This little piggy came home!

Today was just an ordinary day. Ben had a doctor appointment this morning, I worked a few hours, and Elijah did some schoolwork. We went out to Yoder's, a Mennonite store about an hour from here where I get my wheat and other whole grains in bulk. They also have a huge assortment of goodies that we don't get unless we go there: mustard pretzels for Abbie, butter pretzel braids, and dark chocolate covered raisins. So we came home with lots of stuff, a fifty-pound bag of hard white wheat, and a serious lust for the awesome Whisper Mill. At $260, it will be just that for a while longer.

After we got back to Fredericksburg, I went to the bank, dropped Elijah off at Leah's school (she needed strong hands to help her turn cello pegs so she could get the instruments tuned), stopped at the auto parts store for my lost rotor button, and ran in Wal-Mart for coffee creamer. Mornings are not happy without it.

It was a completely uneventful, boring-ish day. Just stuff. Same old, same old.

Until I saw this on the counter:


I made this piggy bank when I was 11 or 12 years old. My friend Cathy and I went through a ceramics-making phase that lasted months. Everyone in my family got something—vases, eyeglass holders, bowls—if it could be made, we made it.

My little brother, Tom, has had it all these years (I may have made it for him—I don't remember). Anyway, the little pig made me smile. So I will sit him on my desk and let him remind me to smile often.

What silly thing do you have that makes you smile?

Be thankful ~

Karen

Who needs a bodyguard?

The males in our family have been concerned about keeping undesirable suitors away from the females in our family. They're very protective. But I don't think they have anything to worry about.

Leah tells the story of one young man who repeatedly asked her out, and she finally told him, "(Name hidden to protect the young man's pride), I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last guy on earth."

Alrighty, then.

Then Abbie told me this story yesterday:

She and a few friends were eating dinner in the dining hall when a couple of guys came over and sat down with them. One particularly juvenile male kept pretending his banana was a phone. He would talk a bit, then shove the banana next to someone's ear to make them talk on it. He finally made the mistake of shoving it next to Abbie's ear. She snatched the banana away and held it poised to snap it open.

Juvenile-boy said, "If you open that banana, I'll never speak to you again!"

Abbie said, "Promise?" and shoved half the open banana in her mouth.


I don't think she needs any help.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Wordless Wednesday (almost)

This is what Elijah's team saw the first day:

Up close.

Yeah.

Be thankful ~

Karen

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to . . .

In the interest of explaining how I feel about a certain magazine article, I'll say right up front that it's my 48th birthday. My parents called yesterday to wish me a happy day, and Dad asked, "So how does it feel to be an old woman?"

I answered, "I don't know. I'll let you know when I get there."

I'm not giving in just yet.

So last night I was lying in bed feeding my mind with drivel from the latest Good Housekeeping magazine, when I came across an article featuring a 30-something, a 40-something, and a 50-something. The gist of it was supposed to be learning why these women are happy with where they are at in life.

Jada Pinkett-Smith, 30-something. Married to Will Smith, has to make sure she eats enough so she doesn't lose weight (can you see my eyes rolling?), could pay somebody to blow her nose for her if she wanted to.

Trisha Yearwood, 40-something. Married to Garth Brooks, fame, fortune, ranch, all that stuff.

Meredith Viera, 50-something. Co-anchor of the Today show, fame, fortune, hairdresser and make-up artist, etc.

Give me a break. These people don't live in reality—they represent 1% or less of the population. It doesn't count if you can afford to pay a doctor to make you look great. And do you think they're worried about whether the bathroom is clean when company comes over or if the guys have an ironed shirt for Sunday morning?

I'd like to hear from regular women, like me. Would you? (If you said no, stop reading right now. If you said yes, press on.)

So, Karen, how does it feel to be 48?

Well, Blog, it's not so bad. I'm happily married to a great guy who is taking me to my favorite restaurant for dinner tonight. He's going to put new spark plugs, a distributor cap, and a new rotor button in my car tomorrow, and he's already filled up the coolant in the one I overheated yesterday. What a guy! My boys are helping lay carpet in the church's nursery wing today, and one daughter has some friends from a past mission trip here to visit. Another daughter is away at college doing great, one has a precious grandbaby, and life is just really good.

Karen, what's the best thing about being 48?

You know, I think it's that I've learned to let little things go and focus on the important stuff in life. I know the Saviour, I'm healthy, have a great family, a part-time job I enjoy—what's not to love?

What's the worst thing about being 48?

Hormones are kind of a drag, arthritis in the hands, and the fact that I can't eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's Americone Dream without gaining four pounds.

Well, it sounds like you have a perfect life!

Oh no, not at all. We have challenges like most families—tuition bills, leaky chimneys, cars that overheat—but I don't have to worry about the important things, and I'm very thankful for that.

So what would you say is the secret to being happy at 48?

Be thankful ~

Karen

Random thoughts in photo form from the last few days.

This is what I saw on my way home from Lynchburg. Funny how a picture taken with a cell phone through a rainy windshield while you're driving 50 mph doesn't come out so hot.


This is just wrong. It's ketchup or catsup, not ketsup.



A local bread/pastry company. What does a person have to be thinking to name a company Bimbo?



Be thankful ~

Karen

Aw, do I hafta grow up?

Wednesday Abbie leaves for Liberty U. It will be a sad day around here, but a very good one for her. She's somewhat apprehensive about it for many reasons, but we are sure it's all been orchestrated by the Lord and she is in exactly the right place right now.

She's been trying to see all her friends and spend some special bonding time with them before she leaves. And what do you think college-aged girls do to bond? Go shopping? Out to lunch? Watch a chick flick? Not quite.

They play in the woods.

Boo and Ab sitting in the fort (that's a cow skull next to Boo):

Ab getting ready to carry JNo across the Mighty Po River:

Boo searching desperately for her handsome prince (that's a frog she's about to kiss):

The three of them in the fort:

Don't they look like they're ready for the adult world?

Be thankful ~

Karen

The Bean! (oh, yeah, and his parents)

I saw this picture of Sticky Bean the other day and was shocked at how much it looks like my baby pictures. D&D have a very talented photographer friend who took a bunch of family photos for them a few weeks ago. So, just because I can, here are a few. Aren't they a beautiful family?



What you can't see in most of these is the completely soaked front of Sticky Bean's shirt. At 2 1/2 months, he already drools like he's teething in earnest. We must remember to invest in a lot of bibs!

Be thankful ~

Karen

I think I mentioned a few posts down that Lovely is in Denver at the HSA annual reunion. The event takes place at the Ponderosa (not kidding), and as you know, Denver is in the mountains. Lots of fresh air and trees, sunshine and babbling brooks. And wildlife. Here's her first clue that she's not in Kansas anymore, Toto:

Now, having a bit of experience with bears, I have a two questions:

1. What idiot would approach a bear in the wild? And

2. If it's not ok to leave food in a vehicle, why would I leave a window with a screen open? Do they really think the screen is going to stop a hungry bear?

Somehow I'm not comforted.

Be thankful ~

Karen

Wordless Wednesday, two days late.

Better late than never, right? This is the child who hates his car seat. Screams the instant he gets put in it. Makes every trip to the store a misery. At the beginning of Monday's 12-hour road trip:


Which turned into a 14 1/2 hour ordeal. Poor baby. All that just to come see Grammy. Isn't he precious?

Be thankful ~

Karen

Being a mom is killing me.

I have a house full of teens and young adults, plus a married daughter with a new grandbaby. And it's totally wearing me out.

Last week the marrieds and grandbaby were here, as well as my mother-in-law. Great fun. Not nearly enough sleep.

Elijah, whom I affectionately refer to as man-boy (16 years old) spent the summer in Switzerland painting a small castle (or schlossli) owned by YWAM. He went with Teen Missions International out of Merritt Island, FL. We missed him terribly, though the food bill was significantly smaller. He was due to arrive at Dulles International Airport on Tuesday at 1:42 pm. We loaded up a minivan and a car with family and friends and headed up to Chantilly, about an hour away. Halfway there we were crawling along at 15 mph in very typical DC traffic, and I was banging my head on the steering wheel, kicking myself for not leaving three days early. We know what traffic is like here, and still didn't give ourselves enough time. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I had Mike on the phone at work checking Elijah's flight status. We were praying for a delay. It was probably the only day in the history of United Airlines when a mid-afternoon flight was twenty minutes early. I wanted to cry. Then Mike checked the online traffic reports and found that there was road construction ahead that was causing the delay. Of course! Northern Virginians couldn't have lived one more day without that pothole being filled, even though we all know where it is in the right-third of the middle lane at exit 163 (Lorton). It's the one we've been dodging for at least the five years I've lived here.

The jam finally cleared and we made exceptional time getting the rest of the way to Dulles (yes, I've repented). Pulled into parking spaces, tires squealing, and started running for the terminal. We found him in an almost-empty baggage claim area sitting on his duffle. Abbie saw him first and started running. I started running too, even though I didn't see him. I wondered why Abbie was sprinting toward a strange person, and then realized it was my son, 2 1/2 inches taller and ten pounds thinner, looking like a different person. What happened to the man-boy? God transformed him. Slowly but surely, he's putting away childish things and beginning to think like a man. And it shows on the outside.

We've listened to stories, looked at over a thousand pictures, and thanked God for what He can do with a willing teenager. I'm so thankful he's home.

Then this morning, 21-year-old Leah (whom I affectionately refer to as Lovely) left for Denver and the HSA (Homeschool Alumnae) annual reunion. She says I approved her flight times, but I must not have been paying attention. We left the house at 3 am to get her to Baltimore by 5 for her 6:15 flight. It was a perfect plan until I turned around and had to come home during morning rush hour on the Capital Beltway. Lucky for me, she comes home Sunday night, so there won't be a rush hour. Actually it's Monday morning, 12:45 am. Who makes these plans?

Then Wednesday of next week, Abbie moves into her dorm at Liberty University. We have so. Much. To. Do. Abbie is in denial. I have made twelve lists and can only find four of them.

I need prayer. And sleep.

Be thankful ~

Karen