THURSDAY THOUGHTS: Locked Out

I had coffee with friend and fellow blogger, Wendy, last Saturday morning.  Here is a link to her blog http://partofmystory.blogspot.com.  I mentioned since I started blogging again, after a rather lengthy absence, the few posts I’ve done have been serious and I missed the funny me.  Cuz I am a funny one.  And when I say funny I don’t mean funny Ha Ha, but funny in that I do and say stupid things.  Like this episode a while back with my equally funny sister, Chrystal.

 

During my basement dweller days Chrystal and I would occasionally go grocery shopping together.  (She lived upstairs in the main part of the house and I, and my two cats, lived in the cute little basement.  Cute, if you could overlook the spiders.)  We came home from one such shopping trip to find I was locked out of my apartment. 

“No problem, just go through my house, through the garage and laundry room and use the connecting door,” Chrystal suggested.

“Ok.”  As I said that I was trying to remember if I had left that door unlocked or not.  I usually locked it even though she was the only one with access, because I’m a fraidy cat.  What if the bad guys come through her house, rob and kill her, and then decide to check out the basement dweller!

Sure enough, it was locked.

“I’ll get a screw driver and hammer and take it off the hinges,” said one of us.  I think it was me because I remember being the one to actually UNSUCCESSFULLY take it off the hinges. 

“Well since that didn’t work just use the hammer to break the lock.”  I distinctly remember it being Chrystal who came up with that idea.

After about 20 minutes of the two of us taking turns trying to break the stupid lock, which of course wouldn’t break because it was doing its job, we gave up.

“This door is not the sturdiest of doors.  What if we use the hammer to chop a hole right next to the door knob, and then reach in and unlock the door.”  Again, I credit Chrystal with suggesting another brilliant plan.

So chop we did.  And we chopped some more.  We got a lot of aggression out on that stinking door!

 
“Wow, these doors are sturdier than they appear,” I said after another 10 minutes. 

Another few minutes of chopping and we had a hole big enough to reach through only to find out that, in our earlier attempt to break it, we had damaged the lock beyond use.  So locked it stayed.

We stood there for a few minutes staring at all the wood chips on the floor with nothing to show for it.  It was then that Chrystal decided to give it a shot with the hammer and screw driver to take the door off the hinges. 

It came right off. 

What?!?!?  What had I done wrong?  I have taken doors off hinges many times to move large furniture in or out or to paint or something.  What?!?!?

We discussed if for a bit and decided it was because we were tired.  And maybe also needed some therapy time to hit, punch, yell, and destroy an inanimate object.  Poor little door.

Since we rented the house from our church we thought the most Christian thing to do would be to hide it and get someone else to come put in a new door before the elder in charge found out.  Which is what we did.  Unfortunately the elder in charge was mowing our backyard when the chopped up door passed by.  He laughed, shook his head and said he didn’t dare ask what happened.

So that is how my single sister and I solved the problem of being locked out.  Would a husband have gotten it off the hinges on the first try?  Or would he have not forgotten his key in the first place.  Either way I think our plan worked out just fine.  I got in didn’t I?

Question:  Ever been locked out?  Have better luck in getting in than we did? 

TUESDAY TUNES: Help Me Find It

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsjZ94K7UQs

This was my theme song for last summer…

I became unemployed and homeless all in one weekend in the spring of 2013.  So in June I found myself on a plane headed for Tennessee to spend the summer with some good friends working as their nanny.  I also needed to clear my head and figure out what was next.

 As I drove around beautiful Franklin, Tennessee with its green cotton-ball trees, Sidewalk Prophets’ song “Help Me Find It” always seemed to be on the radio every time I needed it to be. 

It was my story...

“I don’t know where to go from here, it all used to seem so clear.”

”If there’s a road I should walk, help me find it.”

 And the comfort of…

“For every step, I’ve never been alone.”

 

“Even when it hurts You’ll have Your way, even in the valley I will say, with every breath You’ve never let me go.”

 If I was alone in the car I would sing it at the top of my lungs! But one evening the song came on while I was driving the girls to dance, or to eat, or to a friend’s house or to something.  I said, “Oh, I LOVE this song.  It’s my theme song.”  They asked me why, so I started singing along with the words like I was telling them my story.  When it got to the words “You’ve never failed before” I had to turn my head and fight back tears, because He never has.

 Right before that phrase are the words, “I will wait for You.”  That’s the hard part!!  But I’m learning to “Be Still and Know (remember) that He is God.”  These are not new concepts for me.  It’s just when you find yourself in a difficult situation you learn them all over again.

 Ten months later I’m still a bit in limbo.  But, He’s never failed before!  That’s all I need to know.  So even though I don’t know where to go from here, I will wait for Him.  And He won’t fail me this time either!

Rose Bowl Monday

I start out watching today’s Rose Bowl game with my dad at his house. I’ve been watching football games with him for as long as I can remember. Wisconsin and Oregon both score on their first possession; gonna be a good game. Midway through the second quarter Daddy starts feeling badly so he heads back to bed and I head back home.

I’m one-half block from my house and can’t figure out why the car in front of me is stopped. Has there been an accident? Is someone crossing the street? No, it’s a tree. A big, beautiful Oregon Fir tree sprawled across the busy four lane street. Surrounded by this sight, I feel like I’m in the woods and a wee bit confused. Once I realize what has actually happened I detour around the block and pull into my driveway where I find my sister, Chrystal, on the porch cleaning her windows. I tell her about the tree and she goes into full on Diane Sawyer mode for the duration of the “tree event.”

During my journey home both teams seemed to have scored again. Go Ducks!

The tree has fallen on power lines which leaves some folks without the ability to watch the game. I decide to watch the rest of the game next door with a bunch of dudes.

At some point I look out the window and see Chrystal on the street chatting it up with police officers and neighbors. She texts and calls in periodically with breaking news about the status of the tree. Soon after halftime is over she reports that the fire department has arrived and chain saws have begun clearing the area of the tree. Both teams score again.

Good news, at approximately 5:14 p.m., sometime during the third quarter, traffic on the busy street resumes and life for Chrystal goes back to normal.

Towards the end, the Quarterbacks trade interceptions and the Ducks pull ahead for the rest of the game. Yea Ducks!

So now the Oregon Ducks have won their first Rose Bowl since 1917, the very year my dad was born, who, by the way, was kept up to date on the game by my mother. Maybe that’s where Chrystal gets it.

Question:  Did you watch the game?

Christmas Gifts

I think I ate a year’s supply of chocolate over the last two weeks. Have I mentioned I love chocolate? I must have because I received lots of it as gifts. I ate every last bit as well as all the fudge and other luscious nummy-ness at parties and on the counters at school and church. I will have to work doubly hard in the new year to work it all off (she says laughingly as another Hershey kiss is plopped in her mouth).

Chocolate is always a good gift for me no matter what the occasion. But one of my favorite gifts this Christmas was from the hugs of former students as they visited church over the holidays. Some of these kids I only see once or twice a year, so as they arrive home from college with diamond rings on their left hand ring finger I see how quickly time is passing by.

It was also a great gift to watch some of my current Junior High students as they sang in the adult church choir. As one 7th grade girl I’ve known since Kindergarten sang out her solo among all the grownups I got all misty eyed and couldn’t stop smiling.

Spending Christmas morning with my 17 year-old niece was another great gift. Watching her open her stocking, I pictured her as a little girl again with curly locks instead of the hair she works so hard now to straighten.

But, I have to say my most favorite of all, first place winning Christmas gift this year was the fact that my church partnered with a Presbyterian Church for a Christmas program mid-month and shared Christmas morning service with a Baptist congregation. Yowsa! Imagine that, different churches with differing theologies getting together to celebrate Jesus. Whee!!  Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” Amen and Hallelujah!

Question: What were some of your favorite gifts this Christmas?

Happy Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving. Or to be more exact, today was Thanksgiving. I was in charge of all things potato: mashed and sweet. And when I say sweet, I mean sweet. Every ingredient I put in nullified any nutritional value in the sweet potato. I was going to go the healthy route but my niece requested my casserole with the mashed up sweet potatoes mixed with sugar, brown sugar, butter and other fattening things with a mixture of brown sugar and walnut yumminess on top.

I began the day with brunch at my place with a few friends. Stuffed Baked French Toast topped the menu. It was a fun way to begin the day. When I got home from dinner with my family this evening I felt like I had either been cooking, eating or washing dishes all day. But that’s okay. I enjoyed every minute.

My oldest sister Robin, the family historian, likes to make cards and scrapbook. She greeted everyone with a nice Thanksgiving card and poem. My other sister, Chrystal, you know the one who left me stranded with pancreatitis :), likes to play games. She had everyone write down a few things they were thankful for and then we had to guess who wrote them.

Most of the thankful notes mentioned family and friends. One said chocolate. And no, that one wasn’t me. I said I was thankful for my family, friends, that I had a job and a place to live.

This has been a very difficult past six months for me, but I am not complaining. God is good and I am grateful. Very grateful. Forever grateful.

Hope you had a wonderfully thankful Thanksgiving.

Question: How did you spend your Thanksgiving?

A Sister in Need is a Sister in Deed

This past August 8, a Monday evening, at approximately 7 pm, aliens invaded my body, lit a campfire and shot each other with darts causing me the worst pain and nausea I have ever experienced.  Having grown up with a sensitive stomach I’ve spent many an hour vomiting after consuming rich or high fat foods.  Since I am not Jerry from Seinfeld or Ted from How I Met Your Mother I have no proud record of how long it has been since the last time I vomited.  It has happened all too often during my lifetime.

But as I was puking up my toes for the 3^rd time that evening, I said to myself, “Something is worse this time, but how handy it is that my sister lives just upstairs.  I shall give her a call and have her drive me to the emergency room.”

So I called.  And called.  And called again.  Her car was in the driveway so I assumed she was home.  I went to her front door and rang the bell.  And rang.  And rang again.  And cried.  And through up some more.

Then I remembered she was attending the Bible Study next door.  So I went, shaking and sweating with puke bowl in hand, and knocked and opened the door.  “I need Chrystal,” I sobbed.  “She’s not here tonight.  What’s wro…?”  But before their final words were spoken I was headed back to her front door for one last try.  Ring, ring, ring.  Still nothing.

Sheryl a nurse friend of mine lives nearby and I gave her a call.  She arrived in no time and I was on my way to the hospital.  Yea Sheryl.

They took me right in and gave me some morphine.  Hmm…Strange sensation intravenous drugs.  You can actually feel it ooze through your body with an, “I can see why people do this recreationally,” thought or two as it does.  Alas, this first dose helped only slightly, but enough for me to lie still.  I had to wait before they could give me more.  After a couple of hours, I suggested Sheryl call another friend, Linda, to tag team with her.  Linda didn’t have to work the next day and I wanted Sheryl to get some rest.  Linda arrived and Sheryl went home.  But not before reminding the nursing staff I needed my fluids bag replaced and that it was time for my next round of morphine.  It’s great to have a nurse for a friend.

Being in a pain meds haze I can’t remember exactly when Chrystal texted but I do remember the content.  It went something like this:  “Hey, what ya doin’.  I’m in the backyard on the trampoline.  It’s a beautiful night.  Come out and enjoy it with me.”  I handed the phone to Sheryl, or was it Linda at that point, don’t know.  Whoever it was called her and told her where I was. 

Turns out Chrystal had been upstairs in her bedroom the entire time, with the air conditioner on causing her not to hear the phone or doorbell. 

I will have to share the ins and outs of the reasons why they didn’t take my gallbladder out that night and why I had to wait two months for the surgery in Thursday’s post.  But fast forward from August 8 to October 14…

Around midnight the Friday night before my scheduled surgery on the following Tuesday, the aliens were back and I wound up on the bathroom floor again.  This time it was much worse and I felt pain in the same place as well as just to the left and in my back.  So, once again, I called my sister upstairs; no answer.  She was obviously sleeping with her phone off.  I had texted her a few hours earlier telling her I wasn’t feeling well and received no answer then as well.  So, wasting no time, I called my friend Dawn, waking her up, and cried, “Make them TAKE IT OUT!!!”  She couldn’t quite tell what I was saying because I was crying so badly, but she assumed what was happening and made it to my house. 

Waiting for Dawn to arrive, I christened my sister’s front yard. 

I shall share the details of my health issues and hospital stay in Thursdays post as well. Fast forward to my first day back at work two weeks later…

“And thank you, Lord,” prayed my principal Mr. Whittlesey, “that Dana is blessed to have her sister living just upstairs to help her out in times like these.”  Seriously?  Of course, after the Amen I had to share the real story.

Chrystal really is a great sister and feels guilty she didn’t know I needed help, but that doesn’t make it any less fun to tease her about this.

Question:  Are you a “Jerry” or “Ted” and have a non-vomit record going?  Or are you more like me?

A Hot Single Turns 40

I am back at my blogging post after a brief hospital stay and recovery.  Thanks for being patient and mentioning that you missed me!

Me and Amy at her 40th Birthday
Camping Trip.

Amid fits of laughter my intensely beautiful and surprisingly funny friend waves her arm across the air like a banner and announces, “Aaaaaamy’s Fuuun and Faaaabulous Fortieth Frieeeends and Faaamily Festiiiivitiiies!!!!!”   Whee!  It became our mantra for the past few weeks looking forward to the camping trip celebrating Amy saying goodbye to her thirties. 

I say “intensely beautiful” because the men in Italy could not get enough of her.  She was even kissed by our very first waiter in Rome.  I was watching him throughout our meal and suspected he felt a little hubba hubba for our Amy.  My suspicions were confirmed when he wanted to personally escort her to the restroom, which upon her return is when he planted a juicy one on her cheek.  She was also hit on by a leather store owner as well as eyed up and down by any male with a heartbeat as she passed by. 

And she’s “surprisingly funny” because of the stereotype that beautiful women aren’t funny.  Well she is.  Funny in a sneaky, hee hee, sort of way.

Amy is a kindred spirit to me.  We both made it to 40 by “never finding a man who could stand to be as deliriously happy as we would make him.”  We are the special kind of SingleMinded people that know, though being married would be a wonderful thing, we don’t have to wait for a walk down the aisle for life to happen.

I watched her with the children of her friends attending the, “Aaaaaamy’s Fuuun and Faaaabulous Fortieth Frieeeends and Faaamily Festiiiivitiiies,” and knew she was making an impact on young lives.  I saw the respect and admiration of the husbands in attendance knowing she had built in handymen, heavy-thing-lifters and advice-givers when needed.

I also know she has a lover of her soul that fills the gap.

Being singleminded, when done well, can be Faaabulous when you have great Frieeeends and Faaamily for Fuuun Festiiivitiiiies!

Question:  Do you have an Amy in your life?

A Lesson from Ruth

Sometimes I like to scandalize my mother.  Usually it’s with something innocent like this:  “I’d like the fish please, just for the halibut.”  She rolls her eyes and wonders where she went wrong.  Oh please, if that’s all she has to worry about with me!

My sister Chrystal and I joined her at the pool of her retirement mobile home park today.  We pretended we were like Cameron Diaz from the movie In Her Shoes, only, you know, older and fatter.  I read her a facebook post from Mila Polevia our Worship minister at church.  Thought some of you would enjoy it as well.  Hope you’re not scandalized…

ATTENTION SINGLE LADIES!

Quick Bible Lesson:

In the Bible, Ruth patiently waited for her mate Boaz. While waiting on your Boaz, don't settle for ANY of his relatives:

Brokeaz

Poaz

Lyinaz

Cheatinaz

Dumbaz

Cheapaz

Lazyaz

Or especially his 3rd cousin, Beatinyoaz.

Please wait on your Boaz & make sure he respect Yoaz!

Question:  Do you have an azes to add to the list?

A Touch Act to Follow

Daddy loves Christmas wind-up toys.

I am so blessed to still have my 93 year-old dad in my life.  Maybe I never married because I couldn’t find someone as wonderful as Bill Brown.  He is a tough act to follow.  Watching my father hold hands with mother after 50 plus years of marriage warms my heart and makes me smile. 

My parents making out during a card game last Christmas.
(Get a room!)

He is the best dad around! 

Happy Father’s Day.

Question:  What are some of your favorite memories of your father?

Single Moms

Since this blog is about observations on life through the eyes of a Single Christian Woman, ME, this week's observations are centered on single moms because that is what I am this week.  I am staying with two girls, ages 9 and 11, for a week while their parents are out of town.  I'm only on day 3 and am stressed and pooped! 

I want to give a big shout out to all the single moms out there and ask, "How do you do it?"

Well, that is all this part-time, fill-in single mom has time for right now.  I shall share the week's highlights with you next week.

The End

The Mother of all Holidays

My mom and her 3 daughters.  I'm the cute one on her lap.

 I almost made it through today without someone wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day.  But alas, the well wishing came anyway.  FYI, I’m not a mother.

You don’t need to wish a single woman with no children a Happy Mother’s Day.  It’s just not necessary.  It would be like wishing me a Happy Hanukkah.  Again, not necessary.

People tell me that since I was a nanny, children’s minister and teacher, I’ve played an important role in the lives of hundreds of children.  I know that to be true, but it still doesn’t make me a mother.  And that’s okay; really it is.

It would have been wonderful to get married and have a family, but my life went down a different road.  Thankfully, I never heard the ticking of the proverbial biological clock.  I take that as God’s confirmation that he had other plans for me. 

So next year, please don’t feel pressured to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day.  You can just smile and say, “Hey, you are looking fabulous today.”  And then I can say, “That’s because I don’t have any children.”  J

 

Question:  How did you spend Mother’s Day?

A Noise by Any Other Name

I was playing Kings in the Corner with my parents the other night.  It’s a fun little tradition we have and that night it was just the three of us.  There is no skill whatsoever involved in this card game.  That evening I won 4 hands, Mom 2 and Daddy one.  It’s on those nights I say the game may involve some skill.  We were having our usual enjoyable time when, after a few hands, I started making a rather obnoxious noise. 

Now those of you who know me well can attest to the fact I have a habit of doing such things unconsciously, and quite innocently I might add.  Had my sisters or any of my friends been there they would have commented on it the first time I uttered the strange string of sounds.  And they most definitely would have put a stop to it had I gone on for too long.

This particular noise was a new one for me and a difficult one to describe.  Normally I would just burst into song because of something someone said.  Or I’d make a brief sound effect mimicking some racket in the room.  But that night it was a strange, throaty chant I kept making over and over again.  I have no earthly idea why, so don’t bother asking.

After I few minutes, I finally became aware of what I was doing.  I looked up at my parents and they were busily planning their Kings in the Corner strategy.  Surely they were hearing this.  Daddy is 93 and needs a hearing aid but for heaven’s sake even he should be able to hear my strange gurgling.  Mother didn’t even glance up.  So of course that challenged me to make the sound even louder and more obnoxiously.  Still there was no reaction.

Finally, when I could take it no longer, I asked why I wasn’t irritating them to the point of kicking me out.  They had no idea what I was talking about.  I then proceeded to make the noise for them.  They began laughing, and my sweet mother said, “Oh honey, we started tuning you out years ago. We don’t even notice things like that anymore.”

Parents are a strange and special breed.  It takes a certain unconditional love, that’s for sure.  Since I never married and had children of my own I often wonder what kind of parent I would have been.  Hopefully I would have been the kind that let my daughter win at silly card games and loved her in spite of any annoying quirks.

Question:  Any habits you have that others may or may not tolerate?

Salizar Street

I think I am landing on a Monday and Thursday posting schedule.  Now that I am actually up and running in the world of blogging I’m having fun.  It’s much better than the, “Just do it already,” hanging over my head.

I have been writing music since I was in Junior High.  I feel comfortable with that process.  I’ve written musical scripts for my students for years and have had great success with directing these productions in school and church.  But now that I am attempting to write my thoughts in memoir form I feel very intimidated.  So I’m “schooling” myself.  I’ve checked out books on the craft of writing from the fabulous Multnomah County Library, registered for writing workshops, devoured my 3 issues of Writer’s Digest Magazine and searched blogs and websites till my progressive lenses have glazed over.

I am finding one of the books I have checked out, OLD FRIEND FROM FAR AWAY by Natalie Goldberg, very helpful.  It has hundreds of writing exercises to free your memories deeply buried under layers of life, denial, or maybe just dementia.

One of her assignments was to write for 10 minutes using the phrase, “I Remember.”  Here is what I remember…

I remember dusk on Salizar Street in San Diego.  The ticking sound of Daddy’s red Valiant as it rounded the corner and entered the driveway announced his arrival home.  I remember being so mad at him when he chopped off the two lowest branches on our favorite front yard trees making it difficult to jump up and climb.  Tree climbing was my whole life back then. 

I remember finding a nickel on the ground and hopping on my pink Schwinn banana seat bike and travelling on my secret mission to the 7-11, left turn/right turn/left/right/left/right/left, to buy a piece of gum from the gumball machine out front.  I just knew all the big kids there thought I was neato because I rode my bike all by myself and had money for a treat.  After my expensive purchase I immediately rode back home.  Once there I couldn’t even enjoy the chewing process for fear I would be found out and get in trouble.

I remember the Hippie rock band rehearsing in their garage down the street.  I wondered if they were smoking that marijuana as they did their version of Three Dog Night.  I can still see the mom coming out of the front door and shooing us nosey neighborhood kids away.  I thought it was weird that those Hippies still lived with their mom.

I loved playing in the parking lot of the church at the end of the block singing the lyrics of Paul Revere and the Raiders at the top of my lungs.  I remember the sound of my roller skates against the pavement.

For some reason our family inherited a big 4x4 animal cage and kids from surrounding streets found out about it and came to play.  We would pack as many kids as we could inside and then roll them around the yard.  It was the most fun ever.  I remember how those same strangers kept interrupting our Girl Scout meeting the next day to see if we could come out and play again.  I thought we were so cool because of that stupid cage. 

         

Salizar Street; a great place to spend 7 years of my life, or was it 6.  Who knows, we were always moving.  But that street has more memoires than 10 minutes can hold. 

So there you go.  Give it a try.  Spend 10 minutes reminiscing with an “I remember” story. Let me know what you remember.HoHoHo