep up with all of the other mom's whose little boys and girls GLEEFULLY lied in song. It took a lllooonnnggg time and a lot of reasoning to get him to finally do it. He sang it, but then informed his teacher that it was a lie.

And I ironed on the patch. But with a feeling that some sort of innocence was lost.

My Favorite Kind of Story

I received an e-mail today from my friend Anne, who was my house guest a week ago. She and her husband flew in from Maine to stay with us while attending their son Justin's college graduation. Justin was Oldest Son's college roommate when they were both freshman. Now, our family refers to him as our 'Thanksgiving Cousin'. With her permission, this is what Anne sent me this morning:

Hi Judy!

This is so awesome I couldn't wait to tell you.

Justin left Sunday morning on his 20 hour bus trip to NYC.

While I was coming in to work he called the office and left a message that he had arrived safely and was in the Empire State Building. I didn't get a chance to talk to him but I have been praying all weekend that he would arrive safely and that he would meet someone to help him get where he was going.

When I checked my e-mail I had a message from Brian Bell. He is the director of admissions at King's College and his mother and father are friends of ours from Maine. The very first person that Justin met in all of NYC was Brian Bell. Justin stopped and asked this man if he knew how to get to King's College and he said, "I sure do. I am Brian Bell and have you called your parents yet?"

He took him to his office at the school and that was where he was calling from. If I wasn't a Christian I do not think I could believe such a thing could happen. What are the odds?! Definitely not a coincidence! Isn't that just so amazing?! I can't wait to hear from him and see how he likes the classes. I guess God must really want him there because despite having no money and having decided that he wasn't going to be able to go – there he is!

Hope you are having a good day!

It is rainy and damp here, but I am having a great day! - ANNE

Truly, God is in the details!

Test Week

Last week was college exam week for Daughter. She stayed up late to study, I helped her review her notes and quizzed her on topics I'd never heard of. Besides passing all of her school tests, she passed one other.

This test will change her life more than the others.

On this test (four separate tests, actually) the news was all positive.

She is going to have a baby!

She and Son-in-law are thrilled.

THGGM and I are sporting silly little grins.

The first time great-grandparents are tickled pink (my mom actually leaped out of her chair!).

This baby will turn 3 guys into uncles, and 5 girls into aunts.

Hardly visible at this point in life, this baby is already changing things.

(now let's all rise and sing the doxology)

Please don't put me in the tea canister...

...unless you want coffee.

I love words. I love to label my world. I just am not too picky about having the words actually match what they are attached to.

This might have something to do with many things in my life that ended up being much different from what I had been led to believe. Much different.

Over at Mel's blog www.melodee128.blogspot.com she has an excellent post about labels. This got me thinking about labels, and the fact that I have many inconsistencies where labels are concerned.

I consider myself a political conservative, yet I'm not a fan of the death penalty, or war.

I'm a church librarian, yet I've rarely read any christian romance novels, end times novels or the stuff on display at the christian bookstores. It all gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I DO love George MacDonald, C.S. Lewis and have an undying love for Oswald Chambers' devotional book, "My Utmost for His Highest".

I've made scrapbooks for other people, yet I don't have any for myself. My pictures are all in a three drawer pink dresser (i painted it pink when i was 12). I make my own cards, and even sell them. Yet, Mother's Day somehow flew past me this year, and no mothers that I know (including my own) got any card at all. Neither did any of the college graduates that I know.

I'm horribly opposed to parents who do anything to cause their children to question their security. But, one day I told Youngest Son that I was going to have to sell him to the gypsies. Just then, the doorbell rang. I announce to him, "That must be them now." A very mean thing for me to do, and I strongly advise against trying that yourself.

I hate lying. Won't tolerate it. But yesterday when I was approached by a man downtown who told a very well rehearsed and movingly articulate story about having a flat tire and needing money to have it repaired, I said I had no cash on me. That wasn't true. I had three dollars and 50 cents in quarters in my pocket. But, as a rule, I do not lie.

I love to have things neat and in order. You would never know that if you visited my house. Especially today. Label me a slob, but deep inside, I know that the real problem is that I want it PERFECT, and I just don't have the energy to get it that way, so why bother?

I'm extremely pro-life. I did start to waver a little bit on that a few years ago. I started to wonder if God really wanted a woman to change the course of her life because of a pregnancy that occurred due to rape. God brought my three year old friend into my life, to bring me back to the truth.

There is a labeling system that I WOULD like to employ. I call it the 'dot' system. One can purchase these dots at office supply stores. Where I used to work, they labeled systems tapes for the computer. Today, they seem to be used most often at multifamily garage sales. What you get are red, blue, green and yellow circle stickers. The entire world should get these. Each morning, upon awaking, choose the sticker that most closely represents your mood. Yellow - approach with caution. Green - bring it on, all is well, I can handle anything. Blue - sad, moody, near tears, depressed. Red - back off! approach only if you have a death wish.
There, I just solved many of the world's problems.

Go get your stickers and label away! Put it on the middle of your forehead. This kind of labeling, I can handle.

What color is your sticker today?

Mine is green, but is subject to change. And my coffee remains in the tea canister. I've no real explanation as to why, except that it seems to fit better.

Labels lie. Examining the contents is still the best way to know what's in there. And if you can't distinguish tea from coffee just by looking at it, you've got a lot more to concern yourself with than labels.

Choose An Identity

I see this message when I respond to blogs. Oh, I fully understand what it means, yet I still delight in believing that I could actually choose an identity.

So, hang on, as this is what I would choose.

Child of God, Believer in Jesus Christ, Filled with the Spirit

Faithful Wife, Loving Mother, Understanding Friend

Writer, Pianist, Artist

Collector, Researcher, Avid Reader

Seeks Justice, Loves Mercy, Walks Humbly

Gracious, Merciful, Kind

Honest, Thin, Rich

Honestly, I am not thin or rich. The others? I long for them to describe me. Yes. That is the identity I would choose, or rather, the identity I strive to choose every day.

And you?

The 'Youngest Son and the Peep Hole' Story

Writing out the story 'I Meant To Do That!' reminded me of another Youngest Son story. A story he is thankful that he can't remember.

In the home we lived in for two years, three children crowded together in one very tiny room. This room connected to our bedroom by a shared bathroom.

One day while Oldest Son and Daughter happily played in the living room and Youngest Son napped, I took the opportunity to take a nice long leisurely bath (yes, the bathtub of 'row row row your boat' fame).

I got out of the tub at the same time that Youngest Son awoke from his nap. To me, it just seemed too early for him to wake up. I had make-up to put on, hair to dry, clothes to put on and was hoping for more uninterrupted time to do all of this. I told him to go back to sleep, or look at a book in his crib.

But, he was calling for me to get him up. I tried stalling, but nothing would deter him. I ignored his earnest pleas. Finally, I said in exasperation "I can't get you up, I'm in the bathtub!"

To which he replied, like I was some sort of demented mental patient, "NO YOU ARE NOT! I SEE YOU STANDING THERE ALL BARE NAKED!"

Hmmm. Apparently he was at the door, watching me through the keyhole.

The truly horrifying thing was that I actually was staring at my own face as the realization that he had been watching me for some time took effect on my countenance.

Me. The star of the peep show, "Naked Lying Mother".

Book Recommendation

Yesterday, before and after my much needed nap, I read "Only the Heart Knows How to Find Them - Precious Memories for a Faithless Time", by Christopher de Vinck.

Having read essays of his in the past, I knew from the minute I snatched it up at the thrift store for a mere 25 cents that I would love it. I more than loved it. I feel I owe him for a peaceful afternoon of real rest.

A few of the comments on the book sum it up better than I can:

Henri Nouwen - "...Chris has the unique gift of revealing the beauty of the ordinary, the truth hidden in the small events of life, and the light shining through the brokenness of our daily existence..."

Jim Trelease - "For years I've been reading Chris de Vinck's essays in newspapers, magazines, journals and books. Here at last is de Vinck - father, teacher, dreamer - under one roof! Now, instead of spending all that time photocopying his articles for friends, I can just send the book."

Fred Rogers - "For those of us who believe in the value of the small, the sanctity of the family, and the ultimate importance of the present, Chris de Vinck helps us reconfirm our identity. How grateful I am for his eloquent thoughtfulness."

Madeleine L'Engle - "I have read these essays with great pleasure. De Vinck's point of view about life and love and children and teachers is important for the world...I would like as many people as possible to know his work".

Wendell Berry - "Christopher de Vinck has the insight and the courage to speak for those small devotions, dangerously unfashionable in our time, by which a human community lives."

There. Now you don't have to take MY word for it. Run out and find a copy, you won't be disappointed.

I'm wearing my "I survived graduation week" pin

I survived my busy week. Today is the day that I penciled in a migraine. I like to plan ahead(ache).

Here are some of the highlights:

Everyone arrived safe and sound.

The Husband God Gave Me received fabulous news about his job situation. All is well there.

The graduation luncheon was very nice. The graduation itself was excellent. I really enjoyed it. We had excellent and extremely comfortable seats, due to my daughter-in-law's parents, who arrived early and reserved a row.

Even the openhouse on Sunday afternoon was wonderful. There was a steady amount of guests (being Mother's Day, I was a bit concerned about that).

Best of all was Sunday evening, when it was all over, and I could look back on it and pronounce it 'very good'.

Monday evening I celebrated Mother's Day. Dinner and gift certificates to my favorite thirft store (more 'stuff', here i come!) and from Youngest Son, four antique school chairs for my book themed bedroom.

What a great week. No headache yet.

Stuff

I am a slob. Untidy. Disorganized. Interested in so many other things than dust bunnies and crumbs. I know this because I spent the day cleaning up after myself.

Really, I DO try. But I get overwhelmed with the magnitude of 'stuff' I've accumulated. I get seduced by the TLC show "Clean Sweep". Yet I know how those people feel when they are desperately clinging to some weird looking piece of stuff, weeping. I too want to cling to my stuff.

Looking at my home, you would think that I went through the Great Depression. Not so. But an inner voice whispers deeply to me 'hey...get that...you might need it someday. don't throw that away, you could make something interesting with it...you can NEVER have too many magazines...certainly you know someone who could use that' And the voice drones on.

Years ago, I would have blamed all of the accumulating stuff on having children with a wide variety of interests. But they are gone. And my piles of stuff are ever increasing.

I have a big week this week with out-of-town guests, a college graduation and all that entails. I'm looking forward to all of it. But I am tired. Tired of all the stuff.

Yet, all I want to do is hop in the car and run out to the nearest thrift store. I want to buy books, although I have about 75 still waiting to be shelved. I want more odd pieces of beautiful china, even though I can't even display all that I already have. I want to snatch up all of the strange little pieces of 'embellishments' to add to cards or shadow boxes. I want to buy small wooden boxes to decoupage on. I want to load up on ephemera even though I haven't yet used what I already have. I want more styrofoam heads.

I want... I want... I want...

Houston...we have a problem.

Saturday Morning

It was just me and THGGM for breakfast at Russ' Saturday morning. He had oatmeal (oatmeal...in a restaurant - i just don't get it) I had a fabulous omelet with cheddar cheese, ham, mushrooms, and a side of rye toast.

After breakfast it was on to thrift shopping. He didn't find a thing, but I think I did rather well in the book department!

HAVING OUR SAY - The Delany Sister's First Hundred Years - by Sarah and A. Elizabeth Delany

LAKE WOBEGON SUMMER 1956 - by Garrison Keillor

BENEATH THE SURFACE - Steering Clear of the Dangers That Could Leave You Shipwrecked - by Bob Reccord

ONLY THE HEART KNOWS HOW TO FIND THEM - Precious Memories for a Faithless Time - by Christopher de Vinck

WE ARE YOUR SISTERS - Black Women in the Nineteenth Century - edited by Dorothy Sterling

A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSE - by Robert Louis Stevenson, illustrated by Eulalie (1961)

BIRDS - A Guide to the Most Familiar American Birds - a Golden Nature Guide (1949)

CHOCOLATE FROM THE CAKE MIX DOCTOR - 150 Easy Recipes for Deep, Dark, Delicious Cakes - by Anne Byrn

GIVE ME A BREAK - How I Became the Scourge of the Liberal Media - by John Stossel

No time to read just yet...but I'm adding these to my summer reading pile. Except for the bird book, I think I might be using that to frame the small bird prints, or to decoupage with. Oh, the IDEAS...Ideas...ideas...