ValerieDykstra.com

marty from reno

It's not safe to talk about anything and everything on my blog like it used to be. With Facebook, anybody and/or their dog can find you. And sometimes they do.

I'm as bad as anyone at creeping people's Facebook. I think of someone I haven't thought about in decades (or since yesterday) and see if they're on Facebook. Finding them I look at their pictures and see who their friends are and then stalk their friends' pictures and then look at their friends' friends . . .  I'm a relatively busy person, but give me some down time and a computer and I can cover lots of territory.

If I do this kind of creeping and stalking, it stands to reason that somebody out there just might be curious about me. It's a stretch, but it could happen. If someone gets as far as finding me on Facebook, it's a simple jump to this site which used to be my little blabbing joint. When I started this blog in 2005 it was a fairly safe place to post my intimate little thoughts. Not quite as safe anymore.

I'm really thankful for my Gordon. I landed a really good husband, much better than I deserve. It's the grace of God, let me assure you. I dated some doozies.

Let's call the fellow in this story Marty and let's pretend he lived in Reno. Marty and I met through work and started talking on the phone. I went to Reno to visit him. Then he came to visit me.

When rabbit owners get ready to breed their rabbits, they take the doe to the buck. If the buck goes to the doe's cage, he's distracted with the change of scenery and doesn't perform. I am similar to bucks this way. Not that I went to Reno to breed, but I was distracted by the change of scenery and stuff to do and was unaware how terribly incompatible Marty and I were. I was into seeing new things and Marty was subsidizing my sight-seeing so I had a good time. I realized afterward that Marty had nothing to do with my enjoying Reno. Nothing whatsoever.

Several weeks passed and Marty decided to visit me. The gender-confused buck in this story was on her home turf and no longer distracted by the scenery. Things were obnoxiously clear; Marty was the worst obsessive compulsive disordered person ever. 

At my house, when I came out of the bathroom he got up and went and straightened the towel I'd just used. After I got a drink and put the glass in the sink he jumped up like a jack-in-the-box to wash it with soap and water. He rearranged my Tupperware and swept the porch. He put my videos in alphabetical order. He always turned my radio and air conditioning off when I stopped the car.

About 12 minutes into Marty's Arkansas vacation, my head was about to blow off. I didn't think I could possibly last two more days. I took him to work hoping to wear him out on the people who had more destructive behaviors than me:  Hey look, Herbie missed a belt loop. Edith has ink on her finger. One of the stalls in the ladies' room is out of toilet paper. Oh drats, the janitor missed this spot. See her chipped nail polish?

My efforts back-fired; colleagues thought my predicament hilarious. The office crew went to lunch and invited Marty. Turned out Marty had a Reno stomach not a greasy Southern-fried one. He got diarrhea from our little diner. For the next six hours he reported all his bowel movements complete with how many sheets of toilet paper each took.

I was beside myself with crazy. We went home and I promptly went to the mailbox to get a breather from him. When I got back to my front door, it was locked. I knocked and he opened the door and told me Stephanie and Christopher were "wild" and asked, "Why can't they be more like your sister Stacie's kids?"

If it were possible for eyeballs to rupture out of one's head in fury, I never would have seen my eyeballs again. I told him I was taking him to the airport. And I did. 27 hours before his plane left.

Some people don't get into Facebook. That's fine, but they shouldn't start a profile and not finish it. 

Last night I told the family about my few long hours with Marty. Out of curiosity I got on Facebook to see if Marty had ever married and see if his kids were noticeably deranged. I found him. His profile had nothing but his age and location, not even a picture. I went to his friends and thought it ironic and hilariously sad when this notice popped up: Marty has no friends.

me tootin' me up

Due to the overwhelming sales of my book, I'm working on volume two. The previous line is of course baloney. Stacie, mocking my sales numbers, said, "I better hurry and get mine before they're all sold out."

I am seriously working on volume two. In the process I ran across these sweet greetings I received many moons ago. You all know I'd rather walk on my lips all day long than toot my own horn. But these are too sweet not to toot up a little. So picture me walking on my lips as you read these toots I received for my birthday several years back. Yeah, I should have waited till I had a birthday to share them, but I was just so overwhelmed with the feely-goodies than I wanted to share them RIGHT NOW.

(Stacie and me, '71 or '72)

Stacie made my day with my first birthday greeting.

"Happy Birthday, Valerie.

You always write such eloquent birthday tributes to those you love and this simple greeting seems so pale in comparison.

What do I love about you: You have the most wonderful humor. You can make me laugh like no other and you laugh with me so whole heartedly. Your writing is so fun to read because it can make me laugh though you are so subtle in the effort. I'm so impressed.

You are a great listener. Truly. You don't interrupt (like me) and I always feel like you really hear. Poor souls that have no one to listen. You listen to me blab on about what I made for dinner, what I wore to work, all the places I went, blah, blah, blah. Wonderful.

You are a willing learner. I mean, you've learned to sew, candle make, quilt make, cake decorate, genealogy sleuth, write, etc? You do it with gusto and competently. I stop before I start because I know I can't be an "expert".....

You are humble. Yes, you are and no, you haven't always been.

You share freely and graciously your mistakes, mis-judgments, hurts, pain, embarrassments, social errors, mis-steps, etc. There is something "freeing" about it when you share your confessions so honestly. God bless this trait.

You are a wonderful sister. I love you so much and I am so blessed to have such a dear dear friend and confidant. You are important to me and I miss you ever so much. Happy birthday, Stacie"

*****

And then, lo and behold, my sister Diane wrote:

(Diane and me, 2000)

"My favorite thing about you is how much fun you are and how easy you laugh. I was thinking about this today, and I've decided that we Callahan kids enjoy ourselves like no others. I mean literally; we enjoy OURSELVES. I enjoy me, you enjoy you, etc., etc. No one laughs harder at our funnies than we laugh at our own. That's the mental picture I got when I was thinking about you today. I could see you making a funny comment and then slapping your knee real hard and laughing boisterously! I laughed just thinking about it (because that's what we do; we laugh at ourselves).

You and I have had soooo many fun times laughing at ourselves and at each other. Do you remember the time we were at the motorcycle rally in Colorado and a guy walked off after talking us near-comatose? Before he was out of earshot, you turned to me and said, "He bores me."

I could go on and on, but you have already written about most of our funniest times, so mine would be redundant and not near as entertaining. You are a great writer. I always laugh out loud when I read your blog.

On a serious note, I appreciate how transparent you have become. You used to protect yourself at all costs, but you have become very vulnerable and "real." I truly appreciate that, but especially since I know how hard it must have been for you.

I remember vividly the day you were born. Do you remember how much I doted on you when you were a little girl? I know, I know, you remember what a witchy older sister I was, but maybe in the recesses of your mind, you can conjure up a memory of when I used to call you "To-Val." Strange nickname, I know, but it was my pet name for you.

I love you and wish you the very happiest of birthdays. Diane"

*****

I couldn't have asked for more feely goodies in one day. But another one came from my aunt, Jill.  

(Twins, Aunt Jill and Mama)

"I love you because you are funny. I love you because you are articulate. I love you because you are intelligent. I love you because you so obviously love me! I love you because you are strong.I love you because you are warm and supportive. I love you most of all because you are you! Jill"

*****

Beautiful. I had all I needed for days and days of high spirits.

You know how I hate talking about myself. Ok, so that's a lie. But you know how it's so much cooler if someone else toots your horn rather than you tootin' you're own? Here's my rootin' tootin' niece Mindi tootin' me up:

(Dustin and his lovely wife Mindi, my niece)

"Valerie, I know that you cannot know what you mean to me. As a child I always felt a bond to you because I was often told that I was so much like you. Little did I know, that the adults in my life were referring mostly to negative traits that we had in common, namely stubbornness. As an adult, I still feel a close bond to you, and now it is because there are traits that I see in you that I admire and want to develop in myself. I admire you as a mother and a wife. I admire your commitment to your marriage, and your commitment to raising your children to be kind people. I admire your skills in the domestic life you lead, as well as the way you push yourself to try new things all the time, even if those new things lead to "butthole roses" in a cake decorating class. I admire your transparency. It is ever so humbling to admit our shortcomings. If you are anything like me, humility is not our strong point. I appreciate your open mind, and for proving that you CAN teach an old dog new tricks. I in no way think you are old or a dog, but I can't think of a better metaphor. Who would have thought that a little country girl from Arkansas, would grow into a tree-hugging, Wal-Mart boycotting Canadian. (All said in jest, of course.) I do admire you Valerie, and love you dearly. I hope your birthday is fabulous. *ching ching*

*****

When the goodness was just too much to imagine anymore,  my sweetheart added this to my day's blessings:

(Gordon and me, 1997ish. Perhaps that's a monstrous zit between my eyes.)

"I love you because you hung on. It has not been easy, but you kept getting up each morning and caring as you could, without going anywhere. I love you because you have learned through much pain to adjust to my weaknesses without kicking back. I love you because you keep trying new things, even when the last thing didn't work out like you planned - including things between us. I love you because you love our kids, and do your best to bring out their best, even after they have annoyed you into temporary isolation. And, I love you because you kept on laughing at my weird, silly, and sometimes asinine comments, and then went and cooked a meal or did the laundry or just prayed for all of us. I guess if you get right down to it, I love you because in spite of how life works out sometimes, you have been faithful to me, our kids, our life together, and our common Lord, in big and small ways, even when it was the hardest thing in the world for you to do. And I'm thankful to God for it. Will you be my Valentine, Valerie? Love, Gordon"

That day was a most glorious birthday. I don't think I've ever received so many kind words. I was truly blessed that day and re-reading them today, I was blessed all over again.

Thanks for listening as I tooted.

my book is coming soon

Coming soon, . . .

my book. :-)))))))
 

This is my 1000th post

Howdy. It's a lovely bright day here in Alberta and I'm soaking up the sunshine. I hope you are enjoying this fine Friday as well.

THIS IS MY 1000th POST on this blog. One might call me verbose, but remember, I'm only verbose in written form. Usually, anyway.

I had a birthday. Turned thirty-fourteen. I'm not getting any younger and complained to Gordon that my face falls a bit more everyday. He assures me he'll still love me even if I have to carry my face in my purse to keep it from dragging.

He is an absolute amazing support and friend to me. This table is what I woke to on Sunday morning, my birthday and Valentines Day. The girls and I always feel so loved on Valentines Day. I was about to get my breakfast on this morning when I spotted the table. I said, "Awwh," forewent the toast and grabbed three cookies and said, "gotta jump start the ole metabolism." It was an amazing day. Thank you, My Love.

I got a special gift, my blog made into books. They are huge -- even I had no clue I said so much over the past few years. Now I'm busy editing, deleting, cleaning up my spelling and grammar. When I get done, I'm turning them into real hardcover books. Anyone want to buy an over-priced book? I say "over-priced" because they are expensive when printing so few, but once I get them cleaned up -- that's a very big and time-consuming job -- I'll be happy to print a few extra just for you. They will make great bathroom reading. My kids are fighting over the books and laughing out loud frequently. Gordon and I have done some of the same.

I'm taking a wee break from posting fresh new stuff. I'm going to devote my blogging time to editing my book. However, keep reading this blog because I'll still be here recycling old posts. To celebrate my 1000th post I'm doing reruns. I hope you'll enjoy them. If you have a favorite, just let me know and I'll put it out there again. 

So keep visiting. Who knows what you'll find.

2010 goals

"Create the kind of life you will be happy to live with all your life. Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement."  Foster C. McClellan

If you've been reading this blog long, you probably already know that I'm passionate about self-improvement. Part of that is liking a challenge, but the bigger part is I get high on accomplishment. Accomplishments are to me what endorphins are to an athlete. I love to set a goal and work toward it.

 "All lasting inner change requires time "*

I know how discouraging it is to set a goal and fall flat. I've done it plenty of times. But somewhere along the way I figured out and internalized that moving in the right direction is good, really good. Now I can be happy making improvement even if I don't reach the goal.

"Daily incremental improvements produce lasting results which, in turn, lead to positive change."*

It's all in the baby steps. "Baby steps" remains my mantra.

"There is nothing noble about being superior to another person. True nobility lies in being superior to your former self."*

I'm competitive within myself. I like to break my own records. I love knowing that I'm getting better.

"We think about 60,000 thoughts a day. By writing your desires and goals on paper you send a red flag to your subconscious mind that these thoughts are far more important than the remaining 59,999 other ones."*

I think the key ingredients of the small measure of success I've enjoyed in reaching my goals is simply writing them down. This blog is a great resource for me in that way. There's always a record and that creates an element of accountability for me.

"The best time to plant a tree was 40 years ago. The second best time is today." Chinese proverb

This quote is my favorite with respect to the physical body. It's hard to change a life-time of bad habits. It's hard to be encouraged by the loss of 5 pounds when you're 100 pounds overweight. It's hard to be pleased with walking around the block when you'd really like to be running a marathon.

Most of us didn't get a perfect start in this area but the only way we can change the pattern is to start fresh everyday and not focus on the past. Start fresh with small steps. Instead of saying today I'll only eat 1000 calories, saying today I will eat an apple for a snack.

Kaizen is a Japanese word that means improving every aspect of yourself ceaselessly and continuously.*

Evidently we don't have a similar word in English. So I've adopted this word, kaizen, as the state in which I want to live. I want to be headed in the right direction and improving all the time. That's the idea.

"Every arrow that hits the bull's eye is a result of 100 misses. Don't fear failure. Failure is your friend."*

In the spirit of that last quote, I'll now share my 2010 goals.

• Begin every day with quiet time with God. 
• Buy a new Bible.
• Do my treadmill routine four times a week.
• Have a regular date night with Gordon, every other week.
• Have lunch with one of the girls once a week.
• Keep a 5 pound weight at the computer and lift repeatedly as I surf.
• Walk on my lunch break.
• Make two dinners (one for later in the week, of course) on my Monday's off.
• Have a Christmas party for Deborah and her friends making Christmas cookies and a craft.
• For snacks at work, keep only apples or carrots on hand.
• Run in a 5k.
• Have a regular coffee date with my friend Lydia.
• Take a yoga class.
• Start buying 1% milk.
• Mail a special gift to my siblings.
• Get a new clothesline.
• Ride bike to Morinville.
• Get my hearing checked.
• Get an eye exam.
• Get an estimate for a gas insert for the fireplace.
• Be a better friend.
• Read all the BBC top 50.

My list isn't grandiose at all, is it? But it's keeps me headed in the right direction. It's the beginning of February, and I'm on track, and lovin' it.

* Taken from The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari, by Robin Sharma, one of my favorite books.

2009 high points

 
made lots of homemade jam

rode my bike to work very often in the spring and summer

had a 24 mile bike ride

made Roman an I Spy with my Little Eye quilt

made Avery a rag quilt

read over 60 books

started reading the BBC top 100 book list; am reading things I never would have without the list and I am expanding my knowledge in lots of areas

took the plunge on volunteering at the prison

got my craft room more functional

had a great visit to Arkansas

made it through the year without complaining in front of the kids about a certain topic

got a new job that's teaching me lots

new job

 

Avery and Beppie, holding hands. Oct 2009

Folks I'm sorry about how negligent I've been with this blog. And this post isn't about how I'm going to do better. Matter of fact, I'm pretty well promising you that I'm not going to be posting much over the next little while.

I have a new job and am quite the busy little beaver right now. This blog is the first thing that has to go. Not that it's going anywhere, and not that I won't eventually get better at balancing my demands, but just for now, it's got to be a low priority. You do understand, don't you?

I have a new bookkeeping job and it's been nearly 20 years since I did the bookkeeping thing. So, think tension. But I'm loving it and very thankful for a good job, good environment,...

But on a lighter note,... Do we all hate job hunting? I'm assuming we do. I do. I hate nearly everything about job hunting, so I'm very thankful that I got the first job I interviewed for. For this interview, I wasn't well prepared. I got home from Arkansas at 3:30 am and had this interview at 10 am. I felt rushed and ill-prepared.

While I was in Arkansas, my sister Diane and I were sharing funnies and agreed that we both get a real kick out of thinking "what might have been". For example, we imagine how funny something would have been if someone had said such and such during such and such time. We shared potential funny stories, but to us they were already funny because they were playing like real life in our minds. I had one of those "what might have been" funny scenarios running through my brain during my interview.

I was Ill-prepared, like I said. I had not mentally prepared for possible questions and my brilliant answers. I was totally flying by the seat of my pants. Then interviewer (now boss, thankfully) asked me to name my strengths. Putting my most poised foot forward, I nervously began to list them. And list them. And list them some more. If there was another flattering word in the English language, it escaped me.

Then she asked about my greatest weakness. This very question tripped me up the last time I had an interview and I made a mental note to rehearse my answer for my next interview. Forgot I'd made that mental note, so I stammered and stuttered trying to answer coherently. I have plenty of weaknesses, but most of them don't really pertain to the job setting. Sure I could have told her about my flossing negligence, about the people I dislike and how it's their issue not my own. I could have told her about my cooking abilities, how they seem to be digressing with age. Or about that gunky-buildup on the floor around the toilets. I could have told her I eat too much and sleep too much. In real life, I'm quick to admit that I abhor the telephone, but that probably isn't the right thing to admit in a job interview.

I stammered a bit and then had a flash of what-might-have-been humor. I imagined a scene that would fit with Bill Murray in What About Bob?.

After losing my breath telling my bajillion strengths, to her "tell me your greatest weakness," I imagined myself deflated-ly and in somber seriousness saying, "self-loathing."

I still chuckle when I imagine that scene that never happened.

So Valerie, tell me some of your greatest strengths.

I'd be happy to. Blah blah blah blah... I'm really good at blah blah blah blah. ... Repeatedly I've been told I'm amazing at blah blah blah blah. I take great pride in blah blah blah blah. I should probably mention, blah blah blah...

And your greatest weakness?...

Self loathing.

:-))))

You're probably wondering what I really answered and I honestly can't remember, except that it was stupid. It was so stupid that I might as well have said how repulsed I am by KFC's greasy chicken. My answer had nothing to do with anything. While I was saying it, I was thinking, this is so stupid and that's the part I remember, not what I really said.

It's a stretch trying to tell a story that only happened in my head. But maybe I told it well enough that at least Diane will get it, since she shares the same propensity to imagine what would be funny if all the stars lined up just so.

Bottom line for this post: New job, very thankful. Blogging commitment on hold until I get better at juggling the new demands.

Thank you for your patience.

Swearing, Cussing and such. I'm serious.

“When I decided to marry Peter and go to the country to live, I had expected to learn new things and meet new people; what I hadn’t expected was to be changed myself in elemental ways by my new environment, not thinking that an environment in itself could change one in any essential way.”  Sharon Butala in The Perfection of the Morning; An Apprenticeship in Nature

I just finished the above book. That quote jumped out at me, instantly giving me an a-hah moment. It is true for me although I’d never articulated it with such clarity. I’ve been in Canada for 16 years and have spent more adult life here than in the US. I’ve been here just the right amount of time to be regularly confused. (This just the right amount of time has been the case for about 5 years now). Sometimes I’ll begin to say something and stumble and falter trying to decide which pronunciation I’m to use and which pronunciation goes with which country. I can’t think of a good example at the moment, so I’ll use the color mauve to illustrate. In Canada mauve is pronounced mov with a long o. In Arkansas, it’s mov with a short o. Two very different pronunciations which rend “huh?” from the listener if I mistakenly use the wrong one. But I easily get confused and wonder which pronunciation to use in both places. It’s a strange feeling.

Also things like kitty-corner/kaddy-corner; I often get confused on those type things. Matter of fact, I don’t know which one goes with which location even as I think about it right now. Honestly, I stammer quite a lot trying to ascertain things as I’m speaking. One looks ignorant using the wrong word. I’ve actually been corrected by folks in both locations for some pronunciations; people who have no idea that there is a just-as-acceptable-in-a-different-part-of-the-world pronunciation.

It my earliest days here a lady and I were talking about wills, you know, last will and testament. Even though we were on the subject of wills, when I said “will” she didn’t know what I meant. When I spelled it, she said, “Oh, will.” It still happens with pen and Jen. Now when someone introduces themselves as Jen, I ask if they are a Jennifer and if I can call them Jennifer. I cannot pronounce Jen. It sounds like gin and confuses people. (If you want to take a quiz about your way of speaking, here is one:  http://www.gotoquiz.com/what_american_accent_do_you_have).

I’m in a book club (with other Americans) and we’re having lively discussions from a book we’re reading. A couple weeks ago I shared this quote:  "I have three things I'd like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a shit. What's worse is that you're more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night." Tony Campolo  I like the quote but in our discussions, I realized how very very Canadianized I’ve become. Shit is an ugly word, quite an ugly word, but in the above context I’m far from offended by it. Not so with some.

In one of my first church services in Canada, I was mildly traumatized when the pastor, while praying for a parishioner with cancer, said something to the effect of “God, how we hate this damn cancer.” I honestly couldn’t believe it and thought about it for days. It was quite a big deal to me. But as I meditated on it, I began to see a side of the issue I’d never seen before. Cancer is damned cancer. One day it will be damned forever. Same with pedophilia and pornography; damned pedophilia and damned pornography are accurate descriptions. But this is a Canadianized deduction. I heard the same pastor say shit in a churchy meeting too. And, to my deduction, he wasn’t swearing, he was accurately describing something.

We moved to Edmonton and my new pastor said some words that would have been scandalous in the church of my youth and others I’ve attended. Back in Gordon’s seminary days, he went for a brief counseling session with a famous Bible teacher/pastor/writer that you’d know by name. I don’t write it here because it will be grossly offensive to some. My intent is to show how cultures seep into our beings without us even knowing it. Anyway, Gordon’s purpose for visiting this man was to talk about lust and its guilt inducing emotions and such things that are common to young (any?) men. In the course of their conversation, the famous, Godly, teacher/pastor/writer reminded Gordon that love is far more than a cheap f---. Yes, he used the actual word. Gordon was not at all offended, as f--- really fit the context, -- to a Canadian. We don’t refer to loving relationship sex as f---. That gross word is for cheap sex that’s void of anything sacred and loving. Right?

Okay, so last week I was having the conversation with some book club mates and I mentioned speaking at a Christian ladies’ group and referring to some of my past as “my shitty past.” From my point of view that’s an accurate and honest and fitting description. I think my mates were mildly horrified. J But I didn’t say it for impact, to be risqué, and especially not to offend. I said it because it was honest and fitting, and perhaps also, because I was unwise. As my book-club mates and I bantered this back and forth, I realized how I’d changed “in elemental ways by my new environment, not thinking that an environment in itself could change one in any essential way.”

I imagined what would happen if someone said any of the above examples in the church of my youth. Scandalous cannot accurately depict the fallout that would follow. I realized how wrong and sinful and utterly horrible those words would be in another environment. I would never say anything “bad” in these settings.

I’m left wondering if God visits us all in a way that is fitting to us culturally. My thoughts, perhaps wrong, are that he does. I told my friends who I had the discussion with that I’ve prayed those words and felt no shame. I’ve cried (literally) out, “God, I’m so tired of this shit.”

To my credit, I want to say I don’t think I’ve ever said any of these words in a non-Christian setting. I am conscious of “my testimony” and don’t want to hurt it or the Christian community. I’ll defend any of the people whom I’ve used in my examples. They are all fine upstanding Christians and all walk in utmost integrity.

These thoughts have been on my mind. Maybe you, dear reader, are horribly offended and mildly traumatized to hear of people who “swear” in church. Maybe I’ve written it out poorly and it still seems so wrong to talk this way. But I want to know if you can understand where I am, and the others I’ve quoted, are coming from? Any one up for the discussion? I’d like to hear your (polite, even if contrary) thoughts.

i'm feelin' groovy

Happy Monday Folks. If you're keeping track, you know I wasn't around last week. I was very sick with the Norwalk Virus. I thought for sure I was going to throw-up my toenails, but that is probably more detail than you'd hoped for. I try to be open-minded and learn stuff along the way, no matter what the situation. In my sickness I re-learned a few lessons about myself.

I am not a fighter. Many times I've watched sick people "fight" their illness and cling tenaciously to life. If I should ever get a life-threatening illness, I can tell you right now, if it causes me any sickness or pain, which I assume most life-threatening illnesses would cause either pain or sickness, I will succumb sooner rather that later.

As I hugged the porcelain last week, I found myself saying, "God take me now." And a couple times when Gordon came to check on me lying on the bathroom floor, I mouthed, "Please shoot me." We don't even own a gun, but at the time it seemed so logical.

Some people might read what I just wrote and think how awful I am to speak those words. After all, life and death are in the power of the tongue, and, some might say, I'm speaking death words. I think that's a bunch of hooey. I know my days are numbered and God knew my last day long before he even created me. So I don't buy the idea that I can bring physical death to myself by saying  I'd rather die than live sick. And if I did believe it, I'd have lain vigil on the bathroom floor last week saying I'm dying, I'm dying just to end the agony.

(On the other hand, I believe with everything in me that I can speak death or life words into the lives of others. Through my words I can sow positive thoughts into my kids or negative. I can sow life-giving words or life-sucking words. And I choose to sow life most of the time. I'm working on all the time, but I am a work in progress.) 

Last week as I heaved my kneecaps up to my chest bone I had numerous thoughts. One, I am thoroughly convinced that throwing up so much through six pregnancies has left my innards deformed. I think there are things that no longer work, like the shut off valve. When most people are through vomiting, they stop. Right? That's not rocket science. It doesn't work for me. I keep heaving until all the bunyans are dislodged and an hour's worth of pee has escaped. And I'm very loud and I have no control over the volume. Trust me, if I could control the volume I would. After all, I've thrown up in more public places than I care to think about. Yes, it would be nice to delicately puke in Walmart's purse department, gingerly wipe my face and move on, but no, that's not the way it works. Masses have gathered and watched me and offered to call ambulances and such, and all the while I say, "No, really I'm fine. This is just something I do."

When I was pregnant with Rachael, we lived in an apartment - very unfortunate for my fellow apartment dwellers. I vomited often and loudly. One rare moment of bliss, Gordon and I were laying on the sofa talking. Suddenly we heard the people beneath us making the most awful noises. We quietened to listen. Then Gordon and I said in unison: "They're making fun of you [me]." They had company over and were showing the company what they had to listen to regularly. I was embarrassed and felt so vulnerable. I wanted Gordon to go and confront them and say something to make them choose a higher road. Instead he said, "Boy, are they ever good. That sounds just like you. This is so hilarious."

Last week Mindi announced that our Photo Challenge Color for March is green. Because I was sick and thinking sick thoughts, I was reminded of my neon green vomit days with Stephanie's pregnancy. Yes, I have a vomit story for just about every occasion. You may be thinking that I'm lying. I'm considering doing a series on some of my public vomiting experiences. Now that's a series I've never seen before.

:-)

G & V as babies

No wonder we have cute kids. We were cute babies too. Valerie

Gordon

25 things about a b'day girl

I had a birthday over the weekend and received many well wishes. It was a good day. This is what was on the kitchen table when I got up on Saturday morning.

Recently there has been this "25 things about me" list going around on Facebook. Here's my list.

1. I'm the youngest child in the family. I have a brother and two sisters that I love very much. They are all dysfunctional and count on me to help them along life's highway with some semblance of normality.

2. I am in an online bookclub with "kids" I was in junior high with. Our teacher is in the same bookclub. How weird is that? But it's beautiful to be connected.

3. I have been in 47 US states, many of them on a motorcycle.

4. I toured the US on motorcycle in 1992.

5. Besides the brother and two sisters I've already mentioned, there was another daughter. Her name was Deborah and she died when she was almost 2 of a brain tumor. She is why I named my baby Deborah.

6. In 1991 I was in China, Hong Kong, Thailand, and Vietnam.

7. Going to Vietnam with a US passport when the US had sanctions against Vietnam still has repercussions with US immigration.

8. I'm about to go public for the first time with my biggest self-development goal. Here goes... I want to be a marathon runner.

9. On Wednesday I'm going to my first Weight Watchers meeting. Yikes, that's embarrassing.

10. For most of the time Gordon and I have been married, we've had extra people living with us. Either foster children or foreign exchange students. I've been foster mom to 15 children and home-stay mom to 17 foreign students (many of those were short term). No one has lived with us since 2004.

11. I studied Business. That cracks me up now as I have NOOO interest in it.

12. I received a full scholarship to East Texas Baptist University.

13. I love St Francis of Assisi. I have tried to join the Ecumenical (as in non-Catholic and open to married) Order of Franciscans on three occasions. I never succeeded.

14. I have done freelance writing under a pen name that I've never told a soul. It's such a pretty name.

15. I have a huge desire to do a volunteer vacations in third world countries throughout the world. Some day we (the whole family) hope to take a year off for just that.

16. A few of my heroes are Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Winston Churchill, Mother Teresa, Gary Larson.

17. 25 interesting things is pretty hard to come up with... I won 2 gold medals this past summer in dragon boating. And I went to physical fitness boot camp for 7 weeks this past fall.

18. I sympathize with vegetarianism. I am repulsed by lots of meat. I'm not a vegetarian yet, but I think it's coming. Gordon and the girls still want meat.

19. Weddings give me panic attacks.

20. I've been blogging since 2005.

21. I drive very slowly. I think that comes from years of speeding through life, or at least pretending to be speeding through life.

22. I have gone through serious depressions that have lasted years.

23. I haven't had television in over 20 years. I do not miss it.

24. I love simple living, I love living simply. I'm becoming a minimalist.

25. Other than mortgages on two houses, Gordon and I are nearly debt free.

2008 most memorable moments

A few weeks ago someone posed the question what my three most memorable moments in 2008. This was my answer.

1) Becoming a Canadian citizen

2) Crossing the finish line for my first gold medal in dragon boating.

3) My grandson’s face when he got off the plane when he and my daughter came to visit.

I would have felt very blessed by any one of these things. Experiencing all three helped create an exceptionally good year.

Labels: 2008, photos

links to some good reading

I have an annoying habit of sending myself emails. Usually they are notes to remind me of something I need to do at work or at home depending on where I sent the email of course.

I subscribe to a number of blogs that challenge and encourage me. Through bloglines.com new posts come to me instead of me searching all my favorite blogs looking for updates. We all know how annoying that is. :) Wonderful helpful info just shows up for me to read at my leisure. Often times I just skim it yet other times there is some great info that I'm grateful to learn or be challenged to think about.

Presently my inbox is full of things from me to me and I need to dump them somewhere. Remember that this blog is my magnificent virtual filing cabinet serving me remarkably well as a record of stuff. So this is an email dump posting. These are links that I've emailed myself so I can store them here on this blog. Maybe you'll glean something from them too.

I love some of these quotes.

I love this picture and found this post a sweet meditation for Christmas. I should have linked to this last week as maybe one of you would have found it inspirational as well.

I love setting goals for each new year and I find doing so extremely beneficial. I think this post is really good for anyone who struggles with the particulars of making goals.

I am a journal-er. I write down tons of thoughts, feelings, prayers, etc. I told a friend recently that it is imperative that I write things down. If I didn't write things down I wouldn't know what I think. I feel things easily, but often until I write it out, I may not know what I think on the subject. For instance tonight was incredibly stressful for me. I thought my head was going to blow off with emotions. I needed to get my journal out ASAP to figure out what was going on. I'm not saying writing things down solves my problems but it goes a long long ways to give me perspective.

Several months ago I was terribly agitated by a meeting at work. I was tapped right out emotionally by the time it was over. That night as I dumped my feelings into my journal, God gave me incredible insight into why I got so agitated. I might still have heart palpitations to think of that meeting had it not been for journalling. Journalling saved the day and I cannot count the times that has happened. That is why this article is significant to me. The numbered points that he makes are so bang on for how I experience journaling.

Being a stay-at-home mom when my kids were little was one of the best choices/sacrifices I ever made. I haven't one regret in that department. I'm out of that stage of life now that the kids are bigger, but the subject matter is still near and dear to my heart. That is why this article is special.

As you may have deduced from my blog and other things I've said or done, I love simple living and am on a continual quest for simplicity. Articles like this one remind me of why I embrace it. They make me smile and think, "Yes, this is it!"

Similar to the above article, this one itemizes some of the benefits very succinctly.I love simplicity and this article lists many of the reasons why very well.

And here's just one more article on simplicity. The paragraph that mentions CS Lewis is the one that made this post especially noteworthy.

This article was good for me to see ways to reduce stress in home life. I'm still a nag in plenty of ways, (the article didn't cure me), but I found her observations clever and insightful.

And lastly, I emailed myself this quote: “If you don’t like something change it; if you can’t change it, change the way you think about it.” - Mary Engelbreit

The reason this quote is presently striking a chord with me is simply this; winter. Right now it's -30 and it's just, well, it's cold. Several months ago a friend astonded me by saying that winter is her favorite season. Honestly, it had never occured to me that winter was anyone's favorite season. I was flabbergasted. Winter is my least favorite season which explains very logically why I moved 2500 miles north to live where it's winter nearly half the year. I love Canada but I wish it was a mite warmer. :)

This quote encourages me to change the way I think about winter. I'm trying to find things to enjoy and love and embrace about this cold white season. A few years ago I was able to change my thinking about mosquitoes. I still don't like them but I don't hate them passionately like I used to. If I can change my attitude toward mosquitoes I figure I can do it with winter too. I'm trying and this quote helps me.

So there you have it. This post went a long ways to cleaning out my inbox. There is a lot of good reading represented here. Let me know what you think.

Labels: article, quotes

fushia thong (made you look)

A few days ago at the gym I had the pleasure of standing behind a fit little thing in the dressing room. As she disrobed she took great interest in her toes. Seemingly she had lots of lint between them and needed to tidy things up. The whole time I changed clothes she was bent over cleaning between her toes.

Her thong was fushia and I'd be remiss to not admit she wore it quite nicely and proudly. But the toe thing,... I got a little suspicious. I think she wanted me to see her cute butt and how fit she was. Truly it was a bit odd how long she stayed bent over with her butt as the main attraction.

Well once that suspicion kicked in, I could barely control my giggles. Everything in me wanted to tap her shoulder and say, "Excuse me, you've got something in your butt crack."

When I left her she was still toying with her toes. Sure she looked better in a fushia thong than I would, but I think I have the better time. "Excuse me, you've got something in your butt crack." I so amuse myself.

Labels: funnies

Thanksgiving 23 A Speaking Engagement

Sometimes the changes in me make me stop and wonder, "Who are you Girl?" I used to be terrified to speak in public. I had to do it on occasion and I covered those times with prayer, fasting, and a good amount of nervous sickness. Sometimes I think, "Wow, look at how I've matured," other times I think my www friend Joan has the right idea. See what I mean by that by clicking here.

A few nights ago I had the honor of speaking to a ladies group (Women's Ministry). Amazingly I wasn't nervous. I often hear what a great sense of humor I've got and how well I tell a story. I've accepted that perhaps these things are gifts that I'm supposed to use. Out on a limb, I started my little talk to a bunch of church ladies with this story and then this story. It worked. My audience laughed lots. One old lady had tears running down her face.

I spoke on how I have a lot of joy in my life but how misleading it would be to not tell the other side of my life. I shared my submission to the book called Six Word Memoir. Then I shared this stuff and other bits from my life. And I ended with this.

It went well. (Of course I laid awake that night tormenting myself with, "You are such an idiot." "Never before has one so stupid had a mike in front of them." "When word spreads, even more people will know what an ass you are." Sweet thoughts, oh such nice things played through my brain).

After the event was over and people were mingling, several ladies told me some snippets of their story. I'm always touched by what the person across the room has been through. Everyone, every single person, has a story to tell. Some people haven't plunged the depths of their souls and therefore can't articulate their story, but I am convinced that everyone doesn't just have a story, but that everyone has an interesting story. I'm glad to have regurgitated my story enough to be able to articulate some of it. I hope and pray that no matter what may happen in my life I'll always be able to cling to the Romans 8:28 factor; that I'll always be able to comfort myself by saying, "Every thing that's happened so far in my life, God has brought good out of. He will do the same in this situation too."

Labels: thanksgiving

citizenship

Yesterday, with 92 others - representing 29 countries, - I became a Canadian citizen. I am very excited about it.

Labels: photos

Thanksgiving 4

I'm strong in body

Yesterday I had the opportunity to help a lady I go to church with. She's recently diagnosed with cancer and is in a lot of pain. She's recently moved into a new house and her kitchen grout was dirty. It was bothering her but she's physically unable to tackle the job. It was a big job but I got her grout clean. I'm thankful for my own health and ability to do that kind of work.

(Her grout wasn't nearly as bad as mine is. There's a touch of irony and humor in me cleaning her grout when mine is clearly more in need of it. I told Gordon I was going to go figure out how to clean grout, come home and show him how to clean ours. He didn't think that was as funny as I did.)

Labels: thanksgiving

photos of romie boy

Even while I was there I could tell Roman was growing. He must have gained a few pounds and inches. He was much fuller when I left there than when I arrived. He wears stripes much better than his Beppie does.

I don't know what I'll do without this little smiley-face greeting every morning.

3 generations of love. Roman, me, and Stephie Pooh. (I had on my chubby suit this day.)

Beppie and Roman

This boy loves his mommy so much.

chinese food

(HanEy and Hannah, 1997)

Tonight we went out for Chinese food. Hannah passed off a piece of ginger beef that she thought looked "disgusting." That reminded me of something that happened to me about ten years ago.

We had a Korean teenager living with us and Rachael and Hannah were both babies. After church one day we went to a Chinese buffet. Gordon fixed my plate as I stayed behind putting babies in high chairs. Shortly he and HanEy returned with our plates. We prayed and began eating. Before long I came across what I was sure was an aborted baby's hand in my ginger beef. I was mortified -- stricken completely speechless. I sat 100% stunned, unable to even raise my head.

My mind was racing, computing dozens of scenarios. I knew I had stumbled onto serious criminal activity and was trying desperately to ascertain a working plan of how to handle this. I knew if I went to the proprietor with such I thing, he could grab it from me and destroy the evidence. I was thinking the logical thing to do was wrap it in a napkin and take it to a police station. Still I sat there very close to vomiting, unable to speak.

Aware of nothing but the horror in my plate, I slowly became conscious of laughter beside me. I looked up prepared to shatter any light mood that existed at the table. HanEy and Gordon were looking at me laughing. They were saying things like, "It's a chicken's foot," and "It's just a joke." They had no idea the horrifying images running through my head.

When I finally grasped what they were saying, that what I thought was an aborted baby's hand was actually a battered and fried chicken's foot, it was way too late to redeem the situation. I was sick to my stomach and very near tears.

I took one of the girls and went and sat in the car while they finished eating. I was so upset; not by their joke, but by the horrible images that had just been in my head. My adrenaline was pumping as if I'd just witnessed a murder.

It was several years before I ate ginger beef again. We never went back to that restaurant which before that day had been considered a "special" place. And until tonight, I guess I've not thought of that most horrific image in several years.

 

butts, big and small

Another Capernwray story.

One evening Gordon and I arrived at "Bistro Night" a little early. We were supposed to meet another couple, but couldn't find them. We faced different directions as we looked for them. I didn't see them where I searched.

I turned around and started looking in the direction Gordon was looking. While we stood there looking I put my hand on Gordon's butt and started muttering about what we should do next. I kept looking over the patios, but as I did, I started fiddling with Gordon's butt. Now I realize that I was aware something wasn't quite right, but at the time, I was feeling around for clues. Now I realize that his butt didn't feel right but at the time I was just feeling around trying to figure what was awry.

Before this event I don't think I could have told you that Gordon's wallet is always in his right pocket. I didn't realize that was something I knew. But this butt I had hold of had a wallet in the left pocket. Something was weird about that. Evidently I was pretty engrossed in locating this other couple, because I kept mumbling who knows what and groping this butt to figure out what wasn't quite right.

As I groped I realized another thing: this butt was flatter than it should be. Gordon has a very round butt. So help me I don't know why I didn't put all these pieces together, but I didn't. I kept mumbling and kind of squishing this butt in my hand trying to figure out why Gordon felt weird.

The man muttered a-very-in-control, "Val?"

I turned toward him and started screaming like an idiot. Then I started stamping like I was doing an Indian pow-wow (except lots faster) and shaking my hand like I was trying to get bugs off it. As far as I know, no words were coming out of my mouth, just screaming. I saw Gordon about twenty feet from me. I ran to him and buried my face in his chest. I told him what I'd done and he started laughing.

The wife of the man I'd fondled came over to me laughing. She'd seen the whole thing, as did a few others. Everyone was laughing and commenting on how red my face was.

The wife sat down beside me, still laughing. She told me a story that she said she'd told so few people because of how terribly embarrassing it had been. And truly her story made me feel better as her goof was lots worse than mine.

When she and Bill were on their honeymoon, they went to a mall. Bill wanted to look at tools, she wanted to look elsewhere. When she came back to the tool section, she found Bill squatting looking at the tools on the lowest shelf. She noticed he had a hole in the butt of his pants. She snuck up and put her index finger in it and did the gichy-gichy-goo squiggly movement.

The man jumped up screaming. It wasn't Bill. She screamed. He yelled. She screamed. She ran.

She said after what I did to Bill she felt she could tell me that story.

The next day another lady came up to me and mentioned my "eventful evening" the night before. I thought she was talking about some of the kids' antics. But then she said, "At 1:00 this morning we were laying in bed laughing thinking of the look on your face."

So that is me. I try to bring cheer wherever I go.

kayak

This is a Capernwray story. I wanted to canoe all week, to go to a small islands and look the seals in the eyes. I expected my canoeing expedition to be invigorating and deeply spiritual.

My husband however wanted to kayak. So kayak it was. To use the kayaks I had to sit through a brief safety lesson. I had heard it several times with the kids (who had gone tubing, canoeing, kayaking, and speed boating). I had on a life vest, so I knew I wouldn't drown, and really that settled the safety issues for me. Besides they claimed the kayaks were practically un-flippable. (I wondered when I heard that if ever there was a person with more flippable prowess than myself.)

The only thing I was actually concerned with was fitting in the kayak. For three days I occasionally wandered up and down the boat dock where the kayaks were to "size up the situation." I needed more privacy than was afforded me, so I didn't get to see if I fit in the privacy of my own, uh, my own ocean.

So on the fateful day, I decided to just do it. I squeezed myself into the kayak and was very pleased to find I had a few centimeters to spare. I was set. I got out and preceded to put on the splash skirt. This was a silly little rubber skirt that one wears to keep water out of the kayak. The safety lecture stated clearly that we had to wear the splash skirt.

My fear regarding fitting into the kayak wasn't grounded, but the skirt was a different story. I pulled, wriggled, and squirmed right there in plain sight. I decided, in the interest of pride, to forgo it. I would have fit, I was just too proud to continue shimmying on the dock. Gordon hesitantly went along with my plan but made it clear he had a problem with my rebellion.

We had a sweet trip to and from one of the islands. It was nice, really really nice. But because of my guilt regarding not having on the silly skirt, we didn't "land" we just turned around. I didn't frolic with the seals.

As we were nearing the dock, a lifeguard - the one who had conducted my safety lesson - started walking toward us on the dock. I panicked. I didn't want him to see I had disobeyed the rules regarding the splash skirt. I kept paddling like I was planning to drive right up on top of the dock. Thud! The kayak collided with the dock.

I desperately wanted to disembark the kayak before he noticed my missing skirt. I pulled myself up and began my cultured exit. Gordon started screaming, "VALERIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The lifeguard's eyes said the same. With extraordinary delicacy and grace I heaved and hauled myself out of the seat. The last thing I heard was "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I went under water. The practically un-flippable vessel capsized with Gordon in it.

When I surfaced, my husband growled, "You crazy woman, what were you thinking?" Others gathered to help the lifeguard and Gordon right and empty the boat.

The lifeguard never mentioned the splash skirt.

I walked to land.

riding vs writing

Recently a lady told me she writes too and had a ridiculous conversation that made little sense. Finally I figured out she was talking riding (horses) and I was talking writing.

De'ja vu. It happened again last night. Some how this man and I ending up talking about hobbies and I told him I write. He was impressed. English or Western?, he wanted to know.

I froze. I knew this was familiar and I knew there was an explanation. I stared at him for a few seconds hoping I'd remember the explanation. I did, and only after a couple seconds' hesitation.

I guess "writing" is a word that my southern-ness doesn't allow me to say properly. Next time I say it, I'll enunciate it as best I can. I enjoy wriTing. That should help me out.

traffic circle

Rachael and Deborah had orthodontist appointments this morning. I chose a sunny window to sit and think profound thoughts. The profound thoughts alluded me, but I enjoyed a reminder of the past.

From the forth floor window, I looked down at the traffic circle below. That vantage point was one I'd never had -- looking down on the dreaded traffic circle.

Before moving here, I'd never encountered a traffic circle. I have friends who will drive blocks out of their way to avoid a round-a-bout. I joke that when I'm driving through a traffic circle, I close my eyes, accelerate, and hope for the best.

This morning as I looked down on the traffic circle, I remembered one of my earliest traffic circle experiences. I was taking my foster daughter, Angel, to the dentist; a dentist in this same complex.

I approached the traffic circle with significant trepidation. Gordon had prepped me on traffic circle protocol; the inside lane always has the right of way. This detail still baffles me. Obeying directions, I chose the inside lane. I kept driving around the traffic circle like it was an automobile merry-go-round. The third time past her dentist's office, 8-year-old Angel astutely asked, "What are you doing?"

I answered, "I'm trying to figure out how to get out of this traffic circle alive."

Notice how the yellow lane can pull in front of the red lane. This is the part that gets me.

The idea behind a traffic circle, is to keep traffic flowing. There are no stop signs or traffic lights. Four or five roads intersect and everyone keeps going. The outside lane yields to the inside lane.

People say it makes perfect sense and stuff like that. I guess maybe there is some merit to that, but I've seen many "near misses" so that alone tells me it's not perfectly clear.

 

 

happy birthday to me

I received this lovely birthday greeting and am still basking in its make-me-feel-good-ness. Stacie made my day with my first birthday greeting.

"Happy Birthday, Valerie.

You always write such eloquent birthday tributes to those you love and this simple greeting seems so pale in comparison.

What do I love about you: You have the most wonderful humor. You can make me laugh like no other and you laugh with me so whole heartedly. Your writing is so fun to read because it can make me laugh though you are so subtle in the effort. I'm so impressed.

You are a great listener. Truly. You don't interrupt (like me) and I always feel like you really hear. Poor souls that have no one to listen. You listen to me blab on about what I made for dinner, what I wore to work, all the places I went, blah, blah, blah. Wonderful.

You are a willing learner. I mean, you've learned to sew, candle make, quilt make, cake decorate, genealogy sleuth, write, etc? You do it with gusto and competently. I stop before I start because I know I can't be an "expert".....

You are humble. Yes, you are and no, you haven't always been.

You share freely and graciously your mistakes, mis-judgments, hurts, pain, embarrassments, social errors, mis-steps, etc. There is something "freeing" about it when you share your confessions so honestly. God bless this trait.

You are a wonderful sister. I love you so much and I am so blessed to have such a dear dear friend and confidant. You are important to me and I miss you ever so much. Happy birthday, Stacie"

And then, lo and behold, my sister Diane wrote:

"My favorite thing about you is how much fun you are and how easy you laugh. I was thinking about this today, and I've decided that we Callahan kids enjoy ourselves like no others. I mean literally; we enjoy OURSELVES. I enjoy me, you enjoy you, etc., etc. No one laughs harder at our funnies than we laugh at our own. That's the mental picture I got when I was thinking about you today. I could see you making a funny comment and then slapping your knee real hard and laughing boisterously! I laughed just thinking about it (because that's what we do; we laugh at ourselves).

You and I have had soooo many fun times laughing at ourselves and at each other. Do you remember the time we were at the motorcycle rally in Colorado and a guy walked off after talking us near-comatose? Before he was out of earshot, you turned to me and said, "He bores me."

I could go on and on, but you have already written about most of our funniest times, so mine would be redundant and not near as entertaining. You are a great writer. I always laugh out loud when I read your blog.

On a serious note, I appreciate how transparent you have become. You used to protect yourself at all costs, but you have become very vulnerable and "real." I truly appreciate that, but especially since I know how hard it must have been for you.

I remember vividly the day you were born. Do you remember how much I doted on you when you were a little girl? I know, I know, you remember what a witchy older sister I was, but maybe in the recesses of your mind, you can conjure up a memory of when I used to call you "To-Val." Strange nickname, I know, but it was my pet name for you.

I love you and wish you the very happiest of birthdays. Diane"

I couldn't have asked for more feely goodies in one day. But another one came from my aunt, Jill.

"I love you because you are funny. I love you because you are articulate. I love you because you are intelligent. I love you because you so obviously love me! I love you because you are strong.I love you because you are warm and supportive. I love you most of all because you are you! Jill"

Beautiful. I had all I needed for days and days of high spirits.

You know how I hate talking about myself. Ok, so that's a lie. But you know how it's so much cooler if someone else toots your horn rather than you tootin' you're own? Here's my rootin' tootin' niece Mindi tootin' me up:

"Valerie, I know that you cannot know what you mean to me. As a child I always felt a bond to you because I was often told that I was so much like you. Little did I know, that the adults in my life were referring mostly to negative traits that we had in common, namely stubbornness. As an adult, I still feel a close bond to you, and now it is because there are traits that I see in you that I admire and want to develop in myself. I admire you as a mother and a wife. I admire your commitment to your marriage, and your commitment to raising your children to be kind people. I admire your skills in the domestic life you lead, as well as the way you push yourself to try new things all the time, even if those new things lead to "butthole roses" in a cake decorating class. I admire your transparency. It is ever so humbling to admit our shortcomings. If you are anything like me, humility is not our strong point. I appreciate your open mind, and for proving that you CAN teach an old dog new tricks. I in no way think you are old or a dog, but I can't think of a better metaphor. Who would have thought that a little country girl from Arkansas, would grow into a tree-hugging, Wal-Mart boycotting Canadian. (All said in jest, of course.) I do admire you Valerie, and love you dearly. I hope your birthday is fabulous. *ching ching*

When the goodness was just too much to imagine anymore, my sweetheart added this to my day's blessings:

"I love you because you hung on. It has not been easy, but you kept getting up each morning and caring as you could, without going anywhere. I love you because you have learned through much pain to adjust to my weaknesses without kicking back. I love you because you keep trying new things, even when the last thing didn't work out like you planned - including things between us. I love you because you love our kids, and do your best to bring out their best, even after they have annoyed you into temporary isolation. And, I love you because you kept on laughing at my weird, silly, and sometimes asinine comments, and then went and cooked a meal or did the laundry or just prayed for all of us. I guess if you get right down to it, I love you because in spite of how life works out sometimes, you have been faithful to me, our kids, our life together, and our common Lord, in big and small ways, even when it was the hardest thing in the world for you to do. And I'm thankful to God for it. Will you be my Valentine, Valerie? Love, Gordon"

This has been a most glorious birthday. I don't think I've ever received so many kind words. I'm truly blessed.

randomness

Things I love about winter.

1) The snow illuminates the outdoors at night. I can see outside my window almost like a yard lamp is on. In the wee hours of the morning, I always notice how the light is reflected off the snow creating light for the middle-of-the-night bathroom visits .
2) I cook lots of soups, chilies, and homemade bread. They are easy, very hearty and so very soothing on a cold cold day.
3) Warm evening drinks
4) Christmas festivities
5) Reading on the sofa in the evening with a throw draped over me
6) Spending more time in the family room. In the winter I always spend more time in the cozy family room. I'm not drawn to it in the same way other times of the year.
7) My girls are Canadian indeed. My soul smiles as they build snow forts, ice skate, and whatever else they do outside. I'm a watch-from-the-window kind of mom.
8) I love the clean unpolluted untouched snow. Parks and yards (the ones without children and dogs) look so beautiful.
9) Spruce trees laden with snow
10) I sweat less. You did want to know that didn't you?
11) Cleaning windows is so easy. Soups cooking produces a condensation on the windows and I wipe it off with a towel, and presto, the window is clean. So so easy. No excuse for a dirty window. 
12) Lucy loves to play in the snow.
13) Sweat suits! I love sweat suits.
14) I've only been privileged to see the Northern Lights a few times, but it's always been on winter nights. A beautiful experience.