CHANNELING NOAH

I am wondering if the time has arrived that we should consider building an ark. We have had almost fifteen inches of rain in the past three weeks and everything is saturated and flooded. Since last night alone, we have had another three inches. The backyard has standing water in spots, and the sump pump is working overtime. The ditches are overflowing and everything is just a mess. I am worried for my parents who don't have all their beans in yet, and in this rate, may not get it in. They also have corn that is no doubt under water right now. Perhaps they could consider planting rice?

WHEN DID I BECOME ONE OF THE GROWNUPS?

It's kinda hard when you have those "Oh my goodness I am getting really old" moments. I had just such a moment last night. I had gone with some of my girlfriends to dinner and a movie, then back to my friend Barb's house for wedding cake and spiked punch, leftover from her daughter Neysa's wedding this past weekend. After we had eaten, Barb asked if we would like to see some of the pictures that her daughter Kalyn had sent via email from the wedding.

Having attended the wedding, most of the pictures and events from the big day looked familiar to me....that is, until towards the end of the pictures. There were pictures of the bride and groom and guests dancing and wearing crazy hats - - "they were doing the YMCA" noted Barb. I commented that I must have been in the bathroom while that was going on. But as the pictures continued, I realized that I wasn't waiting in line for the restroom when the YMCA dance was taking place. (though admittedly, there is no love lost from having missed this Village People wedding staple.) No, the reason I don't recall the YMCA dance is because we weren't there for it, nor for the following pictures that we saw where the DJ was done for the evening and Neysa's brother, Shay, brought out his keyboard and sang and played for the group. We missed that, along with the dancing and frivolity that ensued into the late hours of the night/early hours of the morning.

By 10:15PM, Chris and I had started yawning and getting tired - - we had both been up since about 6:30AM. By 11PM, Chris and I had headed for home to relieve our babysitter and to get some sleep. Only a few miles away, dancing and drinking and laughing and singing continued while I took off my makeup, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

Until I saw those pictures last night, I still felt like one of the "young ones" at the wedding. Those pictures very soundly drove home the point to me that I am indeed, getting further removed from "the young group" every minute. Deep breath and a realization - - - we were at that wedding not because we are friends with the bride and groom, but because we are good friends of the bride's PARENTS. We are friends with the bride and groom, don't get me wrong, but we are actually very good friends with Barb and Greg, Neysa's parents.

It doesn't seem that long ago that Chris and I would have been the ones helping close the place down at 2AM. Now the thought of staying awake until 2AM sounds completely foreign to me. The spiked blue punch at the wedding was tasty, but I stopped after a few glasses because I didn't want to feel crappy the next day. I opted to sit out the majority of the dancing in favor of sitting and talking at our table with friends. While many of the party revelers were undoubtedly snoozing the next morning, I was on my way to church to teach Sunday School. Wow....when did this happen? I think adulthood crept up on me when I wasn't looking.

WE HAVE BEEN TAGGED

We got the beans back. For anyone who has not yet read about our ongoing game of "Pass the Beans" with our friends, the Kirbys, you can get updated by going here: http://paw-pawpatch.blogspot.com/2008/05/hide-beans.html.

This past Saturday night, we attended the wedding of a family friend. As we left the wedding and I went to get in the car, I pulled the door handle and discovered something tied to it. It was a gift bag, in the wedding colors of turquoise blue and brown, stuffed with matching tissue paper and tied with ribbon. On the outside was a note that read, "thank you for taking part in our special day."

Inside the bag, among the layers of tissue paper was the can of beans. Tag - We are it.

It is almost better when you have the beans than when you don't. Now the Kirbys are left to wait and wonder when they are going to get tagged back again. We already have a few good schemes to get it back to them in the works. I will keep you updated.

CRASH......BOOM.......BANG!!

About 2:30AM this morning, the tornado sirens went off. I, of course, slept right through them. Chris roused me and told me to go get Aleita and he would grab Maggie. We headed to the basement, just in time for the power to go off. It ended up going off and on several times, but never long enough for generator to kick on (FYI - the best insurance policy against power outages? spend $4,000 to have a natural gas Guardian generator installed and then you will never need it.)

I set Aleita in one of the recliners, and looked around for one of their blankets that they like to snuggle up with when they watch TV down there. "What are you doing?" she asked me. I told her I was looking for a blanket for her. She said, "I just want you, Mama." Aleita is not a big fan of anything that is particularly loud. She especially does not care for thunderstorms. She really hates sudden noises - the tornado siren scares her almost as much as the storm itself. Maggie always slept through thunderstorms, or at least if she didn't, she rarely came to our bed during one. Aleita is a frequent flier in the master bedroom during a thunderstorm. In fact, she had been in our bedroom about half an hour before the tornado sirens sounded, according to Chris (I am a heavy sleeper and usually sleep through her night visits, which is why she almost always visits Chris' side of the bed.)

I found a blanket and sat down in the recliner with her. She immediately wrapped herself around me as close as she could get to me and snuggled against me. It was the middle of the night and I was tired, there was a tornado warning with strong rotations only a few miles from our home, we had hail pelting against the house, lightning flashing like crazy and thunder sounding every few seconds, but I was absolutely delighted to have my youngest child snuggled against me. She is so head-strong and independent that she never wants to cuddle anymore, so although there was a nasty storm going on outside, it did my heart some good to know that there are times when even my little Power Ranger wants her mama.

At one point, I had to laugh at a comment she made. She said, "If I were God, I would turn all the thunder booms and tornadoes into sunshine and then we could go back to bed."

This morning, our yard is flooded, the ditches are overflowing, farmers' barely up crops are under water, the grass seed I planted yesterday is surely washed away, and our cordless phone/answering machine bit the dust after being struck by lightning. But we are safe. And as Maggie reminded me this morning, I won't have to go out and water my flowers after I get home from work tonight.

Dempsey

Aleita & Dempsey, January 2008

I'm worried about Dempsey. Our beloved boxer dog will be ten at the end of this month, and his health has taken a serious turn for the worse lately. He has a bad case of bronchitis that he just can't seem to shake. He has had two vet visits and a few different kinds of pills, yet his cough and wheezing continue to get worse. When he tries to bark, all that comes out is a gaspy ruff. He forever sounds like he is trying to hack up a fur ball because of his constant coughing and gagging. After running across the yard, he sounds like an old man with late stage emphysema who has just climbed a flight of stairs (for those MTA folks reading, you will immediately think of Mr. Merriman, I'm sure.)

Dempsey is still very active and is eating well, so that is good. The day that he doesn't want to run and chase his ball in the yard will be the telltale sign for me that things are going to seriously go downhill. I have never known a dog that loved to chase a ball that way that one does. When he was a pup, he would play until your arm was tired and you refused to throw the ball anymore. As an old dog, he will chase it several times, then lay down for a rest....but after a few minutes, he brings the ball back, ready for more. He still gobbles up his food each morning and evening, and is more than happy to clean up any wayward food that falls off the table during dinner. For this, I am grateful. But though his activity is high and eating is fine, his bronchial symptoms continue to worsen.

Chris and I actually had "the talk" that I have been dreading this morning: at what point do you decide that you have to put on the brakes and say, "enough is enough" when it comes to vet treatment? When do you resolve that you just can't spend any more money in medical care for your much loved animal companion? I know that some people would say that there is no price too high for ensuring that a pet has any medical treatment in order to extend its life as long as possible (so long as the animal was not in pain, of course....though I am sure there are people who would keep an animal alive who was hurting for the selfish reason of not wanting to let it go yet.) I actually know someone right now who is paying a few thousand dollars for chemo treatments for their dog. However, we both agreed that we are not willing to go into debt to provide care for an animal that may not even be successful. We will do what we can, within reason, but can't justify spending tremendous amounts of money for an aging animal without any guarantees of success.

To top things off, in the past few months, we have spent about $1,100 in bills for Dempsey. He had two dental surgeries that amounted to about $900, and his treatments for his bronchitis have been about $200 so far, just for vet visits and medicine. The next step will be Xrays and then God-only-knows-what. I have tried to explain to Dempsey that for what he has cost us the past few months, he at least owes us another few years. He hacks at me in return.

This morning as I was getting ready for work in my bedroom, Maggie was sitting on the floor petting Dempsey. He was wheezing and gagging, and she said to me, "Dempsey doesn't feel very good, does he?" I said, "no sweetie, he doesn't." She then asked, "when is he going to get better?" I truthfully said, "I don't know, Maggie. I hope soon, but he may not get better either." We then talked for a little bit about the fact that Dempsey was sick and didn't seem to be getting any better, and that the medicine the doctor gave him doesn't seem to be helping. She looked at me morosely, and said, "Is Dempsey going to die?" I told her that I didn't know, and that I hoped not, but only God knew that for sure. She looked a little dejected, but didn't say anything and just continued to pet Dempsey. I then walked in the bathroom to continue getting ready.

I ran the blow dryer on my hair for a few minutes, then when I turned it off, I heard her talking softly from the bedroom. "Are you talking to me?" I asked her. "No," she replied, "I'm talking to God. I'm asking him to get Dempsey better." Talk about a lump in my throat.....

I hope God's not too busy today to hear a few prayers about an old dog that one family isn't ready to let go of just yet.

SHOW SOME PRIDE

Yesterday, I had to clear a path through Maggie's room to get to her bed. It isn't that it is filthy, but it is covered with dolls, doll clothes, shoes, books, etc. (I think my mom is probably smiling when she reads this....hahaha...yes, I get it now, Mom.)

Anyway, I said to Maggie, "Take a little pride in our home. Please pick up this mess." She said to me, "What is pride?" I am always working on expanding the kids' vocabulary, and when she asks this question, I often say, "what do you think it means?" More often than not, she is able to discern the meaning from the context of what was said.

So I asked her, "Maggie - what do you think 'pride' means?" She thought for a moment, then said, "Southern Hospitality?" I burst out laughing and asked, "where did that come from? where in the world did you hear that?"

Of course - - I should have known. Her answer? She heard it while watching "Hannah Montana."

HAS ANYONE SEEN MY EARRING??

I am beginning to amass quite a collection of something that I really don't care for - - single earrings. Today after lunch, I looked in the mirror to fix my lipstick (and of course, check my teeth for stray lettuce from my salad), and I noticed that I was missing the earring in my right ear. (sigh.)

At the time, I was traveling in the passenger seat in a friend's car on the way back to our office after lunch. I unhooked my seatbelt and did a scan of my seat to check for it. Alycia asked me, "what are you doing?" "I am missing an earring," I told her. She said, "I didn't notice it was missing during lunch - hopefully it's around her somewhere." I looked on the floorboard, in the door handle grab and in my purse. "Maybe it fell down your blouse," she said - - "Check your bra," she suggested. I checked. "Just boobs," I sighed. I even called the restaurant when I got back to work just to check to see if they found it. No such luck.

My poor lone earring will join the others in the small back square of my jewelry box where single earrings go to die. My thinking is that as soon as I give up hope and throw the single earring away, its mate will turn up somewhere, and I will be kicking myself for having been so hasty to say hasta la vista to my little lobe dweller. It is hard, also, to just pitch an earring that is part of a set of what were once some of my favorites. I know I can't wear them anymore, but it doesn't make me love them any less. (I have also been known to hang onto stray gloves and socks entirely past normal expection time for them to turn up.)

It of course stands to reason that the earrings that I lose one of are always my favorites - - since I wear them more often than I do the others, of course the chances are higher that one of them will get lost more than just those I wear occasionally. Still, it irks me that the one I lost today is part of the set I bought to replace the last set from which I lost one.

Anyone know someone with just one ear that is in need of some ear bling? Perhaps a pirate that has a taste for high fashion? If so, let me know. I have several hanging out in my jewerly box, just waiting to be worn. Perhaps I should start a website that allows people to trade their stray earrings, socks, and gloves with others who may have a match. Hmm....perhaps I'm onto something....

PASS THE BEANS

We have a game that we play with our friends, the Kirbys, that we refer to as "Pass the Beans." It didn't start as a game, per se, but it has ended up as one. It is actually just a simple version of the game "tag." Right now, the Kirby's are it.

It all began a few years ago on New Year's Day. Every year, Chris and I host a New Year's Day party in our home for family and friends. Everyone brings two or three small wrapped goodies for use in a game of "cut-throat bingo." Cut-throat bingo is played similarly to regular bingo, except that at the beginning of the game, all the prizes are handed out so that everyone has about the same number of them. They are then opened, and everyone can see what everyone else has. Then, the bingo begins - - except when you bingo, you are allowed to take someone else's prize, and they are just S.O.L. (except if the bingo themselves, they of course can take back the prize from you.) There are usually a few popular items in each year's bingo game - - this past year, it was microwave popcorn and Orange Crush.

At any rate, one of the not-so-fabulous prizes in the game from a few years back was a can of Pork N Beans. Chris ended up as the recipient of this marvelous prize - - can you believe that no one wanted to take it from him?!? Gretchen was lamenting that she had had her good prize taken away, so we joked with her that we would let her take the Pork N Beans home if it would make her feel better. She ever-so-politely declined.

After she left, I realized she had forgotten her dish that she had brought a dessert in. A few days later when I was going to be out and about, I grabbed her dish to return it to her. Sitting right next to the dish was the can of Pork N Beans. I couldn't resist. I went to her house, and the garage door was open with her Tahoe sitting inside the garage. I went into the garage and put the Pork N Beans in the cup holder of the Tahoe, then retraced my steps back to the front door and rang the bell and returned her dish, never mentioning the can I had left for her.

A few hours later, I got a phone call querying me about "breaking and entering" into a vehicle without permission and leaving behind unwanted items. A few weeks later, I found the can of Pork N Beans in my music slot in the choir room at church. And the game was officially on.

Since that time, the can has been traded back and forth at least 15 - 20 times. At some point, Gretchen added a smiley face to the top of the can. That smiling can of pork n beans has racked up a lot of miles. One time, we were over at the Kirby's for a party, and I snuck upstairs and put it under Gretchen's pillow in her bed. Another time, I found it in Aleita's backpack when I picked her up from daycare after Gretchen had enlisted a friend who worked there to place it for her. Her kids received it this past Christmas, wrapped up under the Christmas tree like a present from us. Chris found it one day in his office at school where he is the liaison detective, after Gretchen had visited there for a career day. Once when Gretchen picked me up for a meeting at church, I had sacks of food to take for the food pantry. As we got to church, I removed the pork n bean can and stuck it in the seat pocket on the passenger seat and then carried the bags on into church. This past fall when we moved, lots of people gave us boxes to use - - in one from the Kirby's, wrapped carefully in yards of bubble wrap, was the pork n beans. This past winter, we went with the Kirbys and others to Chicago for the weekend - - I conspired with the babysitter who stayed with their kids to hide it for me while they were gone (she put it in with the pop in the fridge.)

As I said earlier, the Kirbys are currently in possession of the smiling can of pork n beans. An attempt was made by Gretchen this past Monday to tag us, but her mission had to be aborted. She had just left a meeting at church and drove by, intending to hide the can somewhere around the house or on the porch, I'm sure. However, she didn't anticipate that Chris would be sitting right in the window seat looking outside when she drove by. She slowed down as she came by the house and started to pull over, then pulled away and continued on. He called her later that night to let her know that she had been busted. Our time is coming to be it soon enough though, I'm sure.

SUMMER IS COMING. . . .

I was walking home tonight from a meeting at church about 8:30PM. It was a little chilly, but that is ok with me. I have really been enjoying these 70s temperatures during the day and the high 50s at night. (sorry, Gretchen - I know you are ready for mid-80s "boating weather," but I could handle this kind of weather year round!)

Anyway, as I was walking home, this is the first night I have noticed the fireflies for the year. To me, that is one of the first visible signs that summer is coming, even if the thermometer says otherwise. Get out your Mason jar and punch some holes in the lid and head to the backyard!

CONGRATULATIONS ARE IN ORDER

Congratulations to my very dear friend Michelle, and her husband, Scott, on the birth of their new baby girl, Lucille Grace Wiesbrook. She was born May 15, 2008 and weighed 7 lbs, 2 oz.

The first picture is their son, Nathaniel. He is kissing "the baby" in Michelle's tummy a few days before she gave birth.