Badly

Mother hates me. She told me that I am "not even funny anymore", which in Mother language means that I am out of favor.
I called Mother this evening. This was approximately the second time I've called her since being married. (I even told her that I'd been listening to Rush Limbaugh....did that restore me? It did not. I only listen to Rush because Tim is a conservative radio junkie. Personally, I think that Politics are stupid. I should be president.)
So, I called Mother. My new daughter asked to speak to Mother as soon as I got on the phone, which made her the favorite instantly.

Does your mother have a favorite?

Mother always says that she never has a favorite, but she always does. Usually it's Dani, because she keeps having cute little babies.
Next week it'll be Andi because she is graduating from college. I am never her favorite anymore. Sometimes my husband gets to be her favorite, because he is handsome and retired, and he gives her that smile. She loves him then.
I was going to tell you something of substance about that phone conversation, but I forget what.

Can we talk about Tiger Woods? Seriously. Do you know how many confessions of infidelity I've heard on the radio, or TV, since his flagrant adultery has come to light? Is it really so common to betray one's spouse in such a way? You'd think so. I feel so bad for his wife.

Did you know it's really bad grammar to say "I feel badly"? That implies that you are somehow ineffective in your emotions, rather than having sad emotions. I feel "badly" that Mother hates me, which is to say that my emotions are not up to the task... I'm no good at feeling.
I feel "bad" when I'm not Mother's favorite, which would be more accurate.
Deep down, she will always love me best.

I'll always be Granny's favorite. And that's something, after all.

My flow of thought is non-existant. I feel bad about that.
Time for bed, I guess.
G'night

A moment to myself

Between this moment and the celebration of Christ's birth, I plan to host 5 birthday parties, celebrate one graduation from college, and throw a rather large Christmas Eve Dinner. My head is spinning. No one should be allowed to be born in December. It's very inconvenient.
Mostly, I love people born in this month. I'll bet there is some astrological nonsense about that.

I haven't had a lot of time to just think for a while. It's thinking that is so good for blogging. That, and amusing associates. When one knows amusing people, one has so very much material. I haven't had a lot of time to just think...that was really my point. I need more thinking time.

So much has changed in my world,and it's more than circumstances. My whole reality has changed. Every single person I talk to comments that they never talk to me anymore. It's true. I am always with my husband, or in the car with various children. Life is so sweet right now, and I know that I am blessed beyond measure.

If I had time to think, I would revel in silence. I would read. I would listen to music. I would sit, and just be.
And then, I am sure, I would write.

I thought I'd say "hello."
Hello.

Halloween

I am a little tardy in posting this, but it's Patsy's fault. She took the great photos and did her magic with them. Then, I had to steal them from her site!


I am too lazy to link. Go to her link in the sidebar for more of her pictures....

In which I speak of inelegant things

We have a dog who is very old, deaf, and vomits frequently. Given my squeamish nature, this can be somewhat inconvenient. For instance, the dog puked up a stunning Mount Everest of grossness the other day, and I left. I left a note for Tim saying something to the effect of, "Your dog threw up. I do not attend to such things. Good luck with that. And also, I love you." Which went over better than you might expect. We are, in fact, still happily married.
My Daddy came to visit today. Approximately three seconds after his arrival, the dog...Tim's Dog...ralphed at his feet. Unfortunately, Tim was not home at the time, and I could not leave Daddy, the dog, and the vomit. Therefore, I did that which was my most surprising act of selflessness for the day: I cleaned it up.
It won't happen again.
Dogs suck.

Aren't you glad I chose this event to blog about?

A Smokey Ghost

In the wee, small hours of the morning, I pried one eye open to a shrieking alarm. Tim sprang from the bed, to the alarm clock, and back again, before my second eyelid was raised.
Only, it wasn't the alarm clock.
It was 1:30 am, and I was foggy and confused. If the alarm was going off, then the clock should say 6:30.
It took Tim some serious, and very patient, explaining before I realized that the alarm was the sound of the smoke detector....again....and that the fact that it had ceased when Tim turned the alarm clock off was pure coincidence. He grudgingly got up and went to turn the alarm clock back on.
After the smoke alarm thing the first night, Tim had changed all the batteries. They should be quietly protecting us from errant smoke, not interupting a perfectly good nights rest. I have no idea why these things are tormenting us.
Any suggestions?
If they scream at us again tonight, I am going to be very grumpy indeed.

Identity crisis

I totally need to reinvent this blog. What in the world shall I write about? I'm not very funny these days. I'm no longer single. I'm all smarmy-in-love, and working hard at being a mom and wife. How boring is that?
The details of my day are not worth the writing.
Except
Something happened last night.
At 3 am the smoke detector went screaming. I bolted out of a deep sleep, paused to take inventory of my modesty status, and dove into the house at large. Aaron was sreaming for daddy, and barely audible over the alarm. I went to his room. Tim stumbled into conciousness and was searching for a fire before his mind even registered that he was awake.
There was no fire.
We ended up with a febrile child in our bed for the rest of the night. His fever hardly seemed adequate to have sounded an alarm. It was adequate to prevent further sleep, however.
Back when I was single, I'd have to encounter those smoke detectors from time to time. Mostly, they would chirp when the batteries would die. I would swat them with a broom, until they dropped to my feet in silence. My old house needs new smoke detectors, for this reason.
Tonight I am dizzy on my feet. Sleep is a welcome prospect. All four children seem like Energizer bunnies. Why don't they get tired?

I am going to bed.
What should I blog about next?

Blurred lines

I wore an Ivory twinset to church, with jeans. They are long jeans, that accommodate heels very nicely. When I wear my brown boots, I am only a couple inches shorter than my husband. It changes my perspective, being taller. I can look him in the eye.

When the lights were dimmed at church, as we were singing, Tim and I sat shoulder to shoulder, as we always do. Shoulders- pressed- together feels like holding hands, for all I can feel his thoughts thru the connection.
He was wearing ivory, too. A sweater.

I chuckled in a momentary thought, that the colors and the fabrics were so similar that I could not tell where I ended and he began.
So often, in an epiphany like that, the thought congeals so quickly. I realized that the blurred line between us is exactly the point. It's where we're headed. As a new couple, we are, perhaps, in an accelerated growth phase. Maybe we won't always change so rapidly. But the direction in which we're moving is toward Oneness. There should be a day, down the road, when I can't really see where he begins, and I end.

Every time I see some new truth about marriage, I wonder how it applies to the analogy of Christ and the church. Because I'm really holy that way.

What if my relationship with my Lord was such that it was growing toward a unified oneness? What if I got to a point with Him that I could not be at all sure when I ended and He began? That would pretty stunning. I'd probably be so amazing that I could board a chariot of flame, and ride straight through the gates of Glory. But, that kind of Oneness is also the goal, isn't it? That's where I want to be headed.

Marriage, once again, serves as a picture of the design God has for His Romance with me. The Bride of Christ. Make it so, Lord.