Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Genetics

I miss my Grandma. When I was little, she would let me steal Certs breath mints from her purse and she always had a kleenex tucked in the elastic in her sleeve. All of us grand kids would snicker every time she pulled one of the wadded tissues out.

Not long ago, I caught my mom with a kleenex in her hand and as she began to wad it up, I gasped, "You better not be getting ready to tuck that in your sleeve!" She laughed and assured me that she was only putting it in her pocket. I chided her that the pocket is only the first step. Next stop....sleeve. In a similar scene, while she was visiting, my son asked for a tissue. Mom whipped one out from her pocket and I began to tease her for becoming her mother. Relentlessly.

No matter how much you love your family, you don't want to become your mother. I don't know why that is. I admire my Mom and she has many great qualities. Yet, when my brother chides that I'm becoming her, I go into battle mode. (of course, he is turning into a little "mini-me" of my Dad, so there's not much room for him to talk).


My office is in the basement and this morning, before I came down to my computer, I remembered that I hadn't taken my Allegra last night. My allergies were killing me! As I grabbed a couple kleenexes and stuck them into the pocket of my sweatshirt. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around to see if anyone was looking. Luckily for me, in my own house at 5:20am, everyone is in bed and there is nobody around but me.

I'm doomed.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

My Green Thumb

Okay, I admit it. I'm not that great at growing things. Just today, The Pastor came in and scooped up one of my drooping plants with a sarcastic comment about being the one who had been called by God to save our houseplants.

Usually when I attempt to grow things like flowers, I get results like you see in the picture above.

This spring, in the name of simplicity, I planted flowers in large pots, rather than make flower beds. I figure the less dirt, the less chance that weeds can grow and the less chance of weeds growing, the better the chance that flowers might actually grow. So you can imagine my delight when my flowers took off and bloomed like crazy. (well, most of them...)

I had flowers that looked like this....

And this... My pots runneth over. It was a beautiful sight and every day I would come home from work and while I watered my fantastic foliage, I would commend myself on what a great plant-grower I'm becoming. The petunias were my ultimate source of pride. I actually have 4 large pots and the one full of purple petunias was by and far the most beautiful. The plants are spilling over the sides of the pot and there were so many flowers it looked like I own stock in Miracle Grow. Notice I said the plants are, but the flowers were.





The Lord has a funny way of keeping my pride in check. You've heard me tell of attending meetings wearing remnants of my lunch or of admiring my own hairdo and drooling on myself, but this one is on a whole new level. One night after Bible study I stood on the porch saying good-bye to a friend. She noticed and commented on the petunias and I beamed with pride.
The next morning when I left for work, I gasped with surprise and then instant rage. A pack of wild llamas (yes, I said wild llamas) came through the yard and ate every flower...only off my huge petunia plant. And now, it looks like this...





So not fair.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Annie (Cari) Get Your Gun!

You never know what's going to happen when you're a North Idaho Wife. A couple weeks ago, one of my friends told me that her husband announced that they were going to pick out her birthday gift. Judging by the direction they were heading in the car, my friend began to get excited, just knowing they were on their way to Home Depot to pick out a Dyson Vacuum cleaner that she'd been wanting. As they drove, she was trying to decide which model she'd choose. Would it be the yellow one or the blue one? Apparently, it would be neither... she soon found herself at the gun show where her husband was taking her to pick out a new rifle.

In trying to console her, I shared my own story of receiving a .22 for Mother's Day. I had dropped some serious hints that I wanted a blender. When The Pastor presented me with a long, skinny box, I knew I was in trouble (or he was). To his credit though, he did also get me the blender. The day I got that .22, I didn't know just how fun it would be.

I surprised myself the other day while packing for our annual women's retreat. I was making a mental checklist as I put items in my bag. Socks...check, toothbrush....check, Bible....check. Ooh, I interrupted my own thought pattern. I can't forget my gun!

I laughed out loud at my own statement and the thought of anyone else hearing it. Only in North Idaho do you take your gun to a women's retreat. Actually, at the camp where we stay, they have a small rifle range with the little metal animals that fall over when you shoot them. (I'm sure there's an official name for those things, but I don't know what it is). Anyway, over the past few years, the women have had a ball shooting.

I'm sure if the men could see us they would cringe, but we all know the rules for safety and every now and then, we knock some animals over. We even got this year's speaker, a self-proclaimed city girl, in on the action. So for all you gals out there...when you're packing for your next retreat, give careful consideration as to whether or not you'll need your gun.


Sunday, September 07, 2008

Not New Forever

The Pastor often tells the story of a friend who bought a shiny new pickup truck. As is others watched, said friend took a large sledge hammer, walked to the back fender of the truck, and in one powerful swing put a large dent in the new truck. Then he said, "There, I'm glad that's over...now I don't have to worry about it anymore."

Let's just say, I don't have that same philosophy. It's my goal to keep all my new stuff as new looking as possible. I want to protect and preserve. I like things shiny, intact, and most importantly...working.

In my last post, I showed some pictures of our new travel trailer on it's maiden voyage. This trailer is a bit longer than our last one, so I've been extremely nervous about dragging the thing around for fear of smashing into something with it. (Of course, this does not reflect at all, my confidence in The Pastor to handle the trailer...I'm just an inherently nervous person) Much to my pleasure, my skilled husband was able to manuever the trailer around with no problems. We came back home, backed the trailer into the driveway and had nothing to report except a weekend of fun.

Once the trailer was safely set in place, we all got to work on our respective unpacking jobs. When we were done unloading, I went into the house and started the laundry. From the house, I heard our riding lawn-mower (which we also recently bought) fire up. I laundered, The Pastor mowed. After awhile, I looked out the window and and saw our truck parked in a strange spot. Worried that the pastor might be loading or lifting something he shouldn't, I went out into the yard. The truck had a tow-chain hooked to the lawn mower. Hmm, strange, I thought.

Right then, The Pastor came walking around the corner. He looked a little shaken. Just as I asked him what was going on, I noticed the dent in the trailer...then the one in the lawn mower.

Apparently, I should have worried less about the maiden voyage of the trailer and more about its safety while parked in the driveway. Somehow, The Pastor lost control of the riding mower and it took off down the hill (with him on it)...where it smashed into the side of the new trailer.

I know things can't stay "new" forever...but I was hoping for longer than two weeks.

Monday, September 01, 2008

Maiden Voyage




This weekend we took our new travel trailer on its first outing.
Here's a few shots of the fun. Enjoy!

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