The great plumpkin!

The great plumpkin. 

Just what my new nickname is going to be if I don't stop eating the leftover Halloween candy! 

Those were the days. 
The mid 70's. 
Find the largest, orange pumpkin. 
Haul it home, 350 miles, from California to Oregon. 
In the back of our station wagon. 

Those masks.
I remember so vividly feeling like I was suffocating in those awful masks.
Slicing my tongue while sticking it through the mouth hole and not being able to see through the tiny eye holes.
So much for safety.
Boy have they come a long way!

Our perfect Jack-O-Lantern, not very creative but perfect none the less!

So this is what becomes of me with no kiddos to take on the candy collection night.
Reliving old, old Halloween memories.

Comfort Food - Reese's Chewy Chocolate Cookies

So many good things just in the name!

Reese's. 
Chocolate. 
Cookies. 

Who doesn't love chocolate?  
Ok, don't answer that. I have a brother-in-law that doesn't like chocolate. 
We considered not letting him into the family on that one downfall alone. 
After a quick poll of all involved though, we decided my sister may still like him, that un-american chocolate not liker. I was going to say hater but that sounds harsh...so does un-american...ok, he likes apple pie so I guess he can keep his american title but the chocolate not liker title is sticking around. 

Back to the super gooey, impossible to eat just one chocolate cookies. 
These are my husband's all time favorite cookies ever. Until he tells me of his new favorite. He has many favorites. This however is the grand daddy of all cookies in his opinion. I do have to agree, they are scrumptious. 

When I whip up a batch of these, they are gone in no time. 
That is if the dough is not gone first. 
Before I know it I have a swarm of spoons scooping a whole buncha dough up.

The small amount of dough that is left gets cooked and in theory would cool on a rack. 
Then sit beautifully on display in an equally beautiful cake stand. 

Well, that is in theory anyway. 

I just don't have the heart to embarrass the measly few cookies that are not chosen to be eaten in the first few minuets of emerging from the toasty warm oven to sit on a cake stand all alone, reminding me of that awful time in gym class being one of the last kids picked for a team. 

I can't do it. 

So, this time I quickly piled them up and they went for a photo shoot before anyone was the wiser. 

Okay, the secret's out. He swoops into the kitchen, very stealth like, grabs a plate full of warm cookies, pours a huge glass of ice cold milk and disappears. 

And, to add to the extra specialness of this cookie. Check out the typewriter typed, hole punched with hole reinforcers from a sweet cookbook created by my mother-in-law as a wedding present.

Happy, happy, happy. 

Que the music, Pharrell Williams I'm so happy!

Because I'm happy
Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
Because I'm happy 
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
Because I'm happy 
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you 
Because I'm happy 
Clap along if you feel like that's what you wanna do

 

Wishes for the Juice Box generation

A weed or a wish
A bone or a wish bone
Well wishes or a wishing well
A shooting star or wish upon a star
Best wishes or wishing you the best
Birthday wishes or wishing it was your birthday

My wish for the juice box generation:

That you see a wish from a weed
That you trade a wish bone for a back bone
That your well overflows
That you land among the stars
That you stop wishing and start doing
That your birthdays are many...consider the alternative

I wish you lots of quiet snowflakes that fall in the night awaiting the squeals of joy. 
That you have a warm fire to thaw frigged fingers from the fluffy, white, glorious snow.
I wish you handmade valentines that require tape, glue, glitter and candy. 
That the literal desk top mailbox will be overflowing with love from friends.
I wish for barefoot grass to spring up under your feet, to run and fall and laugh as you guess the cloud animals since you are on the ground now anyways. 
That the clouds create stories to retell over a picnic on that same grass. 

I wish for you the summer sprinkles that fall down on your head from a sprinkler as you run through and slip on the wet grass. 
That you have no need for summer clothes, since you wear a swimsuit all day. 
I wish for you roasted smarshmallows squished between chocolate and crackers. 
That you have as many friends as marshmallows in the bag.
I wish you the sounds and smells of a crackling campfire.
That you crawl into a sleeping bag in a tent and make shadow figures while giggling about the stories.

I wish for you the feeling of accomplishment from spending way too many hours building a card house just to have your dog knock it down in excitement to see you. 
That your pets become your precious friends when human ones are lacking.
I wish for you the feel of warm sand between your toes and the sound of waves and seagulls begging for a snack. 
That you hear the ocean calling your name from a seashell.

I wish for you the smell of puppy breath while the new little bundle of fur licks your nose.
That you find responsibility in care taking of your pets.
I wish for you the slimy feel of pumpkin goo to slip through your fingers as you decorate that perfect orange jack-o-lantern. 
That leaves are plenty and dry and deep.
I wish you take time to stare at the stars on a cold winter night.
That you have a friend staring at the same stars far away, seeing the same beauty you see. 

I wish for you the magic of Christmas morning. Jumping on mom and dad in excitement to wake up way too early.
That you go to bed Christmas night in the same jammies you woke up in. There is something soothing about staying in your jammies all day long. This is what I'm told anyway.
I wish for you a bestie or two, to stay up all night with giggling and sneaking cookies in bed.
That life is enjoyed beyond the wonderful world of electronics.

100 yards

With my husband sleeping in the seat next to me and two of our grown children in the back I happily took my place behind the wheel. It was my turn to drive the long stretch of silence. Silence and vast blackness. My headlights reflecting off the little lane dividers giving me about 100 yards of sight ahead. Wishing I could see the entire road but accepting it was impossible without streetlights .

Driving my husbands big manly truck I feel like I am floating between the door and the center console. The seat is huge. My left arm doesn't reach the door to rest my elbow on and my right arm doesn't reach the console without putting me at a wonky angle to drive. I have to sit upright, nice and tall because it also doesn't move up and down only forward and back. The truck fit's him just fine.

Good thing it is his truck.

Staying alert, sitting up tall with plenty of extra space and trying not to feel annoyed that the season we are approaching is very similar to the long stretch of highway I am now navigating. Not the vast blackness however but the 100 yards of sight.

Leaving the soon to be new hometown of our recent high school graduate I can almost hear God whispering in the darkness...do you trust me?

Earlier this summer...

Feeling anxious about the housing that was still not secured, leaving our 18 year old in an unfamiliar city and visiting the surrounding area of the school was just about enough to send me into a panic attack of epic proportions. 

However, seeing the city in the daylight the following day, meeting with his instructors and getting a private tour of the facility helped to ease my anxieties. 
You'd think that since this is the third time doing this I would have it all figured out right, yeah me too. 

Nope not how it happened.

Setting the cruise control for 65 and fighting the sleepy feeling my eyes are experiencing I notice the dreaded road construction signs ahead. 
Sure that they will ease us into the highway under repair, I zoom along eager to get to my bed just waiting for me. 
Warm and snugly and ready to wrap me up for much needed sleep.

Coming around a bend in the road I am met face to face with flashing lights. 
The earlier helpful lane reflectors are now going one direction but the very large cones are forcing me a different direction. 
Bright lights, huge semi trucks with blinding headlights and unfamiliar highway were cause for some quick, jerky startling driving. 
Not a great way for my sleeping passengers to be jolted awake.

Taking the next exit at the request of my now awake husband I happily took my place in the passenger seat very eager and happy to surrender the wheel. Trying to relax in the comfort of a new driver I hear the familiar question, do you trust me?

100 yards. 

That's it. 

No cruise control in life for me, just total dependence on God.

Shivering in the summer heat

In one moment we are relishing in the memories of all the Disney parks had to offer and the next, we are on the phone with 911 praying that my sweet little sugarpie is still alive.

Life comes at you fast.

Saying goodbye to the summer of 2008 and feeling tired from a busy full week and long flight the kids took a quick dip in the pool while I filled the fridge. 
Reluctantly accepting the reality that I now need to cook and clean again.
The restaurants and maid service are a quickly fading memory.

Vacations are amazing!

Menu planning and laundry is in full swing as I am met with a wet, ill child. 
Telling me she feels like throwing up. Thinking she is exhausted like me, I encourage her to lie on the couch. 
Finding me again she more firmly insists she is feeling off, kinda weird. 

At those very words her eyes roll in the back of her head, her knees buckle and her head flops forward like a newborn. 

Vacation is officially over. 

I stay totally calm.
Yeah, in reality I ramp up to full hysteria screaming.

CALL 911!!!
GO GET THE NEIGHBORS!!!
CALL DAD!!!

911 is trying to calm me, our neighbor shows up with a broom in hand and George cannot be reached.

Katelin, now conscious is calming me down. I'm sure my screaming jolted her back to consciousness. She says she feels fine now and will be ok...

In the commotion of it all, Tim, our neighbor is wondering where the raccoon is as I'm also wondering why he brought a broom over. 

Raccoon? What? 

Clearly we had a lack in communication. 
He told how my son came over yelling, come quick there's a raccoon in the house and my mom needs you! 
The broom was the quickest tool chosen for the raccoon extraction.

There was no raccoon.

With impeccable timing my husband comes home to see the firetruck, ambulance and crash car all crowded in our driveway. 
With the excitement now over for the most part, they decide she is going to be fine but did say she likely was dehydrated and to get her to our doctor on Monday. 

As quickly as she was fine she repeats the scene from above, this time so dad can freak out along with me.

Wait, he doesn't freak out. 

At the hospital we ask her what she remembered from the ordeal.
Not feeling well, everything getting black and then waking up on the cold tile.

Shivering in the summer heat.

Oh my, life really does come at you fast. 
What a good reminder to treasure every moment, not to let life pass by with full schedules, menu planning and laundry.

 Note to self, improve the communication during an emergency with a 9 year old engrossed in video games.
Who knows what other ideas he may conjure up if we have a next time, and yes we will have a next time.

Raccoon's have been known to procreate in our chimney!

I can tell by the way you are sighing, I am a bit high maintenance

Last night while lying in bed pecking away on my trusty little mini pad the battery low warning light comes on. 
Being a bit lazier than usual, I decide to keep typing, hoping I can finish my post before I totally run out of battery. 

I didn't make it. 
Without a final warning, the screen goes blank...dead...no more typing.

Still not wanting to leave the warmth of my bed I decide to access my drive from my smaller but ever faithful smart phone.
This works for a short while but it also starts in with the warnings. Sheesh! 

I may take a lesson here, when my own batteries are just about exhausted I will give a couple of warnings and then just shut down!

Enter my better half of 28 years. 
I can tell how much he is looking forward to joining me in bed.  

However, my frustrated voice tells him that my electronics have let me down. 
Sighing, he searches for an extension cord and plugs in the many cords of gadgets at my bedside. 

I gather that by the way he is sighing he feels I am a bit high maintenance. 
As I  repeat that phrase to him he breaks out in laughter, recognizing that I hit the nail on the head!

We enjoy a give and take relationship of being high maintenance in our marriage.
He is a very picky eater, taste and texture are high on his list of priorities for food. 

He has for a small variety of foods that he enjoys, but they are only fully enjoyed if prepared correctly. 
Taco meat is best if finely  chopped.
Steak must be fully cooked, no pink, hockey puck style. 
Chocolate dessert or berry pie cannot be consumed without ice cold milk. 

We have very different relationships with food, I love it all. 
Enough said.
Well, no liver or anything weird. 

Taco meat, any size works for me.
Steak is best with flavor, hockey pucks are not too flavorful. 
Dessert? Yum! With or without milk. Espresso is my preference though. 

High maintenance?  For sure!

However, for me, navigating an airport other than our own,  is only easily navigated if chopped up into small pieces much like his taco meat.
My once soft, easily molded character is occasionally hardened by life's struggles, transforming me into the hockey puck from too much heat.

We have a real marriage. 
We are all a little high maintenance, especially with our spouses.

Isn't this how we are instructed to be? 
Ok not high maintenance per say, but submitting to the needs and desires of our spouse?

Submission, respect, loving each other. 
All examples from the word of God on being high maintenance.

He puts up with my technology challenged frustrations and I prepare food for him however he likes it.

High maintenance, low maintenance....but maintenance is the key word here. 

Sometimes our scales get a bit unbalanced...one needing more maintenance for a season than the other.
However always seeking to maintain our marriage in a manner pleasing to the creator of the oldest of all covenants....marriage.

Cucumbers that become sweet

My mama's famous Sweet Pickles.
Almost anything passed down from my mama is amazing. 
Almost is the key word here. I do recall being served a few questionable dinners though...

Liver, ewww... that is an organ.
Pickled pigs feet. Again ewww. Feet? Really? 
Gizzard, another organ. 

Ok, so most everything was amazing. I don't recall being forced to eat them, but she likely made them tasty too. 

She was by far and away the best cook, hands down.

These are the most delicious pickles you will ever eat. 

Really. 

Enough said.

My nephew has been known to eat an entire jar in one sitting. 
They are that good! 

Very time consuming, but very worth it.

 This is a hot steamy job, resulting in a shiny face!

The blonde leading the blind

I'm blonde.
I've been blonde my entire life.
I epitomize being blonde, although I must admit I am probably more of an "old grey mare" than a "blondes have more fun" kind of girl anymore.

However, I love blonde jokes, even though I usually don't get them. Pretending gets me pretty far until I'm ratted out by someone who want's me to explain the joke to them. 
Those non blonde people in my life find great humor in this process. Sheesh!

I have discovered something more challenging than being blonde though. 

Being blind. 

I have a dear friend that has recently become nearly totally blind from a brain injury.
Helping her navigate on a walk made me keenly aware how quickly our lives can change in a moment. 

And, how being blind with a blonde friend was quite the leap of faith on her part!

While walking along she kept pointing out different things in her neighborhood, like that we needed to turn at the next big tree or that we needed to take the next left by the white fence. Confused, I asked her how she knew where those things were without seeing them anymore. 

Hearing her explain how formerly being a sighted person she knew that the big dark shadow in the sky was a tree and that the long shadow along the street was a fence. Since this was her neighborhood, she was very familiar with where things were located.

She had walked that path many times, so many times in fact she could do it with her eyes closed.

To be that familiar with something takes consistent repetition.

My goal is to create repetition with a great depth of love, attention and detail. 
So those closest to me will recognize the real thing, even with their eyes closed as it slips through their fingers.  


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

The Voice of God

Kissing my two high school aged kids goodbye and giving them last minute instructions to watch out for each other, they were off with their youth group for a fun filled week at church camp. 

Having our oldest living in California and our other two gone at camp we had a full week of no kids. 
This was a rare treat, we not only have our own kids, we often have their many friends at our home too. 
I truly love the laughter and excitement and even the noise and expense that comes from hosting gaming parties or pool parties to all nighters watching videos.

We considered going on vacation while the kids were gone. 
We would only need to hire the neighbor boy to keep the dog, cat and turtles alive. 
Keep the pool chemicals accurate so it doesn't resemble a swamp, not that we've ever experienced that before. 
Fetch the mail and take out the garbage and so on.

I am a vacation lover so this was a bit of a sacrifice to stay home. 

However, my husband is a vacation liker. 

In his wisdom he suggests that we use our very limited time wisely and take on a project to do something slightly more productive and much more needed.

We agreed to the ever popular staycation to paint the house.

We purchased the needed supplies, all much more than I would ever think to paint a regular old house. 

In one weekend were able to accomplish the first floor. 

Amazing how fast you can get jobs  done without interruptions, this staycation thing is not so bad after all. 

Wondering how long the wait times were at Disneyland I tried tricking myself into thinking I would be miserable just standing there in the sun, chatting with the people around us while chomping on a Churro. 

Really, Disneyland without the kids? 

Unthinkable!!!

And even though we were technically on a staycation I needed to head into work for a couple of days so back to our schedule of getting up to an alarm clock.  

Waking up the next morning I felt with a strong desire to connect with our son. The mama bear in me was sensing my duty to protect for some reason.

Knowing he was at camp and unreachable I decided to just pray for him. 
Still feeling uneasy I asked my husband if he was feeling liked he missed him.
No he replied, are you? 
Yeah, kinda. I don't know, just uneasy is all. 
We together prayed for our son, for protection and inclusiveness, for safety and fun. 

Still uneasy I arrive at church where I work as an admin.
Making my way up to my cubical I stop by a friends desk. 
Her son is at camp too. 
I ask her how her week is going and if she is missing him. 
Well, not really, she said, are you?

Actually I am.
I tell her of how much I am missing him and how I awoke with an intense desire of protection. 
She pointed out how odd that seemed since my kids were often gone all summer serving somewhere or at one camp or another and that this was unusual for me.
I agreed, went into my cubicle and tried to shake this fear that was now overtaking me.

I pray the promises from God.
Philippians 4:6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 

Also this one; 1 Peter 5:7 Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 

I pray and pray and pray. 

And then I cry. 

I attempt to work, opening my email, sorting through papers on my desk but not feeling very productive. 
A couple of hours pass. The ringing of my phone jolts me back to reality.

Val, there is an urgent call for you on line one.

Fully expecting this call my trembling fingers pick up the phone and press line one. 
Unsure who would be on the other end and of what I would hear, I nearly vomited, right there in my cube.

Not very mama bear like I know.

Hi Val, this is Julie. We are here at the hospital with your son, he will be having a few stitches. 
I am calming down a little just hearing Julie.
Stitches, I am sure he could sew himself up by how many times he has been stitched and glued back together over the years.
Okay I reply with a nervous laughter, stitches aren't so bad. 
How many I ask, she didn't know.
Let me have the surgeon walk you through it.

The calm I was starting to feel was quickly replaced by the intense feeling to vomit again after hearing the word surgeon.

Hello Mrs. Stuart, this is doctor so and so. 
Looks like your son had a boating accident.
We will need to do several layers of stitches and then staples.
The wound is about 5 inches long and 2 inches deep. 
We are not sure, but think it is close to the bone.
We are prepping him now, waiting for the IV to be placed and the pain meds to start.
We will place a drain to decrease infection as well.

Can I talk to him?
That is not possible right now, how about his sister, can you talk to her? 
My heart smiled, of course I will talk to her, so happy they remembered my instructions to watch out for each other.

She was unclear what happened exactly but from what she could piece together, the boys were on the boat dock just horsing around. 
There was suggestion that he was knocked under the water and perhaps snagged his arm on the propeller or something sticking out off the dock. 

Hearing his voice in the background she holds the phone up to his ear. 
He tells me he will be ok and begs to stay at camp.

After 60 stitches and 15 staples he is ready to head back to camp...

The surgeon calls again to recap how things went and asks if I saw the pictures I was sent. Yes I replied.
You are very calm for the severity of this injury. 
She went on to share that if it had been anywhere else on his body we would be having a very different discussion. 

If this would have been his face he likely wouldn't have survived the trauma. 
His neck, for sure not. 
His abdomen, likely severe damage to major organs. His back, you get the picture. 
This was the only place that he could have had this severe of an injury and survive with a great prognosis.

I understand fully what could have happened and how God prepared me all morning for this call.

We did let him stay at camp with strict instructions to follow doctors orders.

Once things calmed down, I recounted the events of the day.
What time did this happen? 
Exactly when I was In my cube, praying, almost without ceasing, crying without reason, or so I thought.

God was by his side in the lake and by my side in my cube.

That’s a wrap

Growing up during the 70's and 80's I watched my mom swing between the fat giggler machine to liquid diets. 

From Jane Fonda's workout to Sweatin' to the Oldies with Richard Simmons.   

Returning home from school one rainy afternoon I was looking forward to curling up with a good book. But instead, I was greeted with something that would now border on child abuse! 

Honey, I have a new fat melting trick I want to try on you, my dear sweet guinea pig! Whaaaaat, no, please I want to read my new book. 
Oh, come on, it will be fun she said. 
Why don't you try it on yourself  I asked.
It's a two person job and I need to try it out on someone else first before I try it on myself.  If it works on you, then you can try it on me! (I should have clued into the key word "if").

I was getting intrigued on how fat melts away. This sounded about as successful as the fat giggler, that never worked either.

I skeptically asked what was involved. She was sensing my weakness to provide my body as her science experiment. I had a hard time turning her down, she was always so much fun and we always ended up in great laughter from one thing or another. 

Deciding that if I didn't indulged her she may try this new potion on the family dog so I followed her instructions to meet her in the bathroom, disrobe down to my skivies and "prepare to be melted" she announced! This sounded dramatic. Okay I replied, a little skeptical, well, a lot skeptical. I obliged and did as told. 

Now the magic cream.

She proceeded to smear this tan colored, cinnamon smelling cold cream on all my exposed skin. Cold cream, it was. Now shivering and waiting for the next step she produces household Saran Wrap.

Ok, this is getting a little strange now. She then giggles and literally wraps my entire body much like a mummy in the Saran Wrap. 

Now I'm feeling claustrophobic but enjoying that I'm getting warmer.

You see, the magic happens when you sweat off the fat from the heat being produced and trapped in the wrap, she sounded so educated. I do think she got the recipe wrong, for the warmth I was enjoying in the first 5 minutes is now rapidly getting warmer. 

Ummmm mom, lets be done with this, my voice and body movements rapidly escalating.

Well you know what happens to Saran Wrap when you stick it to itself . The Saran that is now slimy and slippery with the cold cream concoction and the end now impossible to find. I'm hopping all around and yelling;

Get it off, it's burning, get it off!!!!! 

Trying her best to help me she finally turns the shower on cold and lifts me like a sausage into the shower. Remember, I am still wrapped and unable to bend my knees, arms or waist. 

She runs to the kitchen to get scissors to cut me free, however when she returns she is laughing so incredibly hard she doesn't have the dexterity to maneuver the scissors. Getting the accurate image here, she wasn't trying to burn me or drown me or dismember me but the entire thing went drastically wrong.

Finally she gathered herself enough to snip through the many layers of plastic to free my burning flesh. The intense smell of cinnamon was so strong we were sure our lungs and eyes were just as red as my now barbecued skin.

Laughter, in this case, really was the best medicine. Every time we remembered this event we laughed so hard we didn't even make a sound! 
She never got the exact recipe either so I never got to give her the same treatment.

Hmmmm....fun she said, remember?