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I Don’t Like Waste

On Tuesday, I got out of subbing a little earlier thanks to last period planning.  I guess that’s the advantage of subbing…no planning required (to a point).

I didn’t know what to do with myself!  An entire two hours of unplanned free time!  I headed to the grocery store.  My family has been barely subsiding on odds and ends.

I don’t know of you’re like me, but when I get back from a big shopping trip, I find myself clearing out the old stuff from the fridge.  What a chore, but necessary.  I’ve often found offender of various odors lurking deep within its shadows.  Yesterday proved no different.

As I took the garbage outside, I was amazed by the waste.

And a view from the top…

I don’t like throwing things out…especially food that should have been eaten.  I haven’t discovered a sure-fire way of avoiding it though.  If I don’t buy as much, we don’t have enough, but if I buy it, nobody eats it all.

And the plastic containers…a thorn in my side.  My city does not have a recycling program.  There is a charity, which I plan on calling soon, that will come and pick up some of the items; however, recycling is not mandatory here.  When we moved here from south Florida, I was shocked.  It rubbed me the wrong way to throw paper and plastics in the garbage.

Perhaps the only way to avoid this is at the store where I purchase my items.

Sigh…

A small weight on my mind.  How to be a better steward of this beautiful world that God created.

Christmas Memory #9

Not all Christmas memories are good.  After all, life doesn’t stop just because it’s the holidays.

In April 2001, I lost my dad suddenly.  I was still grieving heavily when the Christmas season rolled around.  I’m not sure why.  I guess you can’t put a time line on grief.

My dad always managed to select very unusual, yet thoughtful gifts.  One year, Soccer Chick received a doll that you could transform into Little Red Riding Hood, the Wolf, and the Grandmother…all by simply pulling the skirt over the doll’s head in a couple of different ways.  Another year, he gave her a soccer ball signed by one of the European World Cup teams.  He had gotten it from one of the World Cup games that year.  Very cool.

So, when December arrived, I wasn’t ready for it.  Dad’s widow had notified us that she would be sending us some of his things.  She had planned on sending the package to my sister’s house since I would be in town for the holidays.  However, the mail got delayed, and the package didn’t arrive before I had to leave.

I was devastated.  I had eagerly waited each day for the box, and it had not arrived.  I longed to hold something that had been my dad’s.  I was also upset because my sister would get to go through everything first.  Selfish, I know, but that’s how I felt.

So, the dull ache of pain, much like a toothache, accompanied the holiday festivities that year.  It seems like a waste of energy now, but I felt like I was drowning in the midst of it.  Fortunately, the Christmases that followed have been better.

Guy Friend Deserves a Beanie

This past weekend, while we were at Soccer Chick’s tournament, Guy Friend (Soccer Chick’s love interest) agreed to watch my fur babies. He’s been over to the house many times since the summer, so everyone knows everyone.

Molly is a skittish dog. It does not take much to scare her, and she frequently barks at sudden movements or noises.

However, Molly was clearly happy to see Guy Friend when he entered the house:

Molly Greets Guy Friend

Molly Greets Guy Friend

All went well Friday night.  Guy Friend had picked up dinner on the way to my house after soccer practice, and he sat down and watched a movie while loving on the dogs.

The next day was a different story.  One must remember that Guy Friend is a teenaged boy.  He likes to sleep, and that’s just what he did, not arriving to the house until around 9:30 or 10:00.  As he walked into the house, he was greeted by a pool of pee.  The poor dogs couldn’t hold it any longer.  Molly sat in a corner looking very sad.

Poor Guy Friend.  He called me to find out how to clean up the mess.  He didn’t sound happy.  I wouldn’t have been either.

After cleaning, he fed the dogs, applied Molly’s ointment to a cut, and let the dogs out.  The plan was for the dogs to stay out until we got home from the tournament.

The dogs had other plans.

Soccer Chick’s team won its second game, putting them in the Championship Game, held later that afternoon.  Between games, the girls went shopping.  During this time, my phone rang.  I looked at the caller ID.

My retired neighbors next door.

Great.

I haltingly answered the phone.

“AuburnChick, are you home right now?”

“No, I’m two hours away and will not be back until tonight.”

In the background, I could hear Aubie barking.

Great.

“AuburnChick, the dogs are digging again, and I can see Pele’s face.”

Great.

I assured her that I would have someone go over and let the dogs in.

First, I called a friend who lives down the street.  She wasn’t home.

Great.

The only person I knew to call was Guy Friend.  The poor guy did not sound thrilled (I found out later that he had been out with friends), but he was respectful and agreed to go back to the house and let the bad dogs in.

Once the dogs were in, we decided to leave things be until I could get home.

However, Guy Friend is a real sweetie.  Right before Soccer Chick’s final game, he texted me…asking if I wanted him to check on the dogs.  I assured him that he should go only if he wanted to (but that the dogs would surely be happy to see someone’s face and get to go outside and pee).  He agreed and went back.

Nice guy, this one.  The only thing I have against him is that he likes my daughter.  And she likes him.  Really, really likes him.  Wish I could delay their feelings just a few years.

Regardless, Guy Friend won’t let us pay him for the wonderful care he provided to my pups.

So, I decided that I’m going to make him another beanie.  Yes, I said “another” because I already made him one, which he didn’t like.  I can’t blame him.  It wasn’t my best work.  However, I’ve perfected the hat a bit, successfully making Rockin Rooster a beanie that others have been asking for.  It will be similar to this, except that I’m going to make it primarily green with one wider orange stripe:

Nothing But Ribbing Beanie

Nothing But Ribbing Beanie

I think it’s the least I can do.

Christmas Memory #8

I’m sure we all have certain presents that stick out in our minds…those favorites that we received on Christmas morning.

One of my most memorable was the Christmas before I turned 16.

I don’t remember much of opening presents that year.  I’m sure I got an assortment.  My very last present, though, was a small box.

Inside of the box was a key ring with a single key on it.

It took me a few seconds to understand what the key meant.  I blame the blonde hair.  I’ve always been a bit daffy.

My sister, however, understood a little quicker than I did, and she jumped up and ran out of the room.  I ran after her, a second behind her in my understanding.  She went out one door, and I went out another…very big house…lots of doors.

I chose wisest.  My door was unlocked.  Her’s was not.  My parents had planned for the locked door to be my means of escape.  I fooled them.

I reached the garage first.

Lo and behold, there was a car inside!  Now, I’ve tried really hard to remember what kind of car it was.  Racked my brain half the night to remember, and for the life of me, the name just won’t come.  Oh wait…I JUST remembered as I was typing this.  It was a Chevy Cavalier.  At least I’m pretty sure that’s what it was.  I tried googling for a picture, but I can’t find one that looks similar to what I had.  I did find this commercial though:

Yeah, I know I wasn’t 16 yet, but living in a small town allowed kids to drive way earlier than was legal to do so.  My sister, three years younger, and I jumped right in the car and drove to the next town over to visit a few friends of mine.  One of my friends jumped in the car, and we went to another friend’s house.  She jumped in the car, and we all went for a little ride.  Then we went back home.

I would totally ground Soccer Chick if she ever did that.  Thank goodness my mom didn’t.

What a great Christmas, though!

Life Through a Camera Lens

Lately I have become quite the photography queen.

I don’t know if you remember when I purchased a new camera this past summer.  It is the Nikon Coolpix P80, and it’s a great camera for the novice photographer.  I talked about my new camera in this post.

With both of my children playing high school soccer, I’m giving the camera quite the workout, averaging over 1,000 pictures per game (if it doesn’t rain).  I use the Sports mode, which allows me to take at least 16 frames every time I hold down the shutter button.

Now, I have watched A LOT of soccer during Soccer Chick’s nearly ten years of playing.  I know how the game is supposed to be played.  However, watching the game through the camera lens is giving me a totally different perspective.  There’s a lot more that happens on the field than appears to the untrained casual observer.

After I transfer the pictures to my computer, I meticulously go through them, shot by shot, to weed out the blurry or random pictures…in the search for THE picture.  The one that captures the moment to a “T.”  Looking at the pictures is almost like watching the game in slow motion…an advantage the spectators do not have because there is no instant replay in soccer.

I am truly in awe at the athleticism of the players.  The height that some of the ladies get on their jumps as they go up for headers reminds me of Michael Jordan.  Folks, most of these girls are not over 5’5″.  My own Chicky stands at a mere 5’2″ and she sometimes gets to the tops of other players shoulders.

Wow!

And the faces the kids make as they prepare themselves to make contact with the ball…scrunching up their faces…squinting their eyes.  They are far braver than I am.  I would be turning tail and running away.

Some of my favorite pictures are the ones of the kids making the extra stretch to tap the ball out from under the feet of other players.  Graceful motion is what it is.

Here’s what I’m talking about.  No, this is not Soccer Chick, but it is a picture from her game.

How can you not love this game and admire those who play it!

Sometimes I wonder what I would see if I took a camera lens to my daily life.  I doubt I would like many of the pictures I would see…the little nuances that I think I’m slipping by everyone.

Hmm…food for thought…

Christmas Memory #7

This morning, our church service was geared toward children.  The children led our worship songs.  Most of them were dressed in their Christmas finery…all except for one little girl, who was wearing a Florida Gators football jersey (Florida beat Alabama in the SEC Championship yesterday).  Priorities, people, priorities.

As I listened and watched, I was taken back to the time when my own children were toddlers.  Sitting through those Christmas programs was a little different.  Those were my babies singing.

I remember when Soccer Chick was three years old.  We had recently moved to Miami, and she had been attending a new preschool.  She wore a cute little red dress that I had adorned with iron-on transfers edged with fabric paint.  It was some of my finest work.

I went back to her room to check on her before the program began, and I couldn’t find her.  Her teacher came up to me and explained that Soccer Chick was in the bathroom.  Apparently she had performance anxiety.  This is still something she suffers from…before many soccer games (only I don’t go and check on her now…she doesn’t wear tights and need help pulling them up anymore).

After taking care of business, she was ready.

How cute she was…pig tails swinging as she sang her little heart out, beside the little boy who picked his nose through the entire program.

It’s hard to think of Christmas without children.  I mean, that’s what Christmas is all about.  The birth of the most important Baby ever to grace this earth.

A Touching Moment on Survivor

I think I’ve told you before that I love “reality” shows such as Survivor, The Amazing Race, and Big Brother.  I enjoy watching people.

No, I’m not a voyeur.  And no, I’m not nosy.  I find it interesting to watch how people react in various situations.  It’s also interesting to see what people will do for money.  Watching these shows allows my brain to rest.  It’s a time out from my crazy life.

A few months ago, I got rid of my DVR to lower my cable bill.  Thank goodness for the internet!  I can watch most of my favorite shows on the computer!  Boy am I glad I purchased the 17″ MacBook Pro!  The screen is the perfect size for watching videos.
The major networks house their own shows.  To watch Survivor, go to this site.

Sometimes other sites offer different viewing options, such as fewer commercials or automatic restart of shows after the commercials.  Granted, the commercials take up much less time than traditional television viewing, but it’s annoying to have to click the play button on the computer.  Hulu.com is one of my favorite sites to watch shows from.  It’s where I watch Prison Break.

Ultimately, what I do is simply google something like “Watch Heroes online,” and off I go.

Ok…so back to the point of this post.

This evening, I decided to catch up on Survivor since I had missed last week’s episode because of my children’s soccer games.  This was a particularly touching show…the “loved ones” hour that is done each season.

Sugar, one of the few contestants left, got to see her sister.  Sugar’s purpose for being on the show, other than winning the money, is to try to get some closure over the death of her father.  Her sister had brought some of his ashes, and they spread them over Africa’s landscape together.

My eyes filled with tears because I could totally relate.  I know my dad has been gone for several years now, but he was also cremated, and I could see myself doing something like that for him.  He loved to travel and would have been thrilled to experience such an adventure.

My heart hurt for Sugar.  I remember trying to recover from the initial shock of my dad’s passing.  I understand what she’s going through, and I appreciated the brief glimpse into her heart, despite it being broadcast over national television.  When it comes down to it, TV or no TV, people are people.  We all share common hurts, joys, and worries.

Christmas Memory #6

Sorry to be so late in sharing today.  Soccer Chick had a tournament to play in.  Her team won!!!  What a terrific feeling!

Ok, so on the way home, I enjoyed looking at some of the lights that people have been putting up in recent days.

I remember when my mom put up her lights each year.  She didn’t go crazy, like people do nowadays.  Of course, there wasn’t any such thing as icicle lights back then.  You had to make due the best way you could.

One thing she did was put electric candles in the windows.

They were orange.

Why did she pick orange?  I have no idea.  Maybe she thought they looked like flames?

We had a very large, southern, plantation-style house with lots of windows.  It was our job to turn them on and off each night.  With such an old house, the heating was horrible, and we just about froze every evening.

We took pictures of the house, from the outside, once.  It looked like it was on fire.  Still, Mom continued to put those stupid orange lights in the windows.  I think she might have even switched to red one year.

Weird, I know, but that was is my mom.

The “L” Word

Soccer Chick used the “L” word yesterday.  And she didn’t use it when talking to me, her sweet mother, who was driving her to Carrabas to eat a delicious dinner after the first game of her tournament.

Nope…

Soccer Chick was on the phone with Guy Friend.

Guy Friend is the dude who’s been coming over a lot since the summer.  Guy Friend is the one she texts constantly.

Guy Friend is a soccer player…pretty good one at that.  And he’s a senior.  And they share a locker at school.

But he’s only a “Friend” because I am a mean mom and won’t let her date.  I am very conservative, and it’s a decision the Mr. and I made long ago.

However, young hearts cannot be stilled.

A sampling of their text messages:

“You’re so cute.”

“No, you’re cuter.”

“Well, you’re smart.”

“No, you’re smarter.”

Blech.

It’s almost too much to take.  Of course, I am 38 years old.  I’m sure if I’d had texting when I was a teen, I would have said the same thing to old Curly-Head, my boyfriend of two years.

So, last night, Soccer Chick was recapping the game with Guy Friend and about to end the conversation when she said, “I love you.”

Even though she said it quietly, my old ears heard her loud and clear, along with the alarm bells that went afterward.

She quickly realized where she was and that Mama was in the front seat.

Sigh…

My little girl is growing up…

Christmas Memory #5

As I sat in the living room last night, gazing at my lit Christmas tree, I was struck by a long-ago memory.

I remember many years ago when my mom decided she wanted a new tree.  She pulled out the JC Penny catalog and ordered the one she liked best…complete with all of the ornaments displayed in the ad.

The night she decorated, my sister and I were not allowed to help, so we watched from the stairs.  She arranged everything exactly like the picture from the catalog, which she had torn out and saved.  First, she put on the lights, which were red.  This was quite different from anything I’d ever seen.

Next, she added the ornaments.  There were gold bells with red ribbons on the tops, some sort of cranberry or cherry looking ornaments and red apples.  The tinsel was the finishing touch…each piece perfectly hung.   I’m pretty sure I went to bed long before she had finished.  That’s how particular she was.

I found a picture, not of that tree, but of another, to give you an idea of what one with red lights looks like:

Why does this memory stand out for me?  I think it is because I remember the feeling of coziness that enveloped me in a warm embrace as I sat on that bottom step.  I also remember my mom quietly working…taking pleasure in something she had long waited for.  I remember feeling a little left out, but even at my young age, I understood that this was her moment, and I respected that.

I think we all have moments during the holidays that belong to just us, whether it is sipping hot chocolate on a cold morning after the kids have gone to school (like I just did this morning), or shopping at the mall, lost in our own little worlds as we meticulously select gifts for our loved ones.