Have to Get Back Up

I'm so tired. I saw the counselor yesterday and she said she thinks I need a change in meds. My house is a mess. I decided I just had to make an effort to clean it today. I get going, get tired, and find myself sitting back down. So in spurts, I'm making a little progress. I've cleaned off the entertainment center, cleaned off the coffee table and end tables, and dusted all of those. I have a sink full of dishes, three bathrooms to clean, carpets to vacuum, floors to mop. I haven't made my bed from this morning. The only reason I am dressed is that I heard the yard people out front and had to go out and open the back gate for them.
All I want to do is go to bed and pull the covers over my head. Then I feel guilty because there is so much I need to do. My daughter is sick, in the middle of moving. My son is transitioning from his big move. I feel like people need me. My husband needs me. I have cooked one meal this week.
Yesterday, I was determined I was going to get up, shower, put on makeup, get dressed and show up at the therapist's without looking like something the dog drug into her office. I did all that and then almost canceled going because I felt so tired.
I just don't know what's wrong. I usually at least keep my house clean. Now it's just piling up, and as much as it drives me crazy, I just don't care enough to get it all done.
I've got to get it together here.

Nightmare...Again

This is what I dreamed last night.

I was a teenager on a trip with a church group. We went to this huge multi-level building with rooms like hotel rooms, and six of us were assigned a room. This building had curving halls that all looked the same and none of the rooms were numbered. We got in our room, I found my bed, and put down my things.

The next day, everyone goes out, and when I go out, I realize I don't have a key to get back into the room. I've also left everything but my purse in the room. I can't find anyone that was in my group.

I go to the information desk and am told since I don't know the room number, they can't give me a key. She did say there was an extra bed with another group in another room if I wanted that. I get in there, and you can tell those girls did not want me there. I go to bed with no one speaking to me. The next evening when I come back to go to bed, another girl has put her things on my bed. I actually tell her it's ok. I'll sleep on the end of the bed. She says no, it's her bed. The other girls say they know her, she came late, and it's her bed because she is with their group.

Now I have no place to stay, and only my purse. I go into a snack bar, go to the counter, and ask if there is someplace I can use the phone. The guy behind the counter points to a telephone right behind me on the wall. I dig through my bag, find my wallet, get out a quarter, put my wallet back into my bag, and turn to use the phone. I can't remember anyone's phone number to call. I realize all my numbers are in my cell phone which I don't have. Then I turn back around to find the guy at the counter walking away and I notice my wallet is lying out of my bag, open on the counter, and all my money is gone. Now I'm frantic and I wake up feeling like I've been beaten up all night.

I have a version of this dream several nights a week. Once I was on a cruise ship with my family and got separated from them and couldn't get into my room. Once I was in my house but there were so many people I couldn't walk. Once I was being run out of a hotel room and couldn't find all my things to get them together to leave.
The therapist says this is my body's way of handling anxiety. I have no idea. All I know is it would be nice to go to sleep and dream of something peaceful and pleasant. Instead of this crap.

We took my granddaughter to see my dad. I call him Daddy (It's a Southern thing.) My kids call him Papa. So here is Papa and my daughter in 1978.


This is my dad and my granddaughter in 2008.

When It Rains, Get Out the Buckets

Life Lesson: Never say it's been a long and tiring week on Wednesday. You have then only begun a longer and more tiring week.

My friend brought seven of her children over yesterday. We played with them, ordered in pizza, watched the animal channel, and had a really good time. A couple of hours into it, her older son called and had been in an accident with a saw, cut into the end of his finger, and wanted her to meet him at the ER. I kept the kids. So hours later, he was put back together, but in a lot of pain. She was frantic (she found out her divorce was final and this happened on the same day), and she was worn out. I, who am used to mostly total solitude, was almost in a coma state by the time she picked up all the kids. ha. Then, she gets home to find out another friend has left her husband and has been camped out in her driveway all day waiting for her to get home so she can stay with her.
Life is too ironic to make all this up.

My husband arrived home as the last children were going out the front door. I'm standing there, my hair a mess, the house a mess, no dinner made, too comatose to talk. He looks over the situation and says, "Why don't I make us a sandwich?" You gotta love 'em.

I finished reading The Book Thief yesterday. I know I say this often, but this really WAS the best book I've ever read. I want to go back and start on it again today. I will say, cover art means a lot to me, even though I buy my books as Ebooks on Kindle. If I don't like the cover, I probably won't even read more about the book. Several people had mentioned The Book Thief to me, and it was one of my book club selections this month. I hated the cover. It looked like one of those cheapo books you find at the dollar store in a cardboard bin. However, I bought it. Whoever said don't judge a book by it's cover was right.

The therapist said I need to start judging how my "emotional strength" or "ego strength" is doing on a scale of 1-10. Well, I now know babysitting seven children puts me at a 0. Now if I could just figure out what a 10 is, I'd have some point of reference. And my friend said she's living at some negative number on her emotional strength scale, so we can't figure out how to judge that one. Poor thing. One good thing did come out of her day, though. The judge declared her *&%#@ ex is going to have to sell his house to pay her the more than 30K in back child support he owes her. He's not too happy. :-)

Giraffes and Floods

Long week and it's only Wednesday. I kicked up the secret shopping this month, so I can have some extra to save for a trip to see my son in Seattle later this year. So I've been getting up really early to do breakfast shops.

Then I have the twins three days a week for homeschool. That part is going well. They are very quiet and polite. I'm working very hard to make them very comfortable, but their mom said they are just very quiet. As twins, they talk a lot, but only to each other, in private. I bought a magnetic poetry game they seem to like, to use in their English study. I also got a software disc called Math for the Real World by Davidson that was one of the favorites of my students when I had the tutoring center. It's a hippie band traveling around and you do word-type problems to help them along the tour.

I am still sick, and sick of being sick. This is my sixth (?) round of antibiotics. My lungs still sound like rice krispies. I'm on 4000 mg of Augmentin per day. I'm ready for this to be over!

I'm losing weight. The doctor is very happy. I was stuck for several weeks but it's picked back up again. I still drink way too many diet drinks and not enough water. Oh well. I can't give up candy and diet drinks. My life has to have some vices!

I've always wanted a pair of boots. I see all these fashion shows on tv with cute boots, and through the last several years, I've ordered many pairs I had to end up sending back. You see, I had fat calves. Yep, more like cows than calves. And those darn boot were always too tight.

But the boots I ordered in the mail that got lost with the loose label mix up ( I think I blogged about that, didn't I?) ended up showing up from the lost post office division. Since I've lost some weight, I was hopeful, but fearful. I let those boots sit here on the couch in the box for three days afraid to try on yet another pair and have them not fit my cows. But guess what. They do. In fact, they are LOOSE. I love them. I HAVE BOOTS! And they are CUTE.

I am still seeing the therapist. Yesterday, I had one of those light bulb moments. She finally made me realize that I only care what people think, that I only let them push my buttons or hurt my feelings, etc....IF I SOMEHOW BELIEVE WHAT THEY ARE SAYING ABOUT ME IS TRUE.

So it's not what they say, or what I think they are thinking...it's what I'm thinking about myself. It's the filters in my brain I run things through. I hope this makes sense as I write this because this was such a HUGE deal with me. If you tell me, I'm fat, I'm going to get my feelings hurt, because in my mind, I say, "They are right. I am fat. I am SO fat. I look like a whale. IT must be these jeans, I knew I shouldn't have worn them. They make my butt look huge" etc etc.

But if you say, "God, you are so tall. You are so tall, you must feel like a giant giraffe!" Now my mind thinks, "Hey, you bit*h, I am not tall. I'm only 5'5". That's normal. You obviously are nuts. I'm fine." And I go about my day.

So changing how I feel about me, changes the way I react to others. Aren't you proud of me. It only took YEARS of therapy to "get" that.

My son is moving the 27th to Seattle. He's going to be staying with us three days in between them taking his furniture and his flight. I told the therapist I was afraid I'd cry when he left and I didn't want to make him feel badly about going. She said she cries everytime her son leaves for Oklahoma, and that it's FINE to cry. It's FINE to let him know I will miss him. I just have to keep telling myself that. If you hear about flood warnings in the South, you'll know what happened.

Baby's Crawling and I'm Teaching

My granddaughter is crawling! Here's her latest video.
I found a low carb pizza recipe, and it's become our favorite. The "crust" is baking as we speak. Tonight's selection is cheese and pepperoni. I don't feel like taking the time to separately cook the Italian sausage, but we usually put that on it, too.
My friend, D, met me at Target this morning to pick up the breakfast food I had from my secret shopping. Her kids love the hash browns. When she got there, one of her daughter's was in the car crying her eyes out. My friend homeschools her children, and her eighth grade twins were enrolled at a program three days a week at a woman's house that teaches some of the more advanced subjects. Well, evidently this lady has extremely strict rules (she does it free so she's entitled to) and believes in the one strike, you're out policy. This little girl took her cell phone with her, which is not against the rules as long as it is turned off. However, it is against the rules to have it on her desk, which she did,while she was getting her things from her backpack. So out she goes.
I told them to come by and we'd figure it out. I told her I would teach them three mornings a week, which is what the other lady was doing. The only problem is the other lady supplied the books, and took them back. I have all the math books from the time I had the tutoring center so we had that part covered. My friend, D, has a history curriculum. The girls were taking Spanish, so I ordered that software and workbooks. Thank goodness, I had one year of Spanish and they are in the beginnner stages so I can learn with them. Now we're trying to get together the Earth Science, History, Government, etc. I have a lot of books we can use for literature. I also thought I'd start the girls with a journal doing some creative writing for use on grammar, spelling, etc.
I'm looking forward to it. The girls are so sweet.

Big Dreams and Snow Cream!

My middle son got the job offer on the job in Seattle, and it sounds good. Chances are he will take it. Of course, I have very mixed feelings. I'm happy for him and sad for me. But, as with all things involved with being a mother, I want him to be happy. If he's not happy, I won't be either. I can deal a lot easier with my emptier nest than him not fulfilling this dream he has for himself to get out of this state and live somewhere totally different.

My kids tell me I only like living here because I haven't lived anywhere else, at least not anywhere more than 150 miles or so from here. But there are definite things I like about living here. For one, mild winters and mild summers.

We are expecting one to three inches of snow tonight and into tomorrow morning. Snow is a fun thing in Alabama. The weather announcers broadcast it, people make mad dashes to the grocery, the grocery shelves quickly empty out, check out lines grow to enormous proportions, and then we go home, settle in, and watch for the snow. If it does actually show up, which is always iffy, then the businesses close, schools close, roads close, and people stay home. People who move here from the Northern states are always shocked. "They closed everything for a light dusting of snow and a little ice?" Well, we don't get that snow and ice often enough to have all the snow equipment needed (or the extra personnel) to keep roads cleared. I've only seen a salt truck once or twice in my life and that was to de-ice a bridge on the interstate. No, snow in Alabama means you stay home, make big pots of soup or chili, light the fire, make hot chocolate, play with the kids, read, and get cozy. And the best part? When it melts off, as it does quickly, life slowly goes back to normal and we probably won't get snow again for years.

Oh, and we always make SNOW CREAM.

SNOW CREAM RECIPE

You mix whole milk with sugar until it is sweet like ice cream (or use one can Sweetened Condensed Milk)
Add a dash of salt and a capful of vanilla flavoring.
Mix well.
Then go out and get a big pan of clean snow.
Scoop big spoonfuls of snow into the milk mixture until it's the consistency of ice cream.
Then invite all the neighbors over and eat. The extra keeps well in the freezer.

As for summer, I never appreciated mild summers until I visited my mother-in-law in Phoenix in October of 2003 and it was 112 degrees. She doesn't think much of air conditioners and it's the closest I've come to sweating to death. I don't like to sweat. Maybe it's the Southern belle part of me, but when someone says aerobic or elevateD heart rate, my first thought is "Yeah, right" and how to get out of there as quickly as possible. When I think of exercising, my body says, "You do it Bitch, you die."

I also like living here because it's got all the things you'd ever want to see as far as art museums, ballet, symphonies, Space and Rocket Museum, Space Camp, etc, but still has a home-town feel. I once asked my dad to show me how to change a flat tire. He laughed and said, "You live in Alabama, honey. All you have to do is stop the car and some guy will change it for you." In 51 years, that's never failed to be true. They also open doors, and the younger ones say, "Yes, Ma'am" and "No, Ma'am." I even had a young man in his prom tux stop to help me with a stalled engine once at night. And once he got my car started, he and his girlfriend followed me and the kids to make sure we got home alright.

I like to visit other places. Travel is one of my favorite things to do. But I always want to come back home. I mean, what other state can you walk into any restaurant and order tea and it automatically comes sweetened in a tall glass with ice, which is refilled automatically every time it gets half full. I practically had to sell my soul in London to get two cubes of ice in a tiny glass of Coke. And I can order grits or turnip greens or pinto beans or cornbread and no one looks at me funny, except my husband. He'd rather have a burrito than any of that stuff any day. But that's the Arizona in him. He can't help it. Bless his heart.

Can Someone Fail Therapy?

As I said in previous posts, I'm reading Self Matters by Dr. Phil. I reached the part where I was suppose to list my life's defining moments. I had thirty of them when I finished, some good, some bad. The therapist wanted us to discuss them together. I took the list and went to see her on Tuesday. I looked it over before I went in, thinking of what I wanted to say about each thing. I was preparing for what felt like a test. What if I listed something that when I recounted it, sounded so trivial? What if she thought I shouldn't have put that on there? What if I didn't do it right? This is how my mind works. Got to do it right or else. Or else what?

So I figured we've got an hour, thirty things...I can whiz through this in no time. But of course, she had other ideas. I would tell her what happened, in a very few sentences (I kept thinking keep this brief!) For example, when I was five, and my mom left me in a parking lot while she ran into a store (It was a pretty common thing in those years.) A man pulled up in a pickup truck in front of our car, opened his door, and exposed and fondled himself. I freaked, crawled into the floorboard and hid until my mom came back. I was crying. That's all I remember.

Then the counselor would say how did you feel? I'd written a few of those words besides each one, knowing that would be a definite question she would ask me. So I'd say, "Scared, confused, etc." Then she would say, "Tell me how it feels to feel scared when you're five. Huh? I wasn't prepared for that. I had no answer for her. "What did your mom say when she got back and you were hiding in the floorboard crying?" I had no idea.

We went over five of my thirty things in our hour of therapy time. I felt like I moved too slowly because I didn't know the right answers. How messed up is that?

So I guess I don't get the purpose of all this. At the same time, it makes me very uncomfortable to have to go back and do this again next week, considering at this rate, this could take quite a few weeks to finish. I feel like I'd get an F in therapy. Or at least a D. So maybe I can get perfect attendence. And I know how messed up that is.

I'm craving chocolate so badly today I just want to run out and grab a huge hot fudge sundae and pig out. No, I'm not going to do it. I can't afford to undo what I've lost just to have a little comfort. A nap maybe. At least that won't make me fatter.

Cutie, Clinton, Cleaning, and Cashew Chicken

I drove up to TN to stay with my granddaughter while my daughter and son-in-law went to an office party. She has a tooth! She's trying so hard to crawl. She gets up on her hands and then pushes wayyyy up on her toes. Then she tries to tuck a leg under to get into a sitting position. I told my daughter she may not crawl, she may just get to a sitting position, get up and take off walking.
I also taught her to say "Da-da" but we had to video it because she got performance anxiety when Da-da actually got home and we tried to coax her to say it.
She loved her granny just fine until her mama left and she figured out all Granny had to offer was a bottle, a cup, and baby food. She is a nursing baby and none of that compared to what Mama had, so she got ticked off. We did have a good time playing, walking, and trying to get her attention on other things besides being mad. She loves to look in the mirror, watch the ceiling fan spin, watch commercials, and try to grab my glasses. I kept trying to tell her a blind Granny would not make a good babysitter! She's a doll.

Then when they got back, I drove on home. My husband had TIVO'd all the usual shows, like Biggest Loser, etc. He was scrolling through the list asking what I wanted to watch. "ARE YOU KIDDING? Turn on the primary results!" The math major in me spent the next two hours telling him, "She's 8 thousand ahead, she's 11 thousand ahead, she's 15 thousand ahead, 22 thousand ahead, 35....etc..." He's over there smiling, because he thinks McCain will beat her anyway. Not me. I think she can pull this off.

So what I did I do today? I ordered me a Vote Hillary 2008 t-shirt to wear around here. I wonder if he'll still want to hug and kiss me with Hillary on my chest? ha ha.

Day before yesterday, our dog started going nuts, which means one of two things, either the postman is on the porch or the UPS truck is coming up our road. Turned out to be the postman and he had a huge box he dumped on our porch and drove away. It's a big red ottoman from the Country Store, very nice, and not mine! It had a clear label in plastic saying this was suppose to go to some nice lady in Tennessee. Then, over on the side, was a torn, wrinkled, peeling label with my name on it barely hanging onto the side of the box. I called the PO and told them this is not mine, but the label on it is for some boots I ordered, so what's the chance they will ever be delivered with out a label? The postmaster was not amused. He just said to put it on the porch and they'd come get it.

I did. It rained all day. I tucked it as far under the porch as possible. I came home last night. Box still there. I tugged the damp box back inside. Guess I'll call them again today and say please come get this ottoman! Some poor woman in Tennessee is going through red ottoman cravings and here it sits in my house where red would match nothing! And I want my BOOTS!

This has been almost as interesting as the dryer I bought from Sears a few years ago, and the delivery dryer brought a range instead of a dryer. I said, "I need to dry clothes, not cook." The guy stood there awhile and said in his best redneck drawl, "Welllllll, Maaa-ammmm, if you don't turrrrnnnn it up too high, you might could dry 'em in thurrrr." I was not amused, especially since I had taken off work that day to get the delivery. My boss was even less amused when I had to take off another day to get my dryer.

My friend, Dawn, came and cleaned my house yesterday. She needed the money and I was tired of chasing dust bunnies around the house with a stick. So today it smells so good and I don't want to mess anything up. Think that's a good enough reason to get out of making dinner tonight? Naw, my husband probably wouldn't go for that either.

Although I do love the Kohler commercials where the lady won't use her new kitchen sink because her Kohler is such a work of art she won't put dishes under it. I usually use the "Man, I'm craving Chinese tonight. Will you pick some up?" My husband says, "Sure, honey." That translates into, "Yeah, I figure you've been sitting on your butt, either on the computer or your Kindle e-reader all day,,and you forgot about dinner until just now, and the best you could come up with was a Chinese craving, but oh well...." He's such a sweetheart.

But you know.....Chinese does sound awfully good today....Wonder how many carbs are in Cashew Chicken?

Racing, Ruthless, and Rodeos

My husband had his usual every other Friday off this past one, so he had a long weekend. We heard that there would be another huge children's consignment sale on Saturday, so we decided to get up early and go. They have this twice a year. It is held in a huge warehouse and moms from all over the community can come and sell their baby through teenager's clothing, shoes, toys, strollers, cribs, etc. etc. The key is to get their early, bring your own tote or clothes basket to hold your items, and don't be afraid to push your way through the crowds.

It started at nine and we got there at eight. It would have been nice to have thought of bringing folding chairs for the long wait, but we didn't, or to have been lucky enough to have the slow snaking line of people in the sun, but it wasn't. Anyway, we were number five in line. We discussed our strategy before we went in. I told him I want a glider rocker and ottoman. It must not squeak, be ripped or stained, or cost over $50. Also our granddaughter needs sleepers, size 12 months.

They opened the door and off we went. I spotted a glider rocker with beige cushions for 40 bucks. I grabbed it, my husband plopped it down for me to sit in it and after it passed inspection from both of us, he ran to the front with it to tell them we want it, while I made my way through the clothing aisles. They had this organized into sizes, but they neglected to include any aisles wider than two feet, so the people were squirming all over each other trying to look and grab. I scrunched down the low row to find the 12 month sizes in the very middle. They had tons of dressy outfits, but I finally spotted a bunch of pajamas. I grabbed about ten pairs and bumped and stumbled back out of the mass.

My husband met me and helped me sort through the usual, "Yeah, we want this one. Nope this looks little. Here's a spot, so not this one." I found three, and a cutie dress I had to get for good measure. While I went to put back the ones I didn't want, squishing my way down the maze of moms again, my husband noticed that the staff at the front had taken the tag off the rocker since we wanted it, but had PUT IT BACK on the table where it had been displayed. He ran down to find five moms swarming around it like bees to honey saying, "Where's the tag? Why doesn't it have a tag? How much is it? I saw it first. No you didn't!" He fearfully reached in between them and yelled as he grabbed it and ran away, "It's mine. It doesn't have a tag because they took it off for me. It's SOLD." He said he ran fast, afraid to look back and find five moms throwing their purses at him.

We managed to get our things out of there and still live through it. Shopping. Ahhhh.. How fun!

Then we went out to visit my dad. Daddy is a farmer, and all his adult life wanted to get a farm like he grew up on. Of course, he also worked for the space program testing rocket motors, but if you asked him right now what he had done for a living, he'd put farmer first. My mom, on the other hand, was a city girl. Thus, their marriage didn't last very long, and as soon as they divorced, he married a good country woman and bought that farm. He's lived there over forty years, with cows, chickens, guineas, peacocks, goats, horses, pigs (at times), doves, and a windmill.
You can drop by anytime and find him sitting out on the porch with friends or neighbors or out "piddling," which doesn't mean peeing, but what you might also know as "puttering around." He loves that farm.

Well, he had two daughters, and his wife has two daughters, so no boys. No future farmers. You won't find me out chasing pigs or gathering eggs when there is a perfectly good Publix grocery down the street. But I do have a first cousin who is married to a guy who loves the country. They moved up north and raised their children and told Daddy they really wanted to retire in the South on a farm. His farm. They made him an offer of about a third of what fifty something acres is worth, but it sounded like a good deal to a man who still thinks his wife is filling up the car at 50 cents a gallon and it's highway robbery.

So they struck the bargain. Daddy and my step-mom can stay in the house until they pass away, and then cousin and her hubby take over. They pay him the money now. Well, I figured, it's his farm. It's his life. It's his money. If he wants to do that, it's none of my business. My sister and step-sisters fussed about it, but they were quickly told it was none of their business what he did with his farm or his money. (I know him pretty well.)

Well, all was well for awhile. Cousin and his wife retired, moved South into a house down the road, and they spent many days wandering around what was going to be their future farm, farm buildings, and farmhouse.

Then the anvil hit the fan. You see, all people have things in their life that might not be worth a lot to anyone else but to them are worth more than gold. To Daddy, that was his anvil. It belonged to his daddy, my grandpa, so that puts it at well over a hundred years old. Plus all the memories Daddy has of his father teaching him things with that anvil, blacksmithing, woodworking, metalworking, etc. Well, cousin's husband came down and had heard the anvil stories. He announced this week that he was going to go ahead and take the anvil to HIS workshop.

Huh? Daddy was puzzled. When he protested, cousin's husband said no only did he buy the farm, he bought all contents. After as mad a dash as an eighty year old man can make, Daddy discovered the papers they had signed had a handwritten addition at the bottom saying "And all contents." Long story less long- Daddy pitched a good fit. Got a lawyer that said for 200 bucks,he can straighten this all out pretty easily. Cousin's husband agreed to sell the farm back for 30K more than he paid, and everyone is mad. Daddy told cousin's husband to come get his cows off his land, where they'd been grazing, even if he had to put them in his living room!

So my husband and I went out there to visit yesterday. I told hubby not to mention all this mess, but maybe by visiting we could get Daddy's mind off this for awhile, which I think we did. Good thing is, Daddy wasn't forgetful yesterday, or repeating himself. Seems having a good fight going has gotten him very mentally focused. I wanted to go down and kick my cousin's and her husband's butts but I refrained.

As if yesterday wasn't full enough, my hubby and I also went to the rodeo with my son. I found out three things. I love the rodeo, my son hates country music, and I am very allergic to the livestock. We sat thirty minutes before I started wheezing. By an hour, my eyes were blood red and itching. By two hours, I had a sneezing fit and went through a whole pack of Kleenex. And I had such a blast. They even had women bull riders! My husband was shocked. I told him women can be good bull riders and even President! Go Hillary!

Rapping Grandma and Brain Funk

I managed to lose the two pounds I gained on Prednisone and am down one extra.

My youngest son is a DJ. He called my mother, age 78, last night and had her rap on the radio. First he had to help her "prepare." Then they did the actual recording. It was too funny not to have it on here.

The therapist told me to read Self Matters by Dr. Phil. It said you were suppose to list ten defining moments in your life, events that changed you even though they were probably not memorable to others. I told the therapist I hadn't done that yet, because what if I had more than ten? And how would I narrow them down? What if I couldn't think of ten? So she told me to throw the perfectionism out the window and just do it. If I got five or twenty-five--didn't matter, just make a short list of a few words about what each event was. I did that. Then I go back to reading the book. Dr Phil says you have to go back to each item, think about how you were feeling, who was there, what happened, smells, sights, sounds, your thoughts, etc. I told her I hadn't tackled that part yet. She quickly said for me NOT to do that at home. I should only do that in her office with her. Of course, my first thought was....Why? Do you think I can't do this myself without cracking up? Or do you think I won't do it right? My brain marches to it's own drummer most of the time, and the drummer is nuts. ha. So I'll take my little list and go there next week and see how it goes.

Yesterday, I called my mom and told her I was going to come down and visit her AND MY SISTER one day soon. I have seen my sister less than a handful of times in ten or twelve years. I think I have grown enough through the therapy process to do this. No, I didn't ask the therapist about it. I just mentioned it to my mom to see if I would be welcome in my sister's home and to give them time to talk it over. Of course, my mom said it was a great idea. But then, she hasn't talked to my sister yet. So we'll see. I'd like to make peace with everyone in my life. Not necessarily deep relationships, just peace would be fine.

I also told the therapist that I'm back to the "my house is so cluttered, it's driving me nuts" period in my life I go through now and then. She said it's controlling the things outside myself when I feel I can't control the inside. I'm not sure I understand that.

I'm also suppose to start becoming more aware of my ego strength or emotional strength. Like, when I have to go out in a social setting and make conversation with people I am uncomfortable around, I come home exhausted, emotional strength =0 or 1. When I feel great, can't wait to get up and get out there and have lunch with friends and join groups and socialize, supposedly a 10. I recognize the pits. I don't recognize anything in between. I guess that's why I'm suppose to try to become more aware of it. This is another one I don't know how to do.

Well, we missed the debate last night because of American Idol and Biggest Loser, so I'm going to go watch it now. Have you wondered why it's "McCain" and "Obama" and "Hillary?" Why call her by her first name and the guys by their last names? Senator Clinton, you go girl!

Shopped, Dropped, Thrilled

Well, I got inspired. From what? An Oprah show. You know I'm not crazy about Oprah, but I did appreciate the guy on there who showed women I identify with, finding a new look. You know those women.

The ones, like me, who would rather have on sweats or pajamas all day, who pray they can run out to the grocery without seeing anyone they know. Since I stopped working, it's becoming easier and easier to be that woman.

Well, I've lost some weight, my clothes are too big. I decided I needed to reward myself. But what to buy? My idea of clothes shopping is to buy what looks good on the mannequin. Then I get home, and I like maybe the pants from the outfit are great, but the sweater is too short or scratchy. So I never wear the sweater, but like the pants. So the pants join the rack of "stuff I like but nothing matches." My whole closet has the same story.

This guy on Oprah said all women need ten basic items to mix and match and look great with COMFORT. That's my favorite word. Comfort. (Of course, his basic ten seemed to grown to about twenty if you really paid attention to the show.) Ok....black pants. I have those. White and black turtlenecks...my hot flashing body ruled those out.

A bright colored trench coat to throw over jeans, or even a black dress. I needed one of those. I ordered a red one from Target. Showed the pic to my daughter who said it looked very "Audrey Hepburn." Hmmm...Anyway, it hasn't come yet, but I'm looking forward to seeing if it looks as good up close as I thought it did in the picture.

He said we need dark wash jeans. Not sandblasted, stonewashed, bleached, holed, or faded. DARK wash. And, get this. WHITE jeans. His exact words were "Size six or size sixteen, you need a pair of white jeans..Fresh...Cute...year round." Ok, I've never owned a pair of white jeans. But it sort of made sense to me. And I figured if my butt looks huge in them, I can cover it up with the red trench! So far, so good.

Crisp, white shirt. Ordered me two of them online. Then tees. Bought a white one, and a red one. A white denim jacket, which I ordered.

Guy says we need a white purse, which is fresh and year round. My husband took me shopping, and I came home with a black and white purse, a black purse, and a red purse. Plus a cute pair of black flats, just for good measure.

I never go shopping. My husband used to take his first wife clothes shopping all the time. He was happy when I asked him to go. So I tell him sort of what I'm looking for...white blouse....red tee, etc. He shows me a lot of things I don't like. Then he finds this one white blouse, to which I reply, "Hang on to that, and I'll try it on."
He gets this big smile, and says, "That's the first time in five years I've picked out any clothes you like." Awwwww. I felt bad. I bought that blouse, even though it ended up not being one of my favorites. But how could I not?

Anyway, this was my big shopping spree for the year, thanks to our tax refund and a sweet husband. Now I have all my new clothes on hangers, and all my new purses spread out on the kitchen table. I feel like a kid at Christmas.

And I learned that it's not just a figure of speech to say "shop till you drop." I have never been so pooped in my life. I came home and passed out on the couch and slept until time to go to bed. But it was so FUN!

Nutjob and Dreaming

This time, I actually have something to write about.

Two weeks ago, I got a call on my cell as I was getting ready to go to bed. Some old guy said, "Kathy?," and when I said yes, starting slurring and mumbling something I couldn't understand, so I hung up. The next day he called when I had my phone turned off. His message went something like this..."Listen, I don't care if you're going by Brenda, or Kathy, or whoever the f**k you are. You have messed with the wrong man. Then he went on to beg his mystery lady to call him back in between crying and cussing her."

The next day, I answered the phone. I told him, "Mister, you have the wrong number." He said, "I don't have no f**king wrong number. I was married to you for twenty years. I still love you. You're f**king with the wrong guy." So I hung up.

The next night at midnight, my phone rings. By this time, I had actually entered this guy's number in my call list labeled "NUT-JOB" so I would know not to answer when he called. So my caller screen said NUTJOB. I refused the call. Go back to sleep. Phone rings again. Nutjob. So I turn off my phone.

The next day, Boy! do I have messages! From what I could understand, Brenda is his ex-wife, who left his drunk ass, and is living with another man, and he hates her guts and wishes she would die. However, since he knows she's not happy, and she knows she still loves him as much as he does her, if she'll come back home, he'll buy her a mansion. Of course, he cusses her a lot in between his offer for wealth. ha.

Ok, so by now my husband is livid over this a**hole waking us up at night. So besides changing my voice mail message to not have my name on it anymore, I decide to just refuse all his calls. I call my cellular provider to ask aboout blocking this idiot's number. Can't be done, they say, but they do offer to change my number. I don't want to change my number. I say I'll just handle this.

So that night, we are watching TV. Nice, quiet, peaceful evening. Then NUTJOB calls. My husband, mild mannered as he is, blew his cool and answered. He yelled that the guy is a drunk bum, he better stop calling his wife's cell phone, he has the wrong blankety blank phone number, stop calling us, etc. Then he hangs up. In a few minutes, Nutjob calls back. He is now convinced he has gotten his dear Brenda's new love on the phone. He's furious with my husband. So I talk to him. I say, Mister, for two weeks you've worried me to death leaving messages on the WRONG NUMBER. If you call me anymore, I'm going to report you for harassment. Stop calling this number!"

Then he calls back. We turn off my phone.

Next morning, a fresh batch of two more voice messages saying, "Your husband is an idiot. He must think he's a brain surgeon. Maybe he is a doctor, but he doesn't give a G*dd*mn. He knows he has the right number, and Brenda, by God, he's not going to give up. etc. etc."

By now, I'm seriously considering getting my number changed, even with all the inconvenience this could cause me.

That afternoon, phone rings again. He's drunk, but not quite as unintelligible as usual. I tried the calm approach. I said Mister, you've been leaving messages for some lady named Brenda for two weeks on my phone. Yes, my husband is upset with you. You're calling all hours of the night. I know you want your messages to get to person you are trying to call. But that's not me. You really ARE calling the wrong number. He asked if our number was ***-****, and I told him no ours was actually one off from that (the number under the button he was trying to hit while falling down slobbering drunk). He said, "Welllllll, Ahhhhh---mmmmmm....sarrrrrr.....eeeeeee." Hangs up. No more calls. Knock on wood.

My daughter thinks the voice messages are funny enough to put on the blog, but we couldn't figure out how to do that. So you got the abbreviated versions.
Anyway, since nutjob quit calling, my life is somewhat back to normal.

I'm still seeing the therapist once a week, and it's like after years of floundering and feeling like I'm wasting my gas money driving over there, I can actually see progress. I no longer feel hurt or pain regarding my bio family. If my mom calls, I'm actually happy to talk to her. I even call her, too. I'm visiting my dad regularly, as an ADULT, not feeling like a three year old when I'm there. I feel a lot of apathy when I'm talking to them. Like they are not really close to me, but they are connected, and I have an obligation to them. However, I don't feel close enough to feel like their opinions could hurt me, and I don't feel this screaming need to have their approval anymore, which is a giant step forward.

After five years of marriage (next month), I'm finally starting to relax around my husband. Last week, I told my therapist that what I'd love to do is go out by myself for the day shopping, but every time I mention going out, he starts putting on his shoes. And while I really don't mind him going, the whole time we are in the store, my brain is racing with thoughts of He is probably bored and ready to go. I should hurry. Then there is nothing relaxing to me about browsing because I'm worried about him getting antsy. She said, "How about this. You tell him before you go in the store...."For years, I shopped alone. I enjoy shopping with you, but the whole time I'm in there, I worry constantly of whether you're bored or ready to leave. This time I'm just going to leisurely browse the store and not worry about it. If you want to go, you'll have to tell me."

My husband said he found a gift he wanted me to have. He saw it in an airport while he was on his business trip. He knows I like Hillary, while he hates her. So he came in her yesterday saying he had found the item he wanted on Amazon and when he went to order it, it was signed into my account. He wanted to switch it to his credit card and wanted me to show him how, but I was not to look at what he had ordered. So I switched his payment method, and of course, I looked. It said, "Hillary Nutcracker."

So I came into the living room and get on my laptop and look up this item. It's a replica of Hillary Clinton, about Barbie doll size, and you can actually put nuts in between her knees and crack them. I thought this was stupid, rude to me since I like her, demeaning to women (powerful women are nutcrackers? I think this goes back to men who are scared if they stand too close to a gay guy, or wear a pink shirt, or hug another guy, their nuts will magically fall off. Men. Geez. Isn't it nice to be a woman. I can say, "Hey, you look great in those jeans, Marge. I can hug another woman when they're crying. If someone says, Hey I feel a lump, there is no biggie in me feeling her boob, and I don't worry that the estrogen fairy will strike me dead and throw me out of the female ranks.)

So I am offended at his choice of gifts.
So when I get the confirmation email that he has ordered this item for a total price of over $22, I go back on there and cancel the order. No,I didn't tell him. I thought since he's already planning to fork out the 22 bucks, I'll just buy myself a gift card from Amazon instead. Then I'll either 1) tell him they were out of stock on whatever he ordered and they gave me a credit which I spent on e-books or 2) tell him I thought his gift was stupid and in poor taste, and I canceled it, but went ahead and kept the money so it would be the gift that counted, not the actual item.
Hmm....Either way, I think I'll wait until he begins to wonder why his gift never arrived. God, we need a woman president so badly in this country....

My middle son is in Seattle, on his job interview, which for his sake, I hope he gets because he wants it so badly, and for my sake, I hope he doesn't because then none of my children will live in the same state as me. Selfless vs Selfish. Geez.Motherhood.

Back to the counseling, she has me reading Self Matters by Dr. Phil (or Dr Dork according to my husband), a book called Being a Better You by Joel Olsteen. I'm also reading the Book Thief, and another book on the Atkins Diet, and have about fifty others waiting on my Kindle to read. What I'd like to do is go off to a mountain cabin by a lake and curl up and read, undisturbed, for a month or so.

Oprah had a show where you are suppose to make images of your dreams and put them on a bulletin board until they come true. Here's my dreams.

Total financial independence. I don't want to live like Paris Hilton. I want to live my life where I am without any money problems.

I want to empty my townhome, have it totally painted, have hardwood floors put down, rebuild my kitchen cabinets, add professional appliances, granite countertops in kitchen and baths, and hire a decorator to make me feel like I'm coming home to a spa in Kyoto. I want a mimimalist look with cleaned off tables, countertops, dressers, etc.

I want to buy a Class B camper van, fill it up with gas, and drive. Go wherever I want to. Stop and see sites along the way. Eat at some new places. Take lots of pictures. Come home when I get ready but have no time table.

I want to throw out my television and have classical music piped into my house twenty-four seven.

I want to knock out walls and make huge windows in my house to let in more light. Skylights even.

I want to finish losing this weight, not have a single stitch that fits me, take about five grand, and go shopping for a whole new wardrobe.

I want to take another cruise, a long one, at least ten to fourteen days, a cruise where I don't have to speak one word to another living soul the whole time.

I want to learn to play the piano. I want to buy a Baldwin piano like the one my ex-husband had and took with him when we divorced even though I am the only one who played it.

Well enough of my rambling. I don't want to blow out my brain this early in the day. There's so little of it left.

Munching, Muses, Messes

My husband has been gone since Wednesday on a business trip. He just called and said he won't be home tonight until around seven, because the DC airport is backed up and he has been re-routed through Atlanta. Since he's been gone, I've cleaned the house, caught up on laundry, done some reading, and just enjoyed the quiet with no TV on.
I bought an MP3 album of classical music (A Bride's Collection of Traditional Wedding Music - Will Taylor) and it's been so relaxing to putter around the house with it playing in the background.

I got a check for the book that is coming out in March (Cup of Comfort for Single Mothers). I had my hair colored, highlighted, and cut. Then I spent the rest of it on a new down pillow. Sleep is very important to me the older I get, and nothing beats a new pillow. It's suppose to be delivered today. Then for the wild child in me, I ordered a sweatshirt from the National Organization for Women. On the front it says, "Feminism is the radical notion that women are people." I also made a small donation to Hillary's campaign.

I'm on my fourth round of antibiotics for the sinus/bronchitis/sinus/bronchitis mess I've had since the cruise. The last two times I've been on an antibiotic along with prednisone. And I've been starving. Nights are the worst. I have a normal dinner and then am dying of the munchies from then until bedtime. I just couldn't figure out what my problem was, because I had been doing so well.

Then I remembered the prednisone. When I worked at hospice, our regional manager commented on a girl who had been prescribed prednisone and said, "It will make you feel like you want to eat the back end of a horse." So after I remembered that, I relaxed a bit. I only have one more day of that med and then things should bet back together as far as appetite goes. In the meantime, I went to the grocery and bought some low carb snacks (low carb yogurt, low carb popsicles, made some tuna salad, deviled eggs, bought pork rinds, etc.) So at least if I feel like munching, I can leave all horses' hineys alone. I'm sure they will feel better, and I know I will.

For a long time, my family has said i needed to write a book. I had in my mind that if I was going to put the time toward it, it had to not be A book but THE book. So the perfectionist in me could never come up with THE idea for THE book, so I've procrastinated. I decided yesterday that I will write a few books, just for me, ones I want to write, even if I never let anyone read them. That's how I've done best with my writing so far, write it for me..if someone else likes it, fine. If not, I'm still happy to have written it. So I've decided to just start and see where it goes. I may have to write several before I find one I really like and am proud of. But sitting around ruminating over beginning is getting me nowhere.

Yesterday's Oprah said clutter in your home makes your butt fat. ha. See there, something else I can blame on my packrat hubby.....

Super Tuesday and the Social Butterflies

My husband voted on the way to work. I decided I'd go a little later and undo the damage he did that morning.

Our polling place is a nearby elementary school, and the poll workers are all my neighbor ladies, and only two of them do I vaguely know. The first is Poll Worker Number One aka Mary Kay Lady. The second is Poll Worker Number Two aka Sunday School Teacher that called my house forever after I visited her church once many years ago, trying to get me to come back.

I want to vote. I don't want to go there with those ladies to vote.
Go. Not go. Civil duty wins out.
I give myself a big pep talk....c'mon you don't care about running into a few old gossipy ladies, do you?

I arrive at the polling place. Poll Worker aka Mary Kay looks at me in line. Then she looks at me again.

She says, "Hey, I didn't recognize you. How are you doing?"

Me- "Fine. How have you been?"

She- "You look good. You've lost a lot of weight!"

Me--"thanks."

I give my driver's license to PW Number Three. She looks at it and says, "You live in our neighborhood?" She reads off my address. "I live on the same street."

Me- "Oh."

She- "Which one do you live in?"

Me- I repeat house number she just read.

She- "Whose house did you buy?"

Me- "Huh?"

She- "Who did you buy your house from?"

Me- mumbling..."Uh, Julie somebody. I don't really remember."

She- "You don't know who you bought your house from?"

Me- "Well, it was a long time ago. I've lived there eight years."

She--"What? Why don't I know you?"

All the other poll worker neighbor ladies who have been following along with our conversation gather around the table.

Me- I say nothing. I'm thinking...You don't know me because I don't come to the homeowners meetings, because I don't know a single neighbor's name except Mary Kay lady, and that is only because my ex knew her husband from the Masons, and she mails me MK catalogs in the mail from time to time.

Poll Worker Number Two- Sunday School Teacher--"Which one do you live in?" (She doesn't know me either, I guess.)

I repeat house number again.

All the ladies look at each other.

PW Number Three- Determined to solve the mystery--"You've lived there since 2000?"
Me-"Uh huh."

PW Number Two- "I don't know you either. I thought I knew everyone." (She does, and she knows me, at least I thought she did.)

PW Number One aka Mary Kay Lady "I didn't think you lived in our neighborhood anymore."

Me- "Oh yeah. Same place. Long time."

They all are giving either other strange looks. I grab my ballot and run into the booth.
Voices from outside.

"Who is she?"

"That's Kathy. She lives next to the (mumbling) family."

"I've never seen her before."

"Me neither."

"What's her last name again?"

MK Lady-"I don't know. I think it was "O-something" but she's changed it a few times, I think."

"Divorce? Oh."

MK Lady--"She's sort of a recluse, I think."

"She must be. Otherwise, I would have known her."

"She doesn't come to the meetings? Why doesn't she come to the meetings?"

MK lady says, "She came a couple of times years ago, but I think all the arguing everyone did back then got to her."

"I can't believe I don't know her. I know everyone."

"I've never even seen her outside."

I run from the booth, throw my ballot in the machine and go to my car. I make myself breath slowly so my heart will quit pounding. Then I drive home, relieved I don't have to do that for awhile.

The time before this when I voted, the comment I heard when I was leaving was from "Poll Worker Who Was the Receptionist from My Family Doctor's Office" and she said, "She's a loner. She's on anti-depressants!"

Dribs and Drabs of This and That

I haven't been so great at keeping regular posts on my blog lately, but am going to try to do better. I got my Kindle from Amazon, downloaded some books, and now have an even better excuse not to get out of my recliner. So yesterday, I ordered some books on low carb dieting, so maybe that will get me motivated to get my butt walking.

I saw my regular family doctor this week, because I still have this cold/sinus infection/bronchitis/whatever it is that I've had since the cruise the middle of December. I'm on my fourth round of antibiotics, prednisone, decongestants, etc. so hopefully this time's the charm. While I was there, he weighed me and said from when I saw him in August to now, I've lost 27 pounds.

Then he gave me a lecture about why low carb doesn't work. Can you believe that? I thought, hey, take a look at my behind, it begs to differ! His theory is people that do low carb are actually just eating less calories without noticing. Hey, I'd notice.
My grandmother, bless her heart, always said it's the starches and sugars that make you fat. I think Granny was onto something.

Our tv shows came back on, so we have spent the last couple of weeks watching Lost, House, In Treatment, Amazing Race, and a host of game shows. That is my husband's favorite thing to do, tv. My favorite it turning it off, turning on Canon in D on the Kindle, and reading. I have found if I use noise reducing earbuds instead of the speakers, I can actually block out the tv. There is a God.

My middle son has an interview he's flying out to Seattle for in a couple of weeks. I don't think I can stand him being that far away. The thought kills me. My daughter is too far, my youngest son is too far, but Seattle seems like a million miles. Of course, he's always wanted to live in Seattle since he visited there a few years ago. He talked about it all through college. I want him to be happy, but I wish all my kids lived closer.

I'm still seeing the therapist. Here is what I've learned the last few weeks. It's ok to cry at funerals even if your mother doesn't like you to, so there is no reason to avoid them because of fear of crying. I have a whole critical dialogue with myself that plays in my mind a lot. I'm working to change that. I have no more to feel guilty about than the next person, but it just seems that way. It's ok to ask for what you need to take care of yourself, even if it seems selfish (this one is hard for me.)

As for books, I'm reading Mercy of Thin Air right now. Good, but took me awhile to figure out the flow of the story. I loved the movie "I am Legend" (even though I didn't think I would) and am thinking of reading that book. I want to re-read Gone With the Wind. I haven't read everything that everyone else has read, so still have the Kite Runner, World Without End, HP books 3-7, A Thousand Splendid Suns, and a few more "gotta-reads" ahead of me. Hopefully, by the time I finish them, there will be some more "gotta-reads" out there. Reading on the Kindle is much better for old eyes, because you can adjust the font size.

We are planning to go to temple tonight. The children are putting on a program, and I think it will be cute to watch. I've decided to put converting on the back burner for awhile, and see how I feel about it in a year or so. In the meantime, I love going to temple.

Twenty-seven pounds gone!

Kindle Kindle Kindle

My Amz Kindle is finally on it's way, after being backordered for a month, and will be here on Monday, if UPS doesn't leave it on the wrong doorstep, which they have been known to do around here.

I had to go to the dr today, and I have lost three pounds this week, for a total of 21 pounds. That is since the end of October. I don't know why we never did the low-carb thing back when it was the craze, but I guess I am usually about two years behind the curve on most things.

It's been so cold here (Yeah, not compared to Alaska, Amy, but cold for us- 18 degrees at night.) I haven't wanted to leave the house. Plus I still have bronchitis, AGAIN. So I haven't done much this week. I did manage to make dinner every night, but everything else around here is a mess. Our laundry is at piled so high, the hamper won't hold it. I have to get that done today. Maybe.

I finished Water for Elephants, and am reading Night by Elie Weisel. It's a short book but of course, very hard to read because of the content.

We haven't been to synagogue in a few weeks, but when I kick this cold, we will go back. I am hoping they will have another class sometime in February.

I joined an online book club. Their March books are Book Thief and The Alchemist. I ordered Book Thief for the Kindle. I don't know about The Alchemist. Since they had two choices, I thought I might just do one and not both.

That's about all the news for now. Oh, one more thing. My middle son had an interview this week with Amazon! That would be so cool to have a son who gets an Amz discount!

Update on Life in the Fast Lane

For the record, my husband is a Republican, but I love him in spite of it. We watch the debates together. He makes his comments on the Democrats. Then I make mine on the Republicans after their debates. We never argue about it. He knows that I am too stubborn to change my mind. I just don't feel we need anyone in the White House who, looking at the state of our country's economy, feels that whether or not gay people get married, or a woman gets an abortion is something they need to address with the office of the Presidency.

I got an email from Amazon that my Kindle should ship by 1/21. I can't wait to get it. I am reading Water for Elephants now. I found all these classics like Little Women on Amazon for the Kindle for 99 cents. I thought wow. Bought a bunch. Then I figured out they are free on other sites. Oh well. Now I know.

The Rabbi and his wife, that we are taking the long distance class from, called last night to see how we are doing. My husband talked to them. I'm still having some doubts about everything.

Yesterday we went to a funeral for my uncle. At the funeral they played all the hymns I learned as a child. I remembered all the words. I wonder if maybe I'm too old to make this kind of change. I just don't know. I still have a lot to sort out and all the time I need to do it.

As far as my uncle, he was 90. My aunt died many years ago. He was not able to drive anymore, in bad health, and miserable. He got all of his papers out on the dining room table, had his house cleaned, left a note telling his family how much he loved them, and went out into the back yard and shot himself. The pastor that did his funeral said he was a WWII vet, a Purple Heart recipient, a father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and that it was not uncommon for elderly people to feel they have done all that God gave them to do and they are ready to go home.

It was all very sad. I did get to see some first cousins I hadn't seen in many years.

After the funeral, we went out to visit my dad. He was having a good day, and knew me. He didn't seem to recognize my sister's name, though. Some days are better than others.

I had to dress up for the funeral, and got out my dark pants outfit, only to find it is huge on me. Ended up having to fish around for something else to wear. That was so awesome. I am really curious as to what I weigh now, but don't want to know bad enough to go by the doctor's office.

My daughter's birthday is tomorrow. My husband and I are going to get together with them Saturday. I am looking forward to it. Happy Birthday, baby girl.

Ho Ho Hum

Isn't she cute! She's almost eight months old now.

We are back from our cruise. It was very nice to get away and be pampered for a few days. I got sick the day we left, and had the crud all week. I got back Saturday and Sunday was still not better, so I went to a walk-in clinic. The doc said I have bronchitis and a sinus infection. I'm on meds that seem to be helping, but they make me so sleepy.

On the cruise, I won at three card poker, and came back with more than I went with, so I ordered the Amazon Kindle I've been wanting. However, it's on back order, so who knows when it will come. People who ordered in November are being given Jan 15th time frames. But I can be patient, up to a point.

My mother-in-law is here visiting. We've had a nice time so far. I've cooked a couple of crock-pot meals and we got take-out some. She understands I've not felt good.

My step-daughter and her husband are coming tomorrow night, or are, as far as we know. My daughter and granddaughter are coming to visit tomorrow. Friday, my husband is having knee surgery. Saturday, we are having two of the kids over for dinner. Then next week, my youngest son and his girlfriend come in for a visit from Arkansas.

I also just noticed my husband has a present for me, even though we agreed not to buy anything for each other, and I don't have anything for him.

So if I sound Bah Humbug, I guess I am, yet another year. But I do hope all who read this had a happy Holiday season and got to spend some good times with family and friends.

Oh, almost forgot the good news. I weighed at the doctor Sunday and have lost sixteen pounds since I've been eating low carb. How about that.

Mitt Romney's Religion Does Make a Difference

Mitt Romney has come forward to say that his being Mormon is not going to influence his role as President. I think if many people really knew what Mormonism teaches, they might believe otherwise.
For one thing, the Mormon church has a prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley, who is considered a prophet in the true sense as Abraham. When a person becomes Mormon, they pledge to support and sustain the prophet. Period. What he says goes.
The Mormons believe in the principle of "Eternal Progression." This means that a man can be perfected, and in the celestial kingdom (the penthouse of heaven reserved for Mormons) can become a god, have spirit children, and populate and rule his own planet. If you don't believe me, look this up on their own website, www.lds.org
Type in "eternal progression", "become gods," etc.
A quote I found from this page says:

Some men inherit wealth through the industry of their fathers. Some men are through inheritance raised to worldly thrones, to power, and position, among their fellow men. Some seek for the inheritance of worldly knowledge and renown through the application of their own industry and perseverance; but there is one inheritance which is worth more than all, it is the inheritance of eternal exaltation.

The Scriptures say that eternal life—which is the life possessed by our Eternal Father and his Son Jesus Christ—is the greatest gift of God. Only those shall receive it who are cleansed from all sin. It is promised to those “who overcome by faith, and are sealed by the Holy Spirit of promise, which the Father sheds forth upon all those who are just and true. They are they who are the church of the Firstborn. They are they into whose hands the Father has given all things.” (D&C 76:53–55.)

The third and highest kingdom—the celestial—is where God and Christ dwell. There are, even in this kingdom, different degrees of glory, but it is the privilege of every member of the Church, who will receive and be true to every covenant and obligation, to gain the exaltation. All who gain the highest exaltation, the Lord has said, are made “equal in power, and in might, and in dominion.” All power is given unto them, they become “gods, even the sons of God, wherefore, all things are theirs, whether life or death, or things present, or things to come, all are theirs and they are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.” These are made priests and kings.

So no, being Mormon isn't quite the same as Kennedy being Catholic. Mormons believe they can become gods. Catholics don't. I don't want a man who believes he can become a god to be President, do you?