I Think I Lost My Checkbook...

I know, right, who uses checkbooks anymore, anyway?!? But when you have a husband that works for the government (or contracted to the government...security clearance only allows me to know this much...), you kind of get on the whole "all information must be protected" kick.

So, on Thursday, I wrote a check for Ava's volleyball trophy, and that's the last thing I remember about the checkbook...I don't want to go so far as to say it was stolen; it's more like I set it down so someone else could potentially borrow it...just sayin'

Really, this year, I have been sued by a credit card company for debt from my twenties, had my debit card used to "almost" by plane tickets in the UK, and now I have misplaced "due to my own absentmindedness" [this is what I have to list on my now-has-to-be-closed-checking-account] my checkbook.

It's a good thing my husband has a job; without him, I would never have any money to spend! Sheesh!

M.S. #22 - How to Set a Table

Dude! Next week is Thanksgiving, and I have a bajillion Martha Stewart's to complete before 2010...alright, people, someone better tell me who is driving this train at warp-speed towards Procrastination Junction! For reals, right?!?
So, setting the table is a time honored tradition in parts of my husband’s family that is reserved mainly for the youngest child. Who better to handle the Tupperware cups and mismatched flatware than a four year-old? And isn’t it great when you have to grab your napkin (paper) off the plate – not next to the plate but on the plate like a decoration? I’m working on it…slowly and without any quick movements.

Now in my family, my father had a very Southern Nazi approach to meal time. We arrived at the table with our hair brushed, sat in our assigned, yes – assigned, spot, placed our napkin in our lap along with our left hand (this one really sucked for dinners when my left-handed cousin came over), and ate from one food group to the next. My father was in the Navy and this seemed to be the only trait that lingered after his discharge. I don’t actually remember if we set the table or if we “lined up for chow in the mess hall, sir”.

My grandparents, on the other hand, made setting the table an art form. They had morning china and dinner/supper china. I think I was six years old before I realized that I was the only one in the neighborhood that ate supper. The morning china was the china given to them by my grandmother’s parents on the day of their wedding. On their first anniversary, my grandfather bucked the traditional paper gift and bought my grandmother a new china set complete with silver flatware and hostess pieces. I remember my grandmother setting the breakfast table right before bedtime so they would wake up to their beautiful wedding china. I always thought that my grandfather was an impatient man who didn’t want to be bothered by the table setting process every morning, but years after my grandmother died he would still set the breakfast table (for two) every evening before bed. I asked him about this when he was in the hospital days before his own death, and he said that my grandmother set the table in the evening so they could spend every moment in the morning together before he went to work. He also never wanted to forget what it was like to have breakfast every – they rarely missed a breakfast in their 30 years together – morning with my grandmother, so he always set her a place in case she wanted to visit.

It is amazing how much you can miss someone just by writing about them. Tonight, I am going to unpack their china, I am not going to worry about the possibility of something getting cracked or broken, and I am going to introduce my daughter to something from her great grandparents. I think I will set them a place at the table in case they’d like to linger for a little visit…just to sit a spell…

(image of my favorite everyday dishes: Macy's)

Smart (err, not so): Otherwise Known as the Time I Should've Just Kept it to Myself

Let me (re-)introduce myself – I am the author-extraordinaire of this uber-neglected blog. Hi, yeah, it’s me, the guilty party (so there, hub of mine, I do know how to take the blame for my ridiculousness---pbbfflliitt! [that’s the onomatopoeia sound of sticking one’s tongue out and blowing…and because I am very exacting in my nerdiness, I googled a spelling list of onomatopoeia…can’t help it, I am always ready to inform!!!]).

As I was saying, I need to remind y’all of my complete inability to think things through before I speak; but, never fear, there is always a seventh grader around to make me feel like a complete dolt! And just so I don’t run the risk of embarrassing myself privately, I tweeted it all…

(click the picture to enlarge)

You know what! you can stop laughing any time now, buddy!

lylas

Twenty-four years ago, I was two weeks into my eighth grade year at a Christian school in Riverside, CA. Twenty-four years ago, I met a seventh-grade girl that would forever change my life.

Sixteen years ago, that seventh-grade girl got married and gave birth to her first daughter, Em. Sixteen years ago, I was a single, college girl with nothing but time…but no time for that seventh grade married-with-new-baby girl. Sixteen years ago, I acted more like a brat than a friend.

Twelve years ago (this Saturday), I met my husband; eleven years ago (this Saturday), I married him. Ten and a half years ago, I gave birth to my one and only daughter, Ava. Nine years ago, I called that seventh grade girl to tell her that I was sorry for behaving so immaturely. Nine years ago, we were Sis and Sissy again.

Eight years ago, we stopped talking for reasons neither one of us can remember…I think that seventh grade girl felt like she was left behind when I became a teacher; I think I needed that seventh grade girl to let me find my way as a wife, mother, and teacher…titles that were amazingly easy for her to adapt to…and then time passed again…

Three years ago, I happened to get a “Happy Mother’s Day” email from that seventh grade girl. I immediately emailed her because she forever was a part of my life, and I wanted her to know that I had moved to a new state…I needed her to know that there was only five hours between us and not five silent years…five years in which she had married her Kirt and had given birth to her second daughter and second son. Two weeks and five hours later, she was standing on my front porch with three of her children for a June visit to AZ…and all was right in the world…

Three years ago, my life was busy with PTO, an ever-changing administration at school, and the stresses of keeping up with it all. Three years ago, it was all I could do to keep up without falling into the drama, and she was five hours away…

Over the last couple of years, those five hours have become worlds between us. Two months ago, I found out that her grandma had died in December…her grandma was just super-awesome. Two weeks ago, that seventh grade girl’s husband posted a random status update on Facebook about becoming a grandpa soon. Two days ago, her first daughter gave birth to her first daughter…

…and if it wasn’t for that post then I wouldn’t have been able to tell that seventh grade girl that I was right twenty-four years ago when I said that someday we would be old (not so) and gray (not yet) and we’d still be friends. That seventh grade girl keeps paving the way --- first as a mother and now as a grandma --- and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

lylas

Steel Magnolia

I love this duo as much as I love the film of the same name -- a whole lot!



Megan and Josh won CMT's "Can You Duet"; in the video, they meet in a karaoke (or as my friend Ana says, the fine art of hapanese kar-ah-okee) bar just as they did in real life three years ago. See, you can learn bunches from reality tv!