Everyday Life

Categories Everyday Life

Stumbling into a hippy house

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Lincoln’s hippies are alive and well–if you know how to find them.

Incidentally, I stumbled upon a hippie hostel just this afternoon.

I’d never been to our local cooperative grocery, preferring instead to shop at Super Saver, where food is plentiful and inexpensive.

But today I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to buy some vanilla beans to make vanilla extract with. So I stopped in at Open Harvest.

The clerk was my age, but her hair hung wavy and free down her back. Her peasant skirt and Birkenstocks flaunted her counter-culture, natural-health identity. The customers were either young people with multiple piercings or middle-aged men. I felt immediately out of place in my trim turquoise suit with hose and business flats. Only my homemade white canvas shopping bag kept me from being immediately ejected as an outsider.

Reserving judgement, the clerk asked me if I was a member/owner. I told her no, I was not. She asked me if I’d like information about membership. Sure, I said, why not. She sized me up one last time before making her final suggestion: “Would you rather just take a brochure home to read at your leisure? Or did you want me to tell you about it now?” Her assessment was apt–I’d certainly rather take home a brochure.

I liked the store. Really, I did. I have little use for organic food, but Open Harvest has more than organic to recommend it. A wide selection of bulk foods–esoteric grains, beans, and spices. Several different gluten-free flours (to experiment with for education sake and to use to cook for a friend with celiac.) Essential oils and the like. I enjoyed my quick visit. I’ll probably be back.

But I don’t know if I’ll drop by quickly after work any more. I’d rather change before I go–put on my longest skirt and tons of beads, let down my hair and hide my lack of Birkenstocks. I’ll get myself some Patchouli or not put on deodorant in the morning–anything to cover up the absence of the distinctive odor of marijuana or clove cigarettes. No one mentioned my lack of non-conformity today, but I don’t know if I could get away with it a second time.

Categories Family & Friends

Stealing Grace’s Story

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Snuggled up in her blanket watching a movie, Grace was loathe to move when she heard the knock at the door. “Come in,” she yelled. She repeated her cry a little later, a little louder, when she heard the second knock. Several minutes later, the doorbell rang and she almost stomped to answer it.

Flinging open the door, she found herself face to face with a state trooper.

Yeah. Embarrassing.

For those who are wondering, you need not be worried. The state trooper was simply issuing my mom a subpoena we have been expecting for a while. If you think of her, please pray that she might have strength to testify boldly and truthfully. And pray that justice would be meted out.

Categories Family & Friends

The Sweet Smell of Second Chances

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My brother Daniel works in a research greenhouse. This winter, they have dozens of African violets to get rid of. So Daniel brought a couple home for Mom, and one for his girlfriend.

I was admiring them one day and asking how much he paid for them, when he said nothing. “We have, like, 50 more to get rid of.” So I asked him if he could get one for me.

His answer was an unqualified NO. His two reasons were

  1. I keep my house COLD and African violets will completely die at temperatures below 65 degrees.
  2. I don’t exactly have the greatest track record for keeping plants alive–I tend to be gung-ho about projects for a couple of weeks and then just let them go (not the best plan with living things).

I tried to convince him that I could still handle a plant–after all, my bedroom (upstairs) generally stays above 68 degrees and I’ve instituted a planner system that regularly reminds me to take care of my plants. But still, he remained firm.

Imagine my surprise when I picked up the phone this morning to hear: “Light or dark purple?” Actually, I was completely confused. What on earth was he talking about? “African violets. Do you want a light or dark purple one?”

He was getting me a violet! Now sitting on my dresser is a beautiful dark purple African violet–the sweet smell of second chances.

Categories Everyday Life

Welcoming a New Year

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I have a number of goals for this year–about a bazillion ;)–but no resolutions. At least, no resolutions along the lines of “I’m going to exercise every day this year”, “I’m going to read through the Bible”, “I’m going to achieve self-actualization.”

Instead, I’m going to keep on with Flylady. I’m going to work towards the healthy behaviors I listed earlier. I’m going to attempt to resume my piano practice. I’m going to try to blog 5 times a week. I added A Year with the Institutes to my RSS feed, so maybe while I’m wasting time exploring blogs this year, I’ll get Calvin’s Institutes read too.

I’m keeping things pretty low-key–nothing too set in stone. Nothing too demanding. Just taking the opportunity of a fresh year to do some of those things I’ve wanted to do for a while.

I feel like I’ve made a pretty good start on the year. Today I:

  • changed the sheets on my bed
  • had a talk with my little sister
  • watched the Gator Bowl with my family (Huskers won, duh!)
  • finished my laundry
  • completed the WIC modules I’ve been working on for a couple of days
  • finished writing notes on a book
  • finished reading Getting things done by David Allen
  • read a chapter apiece of Peter Pan and Pretty Good Jokes (I’m working on learning some new jokes–and I actually remembered two well enough to share them at appropriate moments during commercials today!)
  • listened to todays reading from the Calvin’s Institutes
  • cut out a sewing pattern
  • listened to (and took notes on) the first session of William Bell’s Old Testament Survey from Discipleship Library

And now, having had a full and productive year (thus far), I’m going to get ready for bed!

Categories Family & Friends

Hobby Lobby with Mommy

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She called at 10–when I was (gasp) still in bed. “My picture’s in, would you like to go to Hobby Lobby with me to help me pick out some stuff to go with it?” Sure I’d go, I said, as soon as I got dressed.

She got a gift card from the church as a thank you for the last twelve years teaching Sunday School. Something to use to decorate her “new” house with.

We went and played around with flowers and vases and little statues and this and that. I didn’t feel that useful, actually. I dug about, searched around–kept her looking at different flowers much longer than she probably would have preferred.

After we got everything inside and arranged the way we liked it, I announced that I’d be heading back home. “Thank you,” Mom said. “I don’t have a lot of confidence with that kind of stuff.”

Maybe not. But I have confidence enough for a dozen women. Probably just another example of “fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” Somehow I never got the “timid about taste” gene. I’m not the most genius decorator, I’m not even really THAT artistic. But I’m not afraid to give anything a go.

I trust Mom’s sense of style and her judgment. I’m sure that (even with her lack of confidence) she would have picked out something that would have looked great. But I’m pleased nonetheless that she invited me to share her little shopping trip. Nothing better than Hobby Lobby with Mommy.

Just for the record: No, I do not call my mother “Mommy” (except when I have an opportunity for a bit of assonance.) I call her “Mom”–or “la madre” or “mother” or “mother dear” or “los padres” (when referring to both her and my dad.)

Categories Family & Friends

Christmas Traditions

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Cousin Matt tagged me weeks ago for this little meme, but I was in a busy stage and haven’t posted my part yet. So, before Christmas fades away from our memory and the new year sets in–I’ll share three Christmas traditions and pass along the invitation to any/all readers to post their own.

First
My family celebrates on Christmas Eve–always. Which means that I always count the days until Christmas to Christmas Eve. I forget that not everyone counts this way and get really confused when they say something like “Christmas is on a Thursday this year.” And they get really confused when I mention that I couldn’t have walked for my graduation on Saturday, December 22–since Christmas was the Monday following.

Second
My mom makes the most spectacular Christmas cookies–and she makes bunches of them. She freezes enough for each person to have two of each kind of cookie on Christmas Eve. And since she makes somewhere around a dozen varieties of Christmas cookies, that means that she sets out something around 200 cookies (2cookies_per_type_per_personx9personsx12types=216cookies) on Christmas Eve. Needless to say, we’re eating them well into the New Year!

Third
After our Christmas Eve revelries (an early dinner followed by Christmas Eve Services at church followed by much conversation followed by gifts), we generally all settle in for a movie or some games. And inevitably, we children are still up when Mom and Dad decide to go to bed. But since the stockings have yet to be stuffed–and Mom is the stuffer–it leaves us in something of a dilemma. Either Mom has to stay up until we’ve all gone to bed, or she has to wake up really early to stuff the stockings. When we were younger, Dad just ordered us to bed so that Mom could stuff stockings. In the past several years, Mom has risen early to stuff stockings. This year, she used a different approach. “Don’t look” she told us as she stuffed our stockings hanging in the next room over. “Now don’t get into them until tomorrow” she reminded us as she went off to bed. And we didn’t–or at least I didn’t.

Categories Everyday Life, Following Christ, Reflections, Technology

Job Day

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In case you’re not familiar with the phrase, a “Job day” is a day in which everything seems to be going wrong–a la Job in the Bible. One day as Job’s children were enjoying a feast at their oldest brother’s house, a servant came to Job to tell him that his oxen and donkeys had been raided. Then another servant arrived to tell Job that all of his sheep and shepherds had been killed by lightening. Another servant arrived to say that Job’s camels had been raided and their keepers killed. As a final blow, a last servant arrived to inform Job that his eldest son’s house had collapsed, killing every one of Job’s children.

I can’t say my day is quite as bad as Job’s–No one has died, at any rate. But today has still been a bit trying.

It began at midnight. I was still awake from yesterday, and my nose began to run. It ran for several hours–right down the back of my throat–keeping me from being able to sleep and enduing me with a magnificent sore throat.

I finally slept around 7 am. Waking up at noon to a particularly obnoxious song blaring from my computer, I noticed pop-ups appearing on my computer screen. I investigated a bit–and discovered that I had a Trojan. After several hours of investigation and tweaking, I think I removed it all.

But having been reminded that computers are intrinsically fragile, I thought to back up my files again. So I logged on to the family server to back up my files–and discovered that I didn’t have permission to make any changes within my own designated folder. I should have been able to make changes–I backed up the family photos onto the same drive yesterday. But even after a couple more hours of fiddling, I was having no success.

So I dropped by my parent’s house to see if I could adjust permissions from my mom’s computer (the same computer I’d backed up the family photos from the day before). But, to my surprise and horror, I no longer had permission to do anything on the server from there either. I fiddled a bit with no success, unsuccessfully tried to access the server in the basement directly, and finally decided to give up and have a piece of candy.

I was putting Mom’s full candy jar back when it slipped out of my hand and shattered all over her living room floor.

The post-nasal drip has continued. I put on my skirt this afternoon to find that the hem has ripped loose since I last wore it. My new thigh highs won’t stay at my thigh–instead one side slips down to below my knees. My nose is raw, my throat hurts, and I haven’t gotten even one item on my to-do list done today.

I struggle with Job’s response to his very bad day: “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

Instead of returning to praise the Lord, to often I turn to recount my grievances. Sure this day has been a bad day–but then I make it worse by borrowing trouble. I stew about my news from the eye doctor–I’d rather have been born blind than start going blind from glaucoma now. I stew over my singleness. I stew over everything.

The Lord gave me eyesight–doesn’t He have the right to take it back? The Lord gave me health–doesn’t He have the right to retract it? The Lord gave me time–doesn’t He have the right to “waste” it? I came into the world naked and helpless–and I’ll return to the earth in the same state. Is God not still worthy of praise?

So I will praise Him not for what He has done or not done for me, but for who He is. He is GOOD. He is FAITHFUL. He is HOLY. He is ALL-POWERFUL.

My circumstances have changed–but God has not. He is not broken like Mom’s candy jar. He is not swollen like my throat. He is not malfunctioning like my thigh highs. He is not infected like my computer (was). And I still have access to Him–even if I can’t access my folder on the server.

God, it’s been a tough day. But I’m going to praise you anyway.

Categories Family & Friends

Making Mom Cry

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My family celebrates on Christmas Eve–so yesterday we opened our gifts after the Christmas Eve service at church. The kids all went first–handing around presents to the person whose name we drew before thanksgiving. Then we gave Mom and Dad some of their gifts. Then Mom and Dad handed around their presents for us kids. Then we gave Mom and Dad their final gifts.

Dad opened his box to find…a grill cover. Exciting, I know. But the grill cover also came with a note explaining that we’d bought him a new grill for Christmas.

Mom’s gift was even more mysterious. It was heavy and smallish–and she opened it to find a paving stone and a note. The note said that there were more stones (in the shed and on the patio) and that we owed her some flowers come spring. We were giving her a garden getaway in the little nook between the new house and the old.

Dad wanted to see the other paving stone on the patio, so we all went over to the sliding doors. When we opened the drapes and Mom saw the garden bench sitting there, she started crying.

She and Dad popped out really quickly for a photo op on the new bench–and popped in just as quickly (because it was SUPER COLD out there!)

My mom’s a practical woman–and she’s thoroughly enjoyed the new brooms and earrings that she’s gotten over the years. But this year, it was fun to absolutely overwhelm her with an extravagant gift.

I know it’s a cliche–but when Mom teared up every time she passed the porch last night, I knew that it was true–It’s more blessed to give than to receive.

Categories Everyday Life, Reflections

Twilight: A state of ambiguity or obscurity

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I had no expectations when I agreed to see Twilight with my sisters yesterday. I haven’t done much with Anna lately, so when she called to ask me to the movie, I figured I might as well.

I said I started out with no expectations, but low expectations is probably a better descriptor. Face it, teen romance flick + vampire movie ≠ great movie. But Twilight certainly exceeded my expectations.

Grace told me afterward that I would have understood it better if I’d read the books–but I didn’t find it hard to follow at all (which is quite a feat for me, especially without subtitles). The plot was simple and relatively uncomplicated. Knowing that Edward was a vampire from the get-go meant that the entire first half or so of the movie (in which Bella figures out that Edward is a vampire) was pretty dull. The second half sped quickly through what little plot was present and ended with a set up for the next movie (big surprise).

What Twilight lacked in plot it made up in romance–endless shots of Edward and Bella lying next to each other in a meadow, Edward and Bella high in a tree, Edward and Bella at the piano, etc, etc. Which explains the appeal for Grace–and for the scores of young women who adore the movie.

Anna says that she found the concept of restraint and self-control found in the movie refreshing. I agree. You don’t often see self-control promoted in our pop culture. Twilight ups the ante on sexual restraint by having Edward be not only attracted to Bella sexually–but also attracted to her as food.

My primary “thing” against Twilight has always been, and continues to be, that I’m uncomfortable with the degree to which my younger sister (and some of her friends) have gotten into it–particularly, how much they’ve gotten into Edward. I don’t think that obsessions with any fictional or real character are healthy.

The ability of perfectly “okay” books or movies to become pornographic in the mind of a young woman is something that must be guarded against. Unfortunately, discerning what is appropriate and what isn’t is difficult to do. You can’t just check the nudity ratings and see whether there’s a sex scene. You can’t just check the language ratings. Maybe men can use such things to determine whether a movie is safe (I don’t know, I’m not a man)–but women’s minds are much too complex to rely solely on such crude screening devices.

According to screenit.com, Twilight has “moderate” sex and nudity–which consists primarily of a couple of cleavage baring scenes and two kissing scenes. Shouldn’t be a big deal for a girl, right? Not quite. I squirmed through the entire movie–the first half because all the character interactions were so awkward, but the second half because of the sexual tension on-screen. Edward and Bella didn’t have sex. They only kissed on two occasions. But the sneakier, more dangerous material was ever-present. Sitting atop a tree together, watching the view. Walking through the woods, not touching but oh so close. Edward watching Bella sleep. Edward protecting Bella. Intimacy. Closeness. The movie reeks of it. Stronger porn than any sex scene.

The movie wasn’t bad. But I must guard my heart. I won’t be seeing it again.

Categories Family & Friends, Health

Third Time’s a Charm

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Joshua, Daniel, Grace, and myself traveled to our Grandparents’ over the weekend. Originally, the whole family (sans Anna) had planned to go–but we got ice in Lincoln and the forecast said wind for up north. Dad couldn’t risk getting stuck there–and Dan couldn’t go any other time. So we kids braved the weather alone.

It actually wasn’t that bad going up–dry roads to Seward, wet but not messy to Norfolk, messy in Norfolk, and just starting to get icky from Norfolk to Creighton. The trouble was Grandma and Grandpa’s driveway.

Saturday morning, we got going to leave for the hospital–Grandma and Aunt Ruth and Gracie leading the way in Ruth’s SUV, and the boys and I following in Mom’s Buick. The Buick made it up the driveway all right–but the turn onto the road that goes past their house was too much. Joshua and I got out and pushed–and then ran up the hill to get back in at the top where Daniel had stopped.

Sunday morning, we figured we’d get a bit more of a head start so we could make it around the curve. Unfortunately, we backed into a snowdrift and got stuck. So Joshua got out and pushed us out–and then hiked his way up to the top of the hill where we were waiting for him.

Monday morning, we had better luck–we backed into a little drive, got our head start and raced up the hill (so quickly that the turn seemed just a little bit scary!) Third time’s a charm.

Overall, the trip was good–Grandpa is doing much better than I expected. He recognizes people–even remembered that Daniel has a girlfriend and that she’s pretty. He can feed himself pretty well–especially with the weighted gloves that keep his hands from shaking. He can transfer himself from chair to bed–but needs reminders that he should lift off of the seat handles rather than from his walker.

On Monday, we kids went to PT with Grandpa–where they had him work on a little exercise bike/seated stair stepper. They upped his resistance after a while–a sign that he’s improving. Then he played ball with the PT gal–kicking the ball or tossing it, or reaching across to hit the physical therapist’s hands. He had some trouble with left and right–and it seems like he has a harder time getting his left side to “obey instructions” than his right. But he’s showing definite physical improvement.

While we were at PT, Grandpa started to introduce us to the physical therapist. “These are my sons and daughters” he said–but we corrected him right off: “Grandchildren.” He brushed off the correction easily, “Same difference.” It was a relief to see how well he handled it–it was plain that he knew who we are and had just said the wrong thing. This was especially heartening because with Grandma Menter’s Alzheimer’s, she got so that she didn’t know who any of us were or how exactly we were related to her. Not that she was mean or anything–she just didn’t know who we were. Even Dad, whom she recognized the most, she only called her “relative” since she couldn’t figure out how they were related. When I got home and described the situation with Grandpa to Mom, the scenario took on even more meaning. When Grandpa Menter was living with us in the last years of his Parkinsons (which is what they’re saying Grandpa Cook has too), he would think that Mom was his wife and that we were his children–which would make him very confused when Dad would come home and start kissing “his” wife! What a blessing it is that we aren’t having to deal with such confusion with Grandpa Cook.

Grandpa misses home a great deal–and fusses to be back all the time. The nurses and physical therapists and the like are starting to talk like home might actually be a possibility. What a blessing that would be for him and Grandma–assuming that they could get adequate help for his physical needs so that Grandma wouldn’t have to do it all. Grandpa has learned to appreciate Grandma’s cooking after a couple of weeks of hospital food.

The first week after the seizure was certainly the most difficult–no one knew whether he would ever really recover. Certainly, it seemed he was in his last days. But the second week showed promise–and his improvement in this third week has been marked.

Thank you to everyone who has been praying for the family. We continue to ask for prayers–but pray in thankfulness that God has restored Grandpa Cook, our patriarch, to us for a while longer.