Peace. May God give you peace. May you have peace in your day. May peace be in your heart. So much peace, we talk about.
What is peace to you? For me, yesterday, peace was getting church in and my work out. Peace also included cleaning my bathroom counter, vacuuming the house, and scrubbing my blue jay egg blue bathroom toilet. A bonus was getting in a few episodes of LOST (finished Part II of III of 1st season). Aaron and I also contributed to our community by volunteering at the Holly Pride Theatre dinner. By the end of the evening, I remembered why I am so glad that I'm not catering with Bockers II Catering anymore. The smell on your hands and sweat on your brow. Luckily for me and the brood of junior high/high school volunteer servers, we avoided cranky drunk mother of the brides and wasted handsy groomsmen (ahem, weddings in Manhattan). The evening went smooth and the sold out crowd will surely make for a good head start to our $80, 000 goal. But yeah, surely do not miss those long nights at the Alumni Center, clearing plates and refilling drinks, and hiding under tables in hallways. Oh, the good ole days of working during college trying to get peace of mind in the bank account.
It is curious to me, how each of us have different versions of what peace, in our personal lives, consists of. For my mother, when we were growing up, peace for her heart was just that "peace and quiet" in the house. For me, peace was feeling affiliated and having a group to belong with. For Daddy, peace was knowing that he covered all his bases in the field and was prepared for whatever "came down the pipes". Hence, where I earned the control aspect of my personality.
I feel that as my obstacles in life were presented and cleared, peace for me became more centered around what God has in his plan for me. I guess I should rephrase that, peace is my acceptance in what God has planned for me (and Aaron). It's a total surrender of self and will, to what God's will deems. It's a release of what I want or I feel I need, to what God wants or God needs from me. So simple in phrase, yet hard in practice, yes?
Right now, for Mel, peace would be getting that darn baby out of her, so her and Mason can start this new chapter in their lives, as a family of 3. Then, I am sure her peace will revolve around whatever Mom's peace was when we were growing up.
As for Aaron and I, we pray each night that "God gives us peace". I got that idea off another blogger on one of those TTC sites (and if you don't know what TTC means, then you probably don't know what BD is, either. Count yourself lucky). As we continue with our days and I continue teaching to my precious group of kids enrolled in College Psychology at Holly High and then running off to whatever sub call the district needs, we lose that sense of peace. But, given time to center ourselves as a couple following what God wants out of us, we find that peace. It's society that pulls us from that track, from that silent path from Him. And we feel that strain from the Outside World on our marriage and our restless anxious hearts. The trick is to breathe deep and remind ourselves that that anxiety and worry has already been felt before by someone. Someone who truly knows what is best for us and our marriage and this power also knows when the time will truly be right for his blessings. Does knowing this make toughing out hard times automatically easier? Ah, hell no. It does, however, give peace and hope. And that's what having faith is all about; believing in that which you cannot see.
What is peace to you today?
Monday, February 13, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
learn to use the phone.....
Well, oh well. No, I did not lose my sanity out here in southeast Colorado and run screaming into the Buffalo Creek Canal. My life has been busy, because of the new teaching gig I took on at the high school, with their dual-credit College Psychology class. Now, in the evenings instead of reading and losing myself in a book (Oh, Belle of Beauty and the Beast.....), I spend my nights as if I was in graduate school again, reading psychology textbooks. Alas, let me be honest: I never read THIS much in graduate school; I relied on the always-over-achieving-non-traditional-student to do the readings and lead class discussions.
I have really enjoyed this stint, even though I am not rolling in the dough. I still sub, nearly everyday, so the "hats" that I wear on any given day changes. I start out being "teacher" hat, then to elementary pe, making sure kids don't punch each others lights out, while trying to juggle. You think I'm joking, oh but I am serious. And random, in pe, I never remember learning skills. Usually we'd resort to scooters (which I HATED, because I was the chubby kid and trying to find your center of gravity at 10 years old, is hard enough. Thank you very much) or parachutes. Yeah, so no skills really were learned. Kids nowadays, at least here at Holly, are learning "stuff" during pe. And yes, the pe teacher is a close friend of mine, so naturally I'd see things her way. However, the point still stands: she makes them accountable. Where was I going with this?? Oh, yeah. That my days language changes 180 degrees, all the time, and that I've been busy.
I truly enjoy my all-be-it small "career" here in Holly. There really is minimal stress, minus my brief 911 call last week. At my previous place of fabulous employment, you would dial 9-1, then your number. So, naturally, I assume that all life is like Manhattan, duh. Nope. Here at Holly, when you dial 9-1-, then your 1877 number, you reach 911 dispatch. Marvelous. I had meant to call Viarro customer service (because I avoid the office nearest to us, like the black plague), and instead of Viarro, I got "911. What's your emergency?" "Uh, yeah. So, um, my phone won't go to my home screen. And, like, I really need my phone to check my LadyTimer application. So, can you, like, help me with this?" No. I did not bring mortal shame to my family and tell the lovely dispatcher that. I simply hung up, but not before saying that I was trying to reach Viarro Customer Service and I hope that he has a good day. Click.
Yeah, then dispatch called the school and was sending a patrol car out. This was read over the scanner and, yeah, you can guess what happens next in a small town. Needless to say, I was asked next time to stay on the line. And not freak out, like a 5 year caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
So, I reckon the moral of this story, boys and girls, is to be sure to inquire how to use the phones at your new job, if you want to save yourself the embarrassment of having the police almost show up at your job. I feel so safe.
I have really enjoyed this stint, even though I am not rolling in the dough. I still sub, nearly everyday, so the "hats" that I wear on any given day changes. I start out being "teacher" hat, then to elementary pe, making sure kids don't punch each others lights out, while trying to juggle. You think I'm joking, oh but I am serious. And random, in pe, I never remember learning skills. Usually we'd resort to scooters (which I HATED, because I was the chubby kid and trying to find your center of gravity at 10 years old, is hard enough. Thank you very much) or parachutes. Yeah, so no skills really were learned. Kids nowadays, at least here at Holly, are learning "stuff" during pe. And yes, the pe teacher is a close friend of mine, so naturally I'd see things her way. However, the point still stands: she makes them accountable. Where was I going with this?? Oh, yeah. That my days language changes 180 degrees, all the time, and that I've been busy.
I truly enjoy my all-be-it small "career" here in Holly. There really is minimal stress, minus my brief 911 call last week. At my previous place of fabulous employment, you would dial 9-1, then your number. So, naturally, I assume that all life is like Manhattan, duh. Nope. Here at Holly, when you dial 9-1-, then your 1877 number, you reach 911 dispatch. Marvelous. I had meant to call Viarro customer service (because I avoid the office nearest to us, like the black plague), and instead of Viarro, I got "911. What's your emergency?" "Uh, yeah. So, um, my phone won't go to my home screen. And, like, I really need my phone to check my LadyTimer application. So, can you, like, help me with this?" No. I did not bring mortal shame to my family and tell the lovely dispatcher that. I simply hung up, but not before saying that I was trying to reach Viarro Customer Service and I hope that he has a good day. Click.
Yeah, then dispatch called the school and was sending a patrol car out. This was read over the scanner and, yeah, you can guess what happens next in a small town. Needless to say, I was asked next time to stay on the line. And not freak out, like a 5 year caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
So, I reckon the moral of this story, boys and girls, is to be sure to inquire how to use the phones at your new job, if you want to save yourself the embarrassment of having the police almost show up at your job. I feel so safe.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Free will and the struggle
Oh, rules. Rules and regulations and protocol. Each organization, club, community, family, church, school, etc have them. Some of them make sense and are designed to protect and better serve those who rely on them for direction. Some seem pointless and seem to better serve the pocketbook of someone, who is never you. A lesson I learned a long time growing up from my Daddy was that you may not see the lesson in the rule, but that's not the point. You still are going to have to follow, like it or not. And keep your whining to yourself, unless you wanted to endure a harsher punishment.
No matter the age, we still have someone elses' rules to follow and abide by. A particular organization that has rules that I'm struggling to smile through is my beloved Catholic Church. I am sure there is someone somewhere who will read this and instantly connect to the phrase "rules of the Catholic Church" with disgust. We're kind of known for our rules and regulations and protocol. Being Catholic is not a religion, but a lifestyle. And a lot of people find struggle in following our Church, because they don't' like "that rule" or "that teaching". They feel their freedom is being strangled by being told to not eat meat on Fridays during Lent. That's cool for them, however again, I learned that there will never be something that has rules that I'll always 110% agree with.
My marriage to Aaron is my second. My previous marriage was in the Catholic Church and we both were not the best spouses to each other. We both made our mistakes and believed that divorce was the best route for each of us to find true happiness. And I sure as hell found my happiness and can only hope that he found that as well. One little glitch in my dreams of becoming Mrs. Leiker.
In the eyes of the Catholic Church, I was still married. Marriage is a sacrament for those of the Catholic faith (an outward sign, instituted by Christ to give grace, if you're a memorizing kind of person) and it's not as easy as signing a piece of paper in a court room to erase that off your soul. Enter the annulment process and I made the decision to start this long tedious chapter in my life in May 2010. Endless pages of writing testimony and answering personal questions followed by myself listing several witnesses, who were also contacted for their long endless testimony in regards to me and him. The small speed bump of the refusal by him, his family, and his friends to participate only lengthened the process, because apparently by applying for the annulment meant that I was needing to "get over it" and he didn't want to have anything to do with it. Ahem, yes. That was WHY I had started the process, thank you very much. However, that was his freewill (thank you God for that blessed gift way back when....) to participate and he chose not to.
It is now 2012 and we have yet to have the official word from the Salina Diocese. It's been a long roller coaster of emotions, frustrations, bafflement, and anger. Aaron and I did not want to wait to get married, because we could not be given an exact guarantee that the annulment would be through by a certain time. And thank God we didn't wait to become married, or we'd still be waiting. We made the decision to become married by a judge last July and that decision had a stingy ripple effect through the waves of my extended family. Many members refused to celebrate our marriage, because it was not in the Catholic Church. Oh well, that was one less Thank You Aaron had to sign and I had to write. And don't forget the 44 cents we saved. Aaron and I have not participated in Holy Communion since the Sunday prior to our wedding, because "we are living in sin" since we live together and are not married through the sacrament of marriage. I teach catechism for junior high and explained to my kids why I don't receive Communion and only cross my chest for a blessing. And I am honest and blunt when asked. I have a mortal sin on my soul and that is no environment for the Body of Christ. It burns when I hear people testify that they do not attend the Catholic Church, because they just don't agree with "all those rules". Those rules probably did not personally affect them as they have me. They just hate to be told what to do and they think the Church is outdated and old fashioned and the Church needs to "catch up" with the times. Why should a Church have to mold itself to society?! Irony.
I am proud to be a practicing Catholic. No, I do not agree with the annulment process and the cost that I will be graciously levied to pay when the annulment verdict is delivered. No, I did not enjoy the hurt that I felt when my family chose to avoid my wedding, because they did not agree with the location. No, I do not enjoy not being able to fully participate in Mass on Sunday. However, it was my free will to get married outside the Church. Just as it is the free will of fallen away Catholics to choose not to follow the Church. And some of those fallen away Catholics are close friends and family to me and some of my friends are not (gasp) Catholic. Oh my word, how do I function?!
Rules. You will fail to avoid them. And all the hot air you blow venting and steaming and fuming over having to follow them is wasted. But one thing you have to decide everyday when you wake up, is what your priorities are and if you'll follow through with those today.
You have the free will. Use it. Just make sure what you do follows those priorities you agree to in the morning.
And you can bet your lucky 2011 penny that the moment (or the next Saturday) we have the annulment granted, Aaron and I will have our marrige blessed at our church in Holly with our close family present. And we'll be able to enjoy deeper the celebration of Mass on Sundays and will have a greater gratitude for the Church and the sacrament of marriage.
No matter the age, we still have someone elses' rules to follow and abide by. A particular organization that has rules that I'm struggling to smile through is my beloved Catholic Church. I am sure there is someone somewhere who will read this and instantly connect to the phrase "rules of the Catholic Church" with disgust. We're kind of known for our rules and regulations and protocol. Being Catholic is not a religion, but a lifestyle. And a lot of people find struggle in following our Church, because they don't' like "that rule" or "that teaching". They feel their freedom is being strangled by being told to not eat meat on Fridays during Lent. That's cool for them, however again, I learned that there will never be something that has rules that I'll always 110% agree with.
My marriage to Aaron is my second. My previous marriage was in the Catholic Church and we both were not the best spouses to each other. We both made our mistakes and believed that divorce was the best route for each of us to find true happiness. And I sure as hell found my happiness and can only hope that he found that as well. One little glitch in my dreams of becoming Mrs. Leiker.
In the eyes of the Catholic Church, I was still married. Marriage is a sacrament for those of the Catholic faith (an outward sign, instituted by Christ to give grace, if you're a memorizing kind of person) and it's not as easy as signing a piece of paper in a court room to erase that off your soul. Enter the annulment process and I made the decision to start this long tedious chapter in my life in May 2010. Endless pages of writing testimony and answering personal questions followed by myself listing several witnesses, who were also contacted for their long endless testimony in regards to me and him. The small speed bump of the refusal by him, his family, and his friends to participate only lengthened the process, because apparently by applying for the annulment meant that I was needing to "get over it" and he didn't want to have anything to do with it. Ahem, yes. That was WHY I had started the process, thank you very much. However, that was his freewill (thank you God for that blessed gift way back when....) to participate and he chose not to.
It is now 2012 and we have yet to have the official word from the Salina Diocese. It's been a long roller coaster of emotions, frustrations, bafflement, and anger. Aaron and I did not want to wait to get married, because we could not be given an exact guarantee that the annulment would be through by a certain time. And thank God we didn't wait to become married, or we'd still be waiting. We made the decision to become married by a judge last July and that decision had a stingy ripple effect through the waves of my extended family. Many members refused to celebrate our marriage, because it was not in the Catholic Church. Oh well, that was one less Thank You Aaron had to sign and I had to write. And don't forget the 44 cents we saved. Aaron and I have not participated in Holy Communion since the Sunday prior to our wedding, because "we are living in sin" since we live together and are not married through the sacrament of marriage. I teach catechism for junior high and explained to my kids why I don't receive Communion and only cross my chest for a blessing. And I am honest and blunt when asked. I have a mortal sin on my soul and that is no environment for the Body of Christ. It burns when I hear people testify that they do not attend the Catholic Church, because they just don't agree with "all those rules". Those rules probably did not personally affect them as they have me. They just hate to be told what to do and they think the Church is outdated and old fashioned and the Church needs to "catch up" with the times. Why should a Church have to mold itself to society?! Irony.
I am proud to be a practicing Catholic. No, I do not agree with the annulment process and the cost that I will be graciously levied to pay when the annulment verdict is delivered. No, I did not enjoy the hurt that I felt when my family chose to avoid my wedding, because they did not agree with the location. No, I do not enjoy not being able to fully participate in Mass on Sunday. However, it was my free will to get married outside the Church. Just as it is the free will of fallen away Catholics to choose not to follow the Church. And some of those fallen away Catholics are close friends and family to me and some of my friends are not (gasp) Catholic. Oh my word, how do I function?!
Rules. You will fail to avoid them. And all the hot air you blow venting and steaming and fuming over having to follow them is wasted. But one thing you have to decide everyday when you wake up, is what your priorities are and if you'll follow through with those today.
You have the free will. Use it. Just make sure what you do follows those priorities you agree to in the morning.
And you can bet your lucky 2011 penny that the moment (or the next Saturday) we have the annulment granted, Aaron and I will have our marrige blessed at our church in Holly with our close family present. And we'll be able to enjoy deeper the celebration of Mass on Sundays and will have a greater gratitude for the Church and the sacrament of marriage.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
butterscotch schnapps
The past few nights, the Leiker family household has been enjoying classic black and white holiday movies: Holiday Inn and It's a Wonderful Life. This added to the "By Kansas standards Blizzard, by Colorado standards A lot of Snow" conditions outside, it definitely has helped the Christmas warm and fuzzy feelings. We woke up this morning to major drifts outside, as in no-way-are-we-getting-out-of-our-driveway-for-the-next-few-days. I remember growing up and when we did have "major" snow storms, Mom would dress us up in our rag-tag of snow ski pants (hand me downs or Goodwill discoveries) and gleefully send us outside with strict instructions to find all the drifts (ie: I did not plan for this snow day and you girls being inside this house yelling and tearing at each other, is killing me. So, how about you try killing yourselves outside and give your mother some peace. OK? Great. Fabulous. GO!). The sad thing is, after 20 minutes of being outside, I was "over it" and the snow wasn't that cool. Besides, these were the few days that Mom would allow us to have hot chocolate (with Always Save MARSHMALLOWS) and I wanted my watered-down hot chocolate, darn it. Even if there was two inches of snow, she probably did still send us out. I can't communicate how much my sisters (specifically Mel and I) pushed each others buttons. My strong, strong mother. And to think, the girl doesn't drink or swear.
While I am positive there are mothers in Southeast Colorado who are lively cursing the snow and looking for their bottles of Merlot wine, because their kids are at each others throats, I am enjoying the peace and quiet of the slow drips of water melting off our roof. The twinkle of the Christmas lights (and actively dreading the electric bill for this month, since my husband believes that Christmas without lights on the inside and outside is sacrilegious) and the efforts of our neighbor and his 4960 to move the snow from County Road JJ are the only things going on in our lives today. We'll probably venture outside and try to sled with our laundry baskets, but since I don't have my rag-tag ski pants and gloves, my clothes will get drenched and I'll be "over it" in 20 minutes. I could wrap my remaining Christmas gifts (for my nephew and Aaron) or repaint my nails. But before that, I need to make sure I have enough scotch tape, since my form of wrapping is 90% scotch tape and 10% misjudging the wrapping paper scissor lines. Which is why I am ecstatic that my husband loves wrapping, as in he wishes I'd let him blow our budget on bows and ribbons.
So on this day of avoiding cabin fever, I am hoping that our car is able to maneuver a way out before Christmas in Kansas and that we do not run out of butterscotch schnapps. Hmmm, maybe THAT was why Mom wanted us out of the house on snow days: butterscotch schnapps. Smart woman.
While I am positive there are mothers in Southeast Colorado who are lively cursing the snow and looking for their bottles of Merlot wine, because their kids are at each others throats, I am enjoying the peace and quiet of the slow drips of water melting off our roof. The twinkle of the Christmas lights (and actively dreading the electric bill for this month, since my husband believes that Christmas without lights on the inside and outside is sacrilegious) and the efforts of our neighbor and his 4960 to move the snow from County Road JJ are the only things going on in our lives today. We'll probably venture outside and try to sled with our laundry baskets, but since I don't have my rag-tag ski pants and gloves, my clothes will get drenched and I'll be "over it" in 20 minutes. I could wrap my remaining Christmas gifts (for my nephew and Aaron) or repaint my nails. But before that, I need to make sure I have enough scotch tape, since my form of wrapping is 90% scotch tape and 10% misjudging the wrapping paper scissor lines. Which is why I am ecstatic that my husband loves wrapping, as in he wishes I'd let him blow our budget on bows and ribbons.
So on this day of avoiding cabin fever, I am hoping that our car is able to maneuver a way out before Christmas in Kansas and that we do not run out of butterscotch schnapps. Hmmm, maybe THAT was why Mom wanted us out of the house on snow days: butterscotch schnapps. Smart woman.
Friday, December 16, 2011
is it all about the benjamins, baby?
I love to read and always have. Growing up, it was the Baby Sitters Club, Sweet Valley High, Boxcar Children (I never did quite grasp that possibility that these kids were homeless in a boxcar and didn't turn out in juvenile lock up), Mary Higgins Clark, Nancy Drew, and various other authors. If you ask me today "What sort of books do you ready?" I'd answer historical fiction. I do not like "fluff" books, anymore (Sorry twins Elizabeth and Jessica ie: Sweet Valley High) and will never ever read Twilight or Harry Potter. And absolutely "No" to anything science fiction or books whose plots are no way believable. I feel that reading is a past time that todays generation is missing out on, sorely. Reading improves comprehension and your general knowledge of words that are not common. You'd be amazed at how horrible reading comprehension is with todays kids. When I am reading a book, I get to leave small town America and am transferred to a different time and place. It's a whole new world (ignore the urge to start singing Disney show tunes).
The book I am reading now is by Tom Brokaw "The Greatest Generation" and it's a.ma.zing. Not only when you're reading it do you feel that you can hear his voice (again, a.ma.zing voice) reading to you, but the content is easy to follow. Brokaw sat down and had conversations with those young men and women who lived through WWII. These contributors had various backgrounds and callings during the War. Some were on the home front, while others were in the heat of battle. If you want a strong smack in the face as to what reality was for our grandparents, read this book. You want to feel like a schmuck for getting upset when your credit cards are taken away (thank you Daddy, 5 years ago) or anytime that you whined about a little w o r k, enjoy this book. A common theme found in a lot of the conversations with this men and women is a hesitation in the future of our country. I would argue that they were the greatest generation, hands down. However, when it comes to my generation and the one following, I share their hesitation. 110% The bond of values and honesty have taken a back seat to loss of morals and lying to get by. "How will I benefit from this? How much money can I make? What is the bare minimum that I can do to get by?" Disgusting. Embarrassing. And sadly, becoming the norm.
The point of this post is not to bash and insult my generation and the following one. I know there are issues with the kids now and perhaps we're all to blame for this lax sense of responsibility that we are letting them benefit from. When I was at K-State, I tried to install some sort of accountability with my students and many times, that "meanness" was met with dismay from the Deans Office, as all it took was a kids parent to call and complain and the situation, even when the blame was the precious childs, was absolved. The second, the very moment, we allow money to dictate our ethics and morals, we have already lost in the race.
I was facing a debate between money and happiness these past few weeks. I could take option A and have a steady income flowing in for Aaron and I; what was left from our debts would be dealt with before harvest. However, option A would take me from the schools here, which has been a strong source of happiness for me since moving. I adore these kids. I see the unbelievable potential they house in their futures and how it just takes a little care and commitment for it to shine. Option B would keep me with the students and Holly, but not making as much money. However, I'd be closer to home and my community. My community. The community that I am invested in.
No, we're not the greatest generation. And God forbid we are attacked the way the Japanese attacked that day in December. However, if we all took the time to give back to our communities and not worry about the bottom line in our checkbooks, could we have this next generation be a great generation? Put your money where your mouth is.
I chose Option B. It's my way of giving back to a community that will give me and my family a solid foundation. And I can teach College Psychology to a great group of kids that have no idea what they're in for. And to be honest, neither do I.
God bless America. Let's earn it.
The book I am reading now is by Tom Brokaw "The Greatest Generation" and it's a.ma.zing. Not only when you're reading it do you feel that you can hear his voice (again, a.ma.zing voice) reading to you, but the content is easy to follow. Brokaw sat down and had conversations with those young men and women who lived through WWII. These contributors had various backgrounds and callings during the War. Some were on the home front, while others were in the heat of battle. If you want a strong smack in the face as to what reality was for our grandparents, read this book. You want to feel like a schmuck for getting upset when your credit cards are taken away (thank you Daddy, 5 years ago) or anytime that you whined about a little w o r k, enjoy this book. A common theme found in a lot of the conversations with this men and women is a hesitation in the future of our country. I would argue that they were the greatest generation, hands down. However, when it comes to my generation and the one following, I share their hesitation. 110% The bond of values and honesty have taken a back seat to loss of morals and lying to get by. "How will I benefit from this? How much money can I make? What is the bare minimum that I can do to get by?" Disgusting. Embarrassing. And sadly, becoming the norm.
The point of this post is not to bash and insult my generation and the following one. I know there are issues with the kids now and perhaps we're all to blame for this lax sense of responsibility that we are letting them benefit from. When I was at K-State, I tried to install some sort of accountability with my students and many times, that "meanness" was met with dismay from the Deans Office, as all it took was a kids parent to call and complain and the situation, even when the blame was the precious childs, was absolved. The second, the very moment, we allow money to dictate our ethics and morals, we have already lost in the race.
I was facing a debate between money and happiness these past few weeks. I could take option A and have a steady income flowing in for Aaron and I; what was left from our debts would be dealt with before harvest. However, option A would take me from the schools here, which has been a strong source of happiness for me since moving. I adore these kids. I see the unbelievable potential they house in their futures and how it just takes a little care and commitment for it to shine. Option B would keep me with the students and Holly, but not making as much money. However, I'd be closer to home and my community. My community. The community that I am invested in.
No, we're not the greatest generation. And God forbid we are attacked the way the Japanese attacked that day in December. However, if we all took the time to give back to our communities and not worry about the bottom line in our checkbooks, could we have this next generation be a great generation? Put your money where your mouth is.
I chose Option B. It's my way of giving back to a community that will give me and my family a solid foundation. And I can teach College Psychology to a great group of kids that have no idea what they're in for. And to be honest, neither do I.
God bless America. Let's earn it.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
home clothes
Home clothes v. nice clothes
When I say "home clothes", I can imagine that visions going through your head. No, I don't mean couture vintage pioneer dresses and lace up black boots. Growing up, we had two distinct categories of clothes. We had home clothes, which consisted of older sweat pants and mismatched shirts from old tee ball teams and junior high basketball camps. We never would wear jeans (those were specifically "nice clothes") at home. Nice shirts? Nope, those were strictly reserved for public outings. Keep in mind that we lived in the country and our only visitors were the Crop Quest guy on Monday mornings and the UPS lady when she delivered whatever farm gadget Daddy had ordered. If it isn't obvious, we had no need to dress to impress on the Ponderosa. And since they were home clothes, there was no need to wash them after wearing them once, even if it was all day. They were worn at home, so what is the purpose in fluffy linen smelling Burrton Recreation tee-ball shirts? No harm in wearing the shirt a couple or several times!
As time has marched on, I have realized that many of the habits that I hated growing up, have somehow trailed me to Holly and my young adult life on the farm. If you were to pop in on me on my Ponderosa, you may be a bit taken back. Right now, I am sporting grey socks, a Sunset Revival 2004 orange-yellow tie-dyed shirt, pink VS sweats (that I have worn for the 3rd day straight), hair is classic poof with no heat applied today void of eye liner, brow color, foundation, or finishing powder. Later today, I'll be heading up north with the boys and I just might wear a shirt with my work jeans that I've worn, wait for it, TWICE.
And through all my lovely homegrown habits, poor Aaron is the one who has to suffer.
I've been known to pull Aarons JEANS that he wears at HOME ONCE from the laundry basket and put them back in his drawer. The only adventure that Aaron does now that it's winter, is to go to town get the mail. So, why the need to put clothes in the wash daily? He's not pulling up irrigation pipes or sweating in a Versatile with a failed air conditioner. My laundry basket is plum full after two days of his jeans and sweatshirts. What's the harm in wearing clothes twice maybe three times, when you're not working hard and sweating? Perhaps I am way too much a product of my upbringing. Or perhaps I'm only try to help save water and energy and not running the washer every other day.
So, if you want a cheap thrill, stop by my Holly Ponderosa to see a possible home clothes masterpiece of fashion proporations. And chuckle at my background, because there's plenty to chuckle about.
When I say "home clothes", I can imagine that visions going through your head. No, I don't mean couture vintage pioneer dresses and lace up black boots. Growing up, we had two distinct categories of clothes. We had home clothes, which consisted of older sweat pants and mismatched shirts from old tee ball teams and junior high basketball camps. We never would wear jeans (those were specifically "nice clothes") at home. Nice shirts? Nope, those were strictly reserved for public outings. Keep in mind that we lived in the country and our only visitors were the Crop Quest guy on Monday mornings and the UPS lady when she delivered whatever farm gadget Daddy had ordered. If it isn't obvious, we had no need to dress to impress on the Ponderosa. And since they were home clothes, there was no need to wash them after wearing them once, even if it was all day. They were worn at home, so what is the purpose in fluffy linen smelling Burrton Recreation tee-ball shirts? No harm in wearing the shirt a couple or several times!
As time has marched on, I have realized that many of the habits that I hated growing up, have somehow trailed me to Holly and my young adult life on the farm. If you were to pop in on me on my Ponderosa, you may be a bit taken back. Right now, I am sporting grey socks, a Sunset Revival 2004 orange-yellow tie-dyed shirt, pink VS sweats (that I have worn for the 3rd day straight), hair is classic poof with no heat applied today void of eye liner, brow color, foundation, or finishing powder. Later today, I'll be heading up north with the boys and I just might wear a shirt with my work jeans that I've worn, wait for it, TWICE.
And through all my lovely homegrown habits, poor Aaron is the one who has to suffer.
I've been known to pull Aarons JEANS that he wears at HOME ONCE from the laundry basket and put them back in his drawer. The only adventure that Aaron does now that it's winter, is to go to town get the mail. So, why the need to put clothes in the wash daily? He's not pulling up irrigation pipes or sweating in a Versatile with a failed air conditioner. My laundry basket is plum full after two days of his jeans and sweatshirts. What's the harm in wearing clothes twice maybe three times, when you're not working hard and sweating? Perhaps I am way too much a product of my upbringing. Or perhaps I'm only try to help save water and energy and not running the washer every other day.
So, if you want a cheap thrill, stop by my Holly Ponderosa to see a possible home clothes masterpiece of fashion proporations. And chuckle at my background, because there's plenty to chuckle about.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
War Horse and aggie ville specials
No, we did not lose Internet connection. Yes, we still have electricity. Of course, we still have running water. I just have been busy the past month with subbing, serving fabulous wine and spirits at our local small town liquor store, and fighting off every damn virus and infection that has entered the doors at Shanner and Holly High School. Holy Mary. First, it was the wonderful sinus infection, that still partly remains, and lately it was a stomach virus that left me clinging to indoor plumbing early Thanksgiving morning. Our priest told Aaron that first year teachers are sick the whole year, as their body is adjusting to the influx of germs. You add that to my clients that I see at the liquor store, and I can bet that I'm exposed to more strains of germs than Lindsay Lohan is at a New Years Eve party at Paris Hiltons. But, God bless the husband, who has been there every moment asking "Is there anything I can do?" (Yes, honey. You can body vacuum my mucus out of my nasal passages and sterilize everything I touched, a week ago). Needless to say, my energy levels have been sub par lately.
However, I keep on living. And buying NyQuill and putting vaseline everywhere on my body.
With the CHRISTas season approaching, it seems so many commercials are slanted towards giving us that holly jolly spirit of buying stupid crap we don't need and making us feel guilty for not buying stupid crap for everyone we encounter on a daily basis (lame). There is one commercial, trailer actually, that brings the tear ducts to life. The movie "War Horse" revolves around a boy who buys a horse that apparently isn't as "umph" as his farm family needs, yet he promises to work him out and make him a strong asset to the farm. An incredibly bond is formed and when the boy is drafted into the service, the horse goes as well (this is where the details get scattered) and somehow they're separated, I think. Anyways, the boy gets back from duty and lo and behold, the horse finds his way back to the farm. It may not tear at your emotional strands by these words, but I promise, it's intense. I feel as though I can relate to the heartache of the horse. Yes, of the horse, because at one point, he was unwanted and people didn't know what to do with him.
When I was pregnant, I lost friends. Friends who didn't know what to do or say to me or how to treat me. We were "so close" in college, because our common connections were being able to rattle off Aggieville specials or enjoying the same sort of television shows or having a deep love for fashion and style. Then, the second after a rough marriage and an unplanned pregnancy, look out. Somehow they disappeared or became incredibly busy with their first-job out of college lives. It stung. Horribly. I was bearing a child, choosing adoption, and the sorting through the pain of a failed marriage. I had a fabulous walking partner/shoe loving friend who was eager to keep me healthy and my mind free. Another GAP bestie who took me in when I needed a place between homes. Another stunning friend I met through the shoe pal, financially gave me breathing room. And I am sure there were others who, in their minds, though they were doing good things for me by leaving me alone. It's human nature to stay away when you don't know what to say in a situation. You assume that by not saying or doing anything, you're doing what the person wants. I can't begin to tell you the times I heard "I'm sorry" over those spirit-testing times. It got old. Frustrating. At the time, I was trying to process so much that was changing in my life, physically and emotionally. There is a bible verse that recites something to the effect of being tested in fire and I feel that those friendships were tested during those times. Many failed. Some passed.
Looking back, though. I am glad those friends decided to bail. It helped me weed out the ones that were true friends, in the grown up sense, from the ones who were friends, in the college fun-times sense. We all have those friends, who were friends for reasons or seasons. And it does take all sorts and types to get us through these times on earth.
However, a word for those of you who know someone who is going through a difficult transition or unplanned event in their course of life. Be there for them and verbally tell them that. Do not assume that they can hear your head rattle and they just know that you're "there" for them. When you're carrying on with your ideal perfect life, check in on them. Just to say "hey" or ask how things are going. Try to avoid "I'm sorry", because it sounds as though you're pitying them and that is the last last last last thing they want to feel, in addition to everything else. Because, when your world is turned upside down and you are trying to process what has happened, the last thing you want to deal with is mind reading. Trust me.
It is what it is. People come into our lives and leave, as quickly as that. The ones we wish would stay away forever, seem to always linger back. But, the stout hearted and strong willed ones, never really leave. Now, that my life has finally (thank the holy Trinity) settled, I am developing strong friendships with women who are the kind that songs and cheesy poems are written about. Christmas gifts are no longer bottles of pricey vodka and PJ sets from GAP, but cook books, kitchen appliances, and home decor. Am I getting old? Nah, well, maybe. But, I never felt so alive and true.
Like a war horse, that has been to hell and back.
However, I keep on living. And buying NyQuill and putting vaseline everywhere on my body.
With the CHRISTas season approaching, it seems so many commercials are slanted towards giving us that holly jolly spirit of buying stupid crap we don't need and making us feel guilty for not buying stupid crap for everyone we encounter on a daily basis (lame). There is one commercial, trailer actually, that brings the tear ducts to life. The movie "War Horse" revolves around a boy who buys a horse that apparently isn't as "umph" as his farm family needs, yet he promises to work him out and make him a strong asset to the farm. An incredibly bond is formed and when the boy is drafted into the service, the horse goes as well (this is where the details get scattered) and somehow they're separated, I think. Anyways, the boy gets back from duty and lo and behold, the horse finds his way back to the farm. It may not tear at your emotional strands by these words, but I promise, it's intense. I feel as though I can relate to the heartache of the horse. Yes, of the horse, because at one point, he was unwanted and people didn't know what to do with him.
When I was pregnant, I lost friends. Friends who didn't know what to do or say to me or how to treat me. We were "so close" in college, because our common connections were being able to rattle off Aggieville specials or enjoying the same sort of television shows or having a deep love for fashion and style. Then, the second after a rough marriage and an unplanned pregnancy, look out. Somehow they disappeared or became incredibly busy with their first-job out of college lives. It stung. Horribly. I was bearing a child, choosing adoption, and the sorting through the pain of a failed marriage. I had a fabulous walking partner/shoe loving friend who was eager to keep me healthy and my mind free. Another GAP bestie who took me in when I needed a place between homes. Another stunning friend I met through the shoe pal, financially gave me breathing room. And I am sure there were others who, in their minds, though they were doing good things for me by leaving me alone. It's human nature to stay away when you don't know what to say in a situation. You assume that by not saying or doing anything, you're doing what the person wants. I can't begin to tell you the times I heard "I'm sorry" over those spirit-testing times. It got old. Frustrating. At the time, I was trying to process so much that was changing in my life, physically and emotionally. There is a bible verse that recites something to the effect of being tested in fire and I feel that those friendships were tested during those times. Many failed. Some passed.
Looking back, though. I am glad those friends decided to bail. It helped me weed out the ones that were true friends, in the grown up sense, from the ones who were friends, in the college fun-times sense. We all have those friends, who were friends for reasons or seasons. And it does take all sorts and types to get us through these times on earth.
However, a word for those of you who know someone who is going through a difficult transition or unplanned event in their course of life. Be there for them and verbally tell them that. Do not assume that they can hear your head rattle and they just know that you're "there" for them. When you're carrying on with your ideal perfect life, check in on them. Just to say "hey" or ask how things are going. Try to avoid "I'm sorry", because it sounds as though you're pitying them and that is the last last last last thing they want to feel, in addition to everything else. Because, when your world is turned upside down and you are trying to process what has happened, the last thing you want to deal with is mind reading. Trust me.
It is what it is. People come into our lives and leave, as quickly as that. The ones we wish would stay away forever, seem to always linger back. But, the stout hearted and strong willed ones, never really leave. Now, that my life has finally (thank the holy Trinity) settled, I am developing strong friendships with women who are the kind that songs and cheesy poems are written about. Christmas gifts are no longer bottles of pricey vodka and PJ sets from GAP, but cook books, kitchen appliances, and home decor. Am I getting old? Nah, well, maybe. But, I never felt so alive and true.
Like a war horse, that has been to hell and back.
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