Hodgepodge Wednesday on Thursday with Sand Between my Toes

I'm gonna "wave" hello to the Hodgepodge host, Joyce, from the comfort of a beachside condo. Yes, I'm on vacation, and yes I'm a day late with these answers, but I have time on my hands, people. Traveling with mostly college kids does have its benefits. So, let's see what this week's Hodgepodge contains, in addition to sunshine and waves.

1. If you could work for any one government agency which would you choose and why? (if you're in the US here's a helpful list)

I had time to think about this, and in fact, called my powerful imagination into play and changed my name to Pollyanna for the duration of my answer to the question.

I would work for the Department of Motor Vehicles. Why? Because I would turn it into a place where people want to go, not a place they dread. I would set up the place with a hair salon and make-up booth so that people would never look ugly on their driver's license. I would also have movie stations : one for action-adventures, one for chick flicks, and one for kids. If you come in on your birthday, you'd get free cotton candy. There'd be a mini-library of donated books so you could take your read with you if you didn't finish while waiting to renew your tags. Currently most of us can read an entire shelf's worth while we're there. I might add animal balloons to the fun for the kids.

2. How difficult is it for you to forgive someone who refuses to apologize?

Very hard. I don't let go of hurts easily, but if someone shows remorse it helps me along a lot sooner.

3. What is your favorite meatless supper?

Stuffed shells.

4. Wednesday August 10th is National Lazy Day...will you be celebrating? If so, tell us how so we can be lazy too.

I was playing in an oceanfront pool for several hours, then I ate grilled cheese, took a nap, and went out to a lovely dinner with the family, came back and watched "Soul Surfer." Today I spent a couple hours in the Lazy River. Is that lazy enough for ya?

5. As a child did you have any special back to school traditions and if so, what were they? If you're a parent did you carry on those traditions with your own children?

My mom took us shopping for a few new dresses (we went to Christian school where there were no pants allowed and not a uniform). One year I was put in charge of the shopping bag containing sixty bucks worth of new clothes. I absent-mindedly set it down and it got stolen. Read my lips: No new dresses for us that year.

As for traditions with my kids, we homeschooled (the older boys through 12th and 11th grades, respectively, our girl all the way through) so they didn't get school clothes . I made a tradition of photographing them on the first day of each new year. Each child "got to" ("had to"?) hold up their favorite new book for the shot. I don't know who felt more tortured--me or them, but I will carry on traditions long after they cease to be fun. L'chaim!

6. Write a summer tongue twister.
Buxom bronze broads in bikinis beckon and beguile bowlegged boys on beaches and boardwalks.

7. Would you be interested in observing a surgery or do you turn away when the nurse brings out the needle?

Yes, I could handle it, but only if I turned my head for the initial cut. I can't understand how one human can cut another. I actually once watched a doctor put 27 stitches in my son's leg in the ER. (Ben fell out of a tree and landed on thin plywood which broke in half and ripped his upper thigh open.) I asked the doc as I look on, "What's that white bulbous stuff?" and he said, "fat tissue." Oh. Ew .That jagged piece of plywood sure cut in deep! But I was fascinated. My boy was on the verge of fainting, but I was okay.

Speaking of surgeries and "Soul Surfer," did any of you notice something really odd about the scene in which Bethany's dad was in surgery for a knee replacement? The doctor is about to cut into the patient (no nursing staff around, just the surgeon, but that's not the oddest part) . Suddenly a frantic nurse barges through the OR door. She says ,"Doctor, we need this room STAT! A teenage girl is coming in . Shark attack!" and the patient--Bethany's dad--sits up and says, "Who is it?" My observant husband said, "What? No anesthesia for a knee replacement surgery?"

We had a good laugh about that .

8. Insert your own random thought here.

My daughter's compassion moved me last night . Paul treated us to a swanky-but-underpatronized restaurant, and he was carrying a hefty Restaurant dot com coupon, of course. Sarah observed that our waitress was probably a single mom (she had three kids and no wedding ring). When she urged her dad to tip her extra well, he had already signed for the bill. But after hearing his daughter's perspective, he tucked some additional cash in with the credit card slip on the way out. Sarah clucked her "I'm proud of you" cluck and said, "See, Dad. Underneath all that frugality is a generous heart." He just smiled.

Ready

I'm ready to see my little boy after a week at camp.
It's too quiet here. What was good for a day or two
--uninterrupted hours to myself, to write, to work, to clean--
no longer appeals. I long for his voice asking me
questions, giggling, singing when he thinks I'm not listening.
I can't wait to hear about his experiences. Intriguing
and amusing he is, in his story telling. The words he
uses seem, at times, too big for a nine-year-old.
Like when I asked him if he'd be taking his
everyday Bible, he said, "Nah, it's too cumbersome."


I'm ready to see my big boy again, too.
My young man who turns 20 on Monday.
(Really, Lord? Will I really have three children
at least 20 years old?)
I'm ready to hear how God spoke to him, and
through him, into the young lives of hurting,
hungry kids in a remote log cabin atop a
wooded hill in a state we call "P-A." I'm ready
to hear him jam out on the drums again in
the basement, to hear him sing praises in
the shower.

I'm ready to see his girlfriend again. These
ladies my sons hold dear , I hold dear. It's
a rather unexpected thing for me. Always
wondered if I would understand what it means
to love like family someone my child falls
in love with. But I get it now.

I'm ready to witness the moment they behold
each other again after eight long weeks. If I
feel like a balloon about to burst with joy and
relief, how must they be feeling?
She was in Zambia for five of those weeks,
without no telecommunication.

She texted me from DC
when her first of two remaining flights
landed back
"home". She would've called him first,
of course, but Steve gets almost no cell
service where he is. She had not talked
to him yet. She said she's dying to see him
Saturday night. She was about to board the
next flight to Texas
for a mission team debriefing
so our texts were of the hyper-
informational type and then "See you soon!"

But I twisted her message in a very cruel
tease that only a son's mother can pull off.
During a Facebook chat a couple hours later,
I said to Steve, "I have some news from her.
"She decided to stay in Africa another month."
There was a pregnant pause. Then he wrote,
"Really? Why?"
And I said, "She fell in love with someone else.
A black drummer."

"Ha ha," he replied.

"'I had you going, didn't I?"

"um, well, I could see her staying another
month in Africa, but was trying to
figure out how that'd
work with school. The whole black drummer
thing, though? No. LOL."

We both know she is
way too smitten with my son to march to
the beat of a different drummer. Sometimes
I think her heart beats in time with his.

I am ready to go on vacation. We're heading
to the beach as a family next week. All of us,
including the white drummer boy and his girl,
minus our oldest and his bride-to-be. I am
sorry we can't all be together. Sunbathing
on southern sand. Soaking up views of the
grey-green Atlantic from
our balcony.

Ahh, summertime on the East Coast.

R is for River

When I was in the seventh grade I became fast friends with a girl named Cindy. She and I were the same age at the same church, and so were our older sisters. My sister Rachel is best friends to this day with Sondra, though Cindy and I lost touch.

I remember Cindy and Sondra's sheep farm. They taught me how to shear a sheep, trying to convince me that despite the looks on those poor sheep faces, they really loved losing all that wool in the summer. Cindy taught me that living on a farm means getting up at 5:30 to gather eggs. I learned that hens who don't like to give up their eggs can be as loud, mean, and nasty as any other mother when you tangle with her babies. Cindy was also a gifted musician; to hear her play the piano in the living room was akin to sitting in Carnegie Hall with front-row seats.

But what I remember best were the times I spent with Cindy and her family on the river. Her grandparents owned a simple little two-bedroom, 1950s cabin on Broad Creek (which is a tributary of the Susquehanna River). Many hot, Sunday summer afternoons they invited Rachel and me to "go to the river" with them after church. Their mom "Miss Jeanne" and dad "Mr. Jerry" fed us lunch before leaving home, then we all loaded up the truck, drove to the river, and carried our sleeping bags (for the overnighters), our mini coolers ,and other gear for about a mile through the woods, up steep hills, down ravines, crackling sticks underfoot and dodging branches ahead. It never seemed like a such a long hike because of the fun company.

The cabin sat at the top of a steep ravine. I'm talking maybe a 60 degree angle to the water. Climbing down the "steps" required skill, courage, and surefootedness which, of course, I had back then. I don't think I'd attempt it now, and understand why only the men accompanied us when it was time to swim or boat!

At the river they taught me how to dive, how to kayak, and almost how to water ski. Driving the speed boat was my absolute favorite activity! That, and swimming. We were outside until we could barely see to climb back up to the cabin. There, Miss Jeanne and the grandparents had prepared a big, hearty meal for the starving swimmers! And then we'd play board games or go to the bunks to talk and giggle till Mr. Jerry said "lights out." Sometimes we had to leave on Sunday before dusk in order to pack up the boat that took us to the landing where Mr. Jerry could easily access the truck. I remember few of the rides home because Cindy, Sondra ,Rachel, and I fell asleep in the bed of the truck before we reached the main road.

That summer I learned what it was to be part of a family who got together very often to make a lot of memories with extended family. I never knew what it was like to have my grandparents close by except for two years in Kansas. I think I missed out on a lifetime of learning from the older generation. There remains in my heart a deep yearning for more "grandparent time" that will never happen.

How thankful I am ,though, that God provided other people in my life who were willing and happy to sacrifice a great deal of time and energy to make sweet memories for me, much of which we made at "the river."

Summer in the Projects, Exhibit B: Kitchen Chairs Repainted

I didn't get a "before" picture of this chair and its mates,
but if you look at the table (below), they matched it. I've always liked the table in every way, particularly because it has a butterfly leaf (which means it's hinged in the center and folds away under the table when not needed).

What I decided I didn't like was everything the same color. Boring after 11 years. So black spray to the rescue. All I did to prep was clean each chair with Goo Gone. A perfectionist would have sanded each one also, but I am not that person. So yes, some of the original finish shows through in places, but I am all about two-tone, planned or otherwise.

I also replaced the chair pads in my new favorite color. I happened to find a great bowl ($5 at By Design) in that shade of sea green a couple weeks ago and filled it with fruit.








(If you look closely behind one of the chairs, you will see evidence of yet another project a la Paul: carpet cleaning machine. We broke down and bought instead of rented again; last time we rented a Rug Doctor from a nearby grocery store, there was a trace of cat pee smell in it, which I didn't notice right away ,but our keen sniffer Molly did. She decided to "reclaim her territory" if you know what I mean, while we had the machine . It was a royal pain. So now we have our own machine with our own smells, thank you very much! But I digress.

So, here's Exhibit B: Old Chairs, New Color.