Thursday, December 23, 2010

I Saw Angels!!!!

I have had this blog post pinging around in my head for over a month now and it has been difficult getting it down on paper.  I’m not really sure why but everything that I write lately seems like meaningless dribble.  I am definitely in a funk.  The Christmas spirit is evading me and I am way too tired to chase it down.  

So in my attempt to ignore Christmas 2010, my mind wandered back to thoughts of “Christmas Past”—probably circa 1968…Though it was over 40 years ago I can clearly see the triangle shaped church sanctuary.  And if I gaze into this memory long enough I am pleasantly carried to that place. Suddenly I am four years old.  I am wearing saggy white tights. I am sitting in a wooden church pew…with other kids just my same size. 

See that is me! 

Waaaaaay at the end
of the pew...

This is probably the earliest recollection I have of Christmas.  As far as memories go, my thoughts are gentle, polite, grateful…and yes, “precious”.  It is a good memory—a gift to this unsettled present. 

This is the first Church Sunday School Program that I remember. There were songs, poems and Scripture. Brown paper bags with peanuts, apples, and candy. Pleased parents…. and one crabby Sunday school teacher (I’ll explain later). But last, but not least, I remember the Nativity play that the older kids re-enacted. I was enthralled, enraptured, enamored and any other ‘en’ word you want to enlist…envision…or even “en”vent! (Sorry, I get carried away)

Forget the Sunday morning flannel board—Mary, Joseph and Jesus were alive and boy was I psyched! I had been transported to Bethlehem. I sat transfixed—the reality of Luke Chapter Two had entered my life…

I am not sure what happened that night. My heart left my chest and hung suspended in that Spirit place ‘tween Zion and earth. My soul sensed Heaven …and I longingly remembered my Home before home.

I saw Mary and Joseph—and an angel. I saw Baby Jesus—and an angel. I saw the manger—and an angel. I saw The Three Wise men. I saw three angels. I saw the Shepherds. I saw the angels. I saw sheep. I saw angels. I saw camels. I saw angels. I saw the star. I saw angels. I saw Gold. I saw angels. I saw Frankincense. I saw angels. I saw Myrrh. I saw angels. I saw straw. I saw angels. Oh, I saw angels…my long, lost best buddies from way up on High!

So I crept, crawled, pushed and then shoved. Over knees, butts and elbows I wiggled and squeezed. Determined I crept despite my classmate’s displeasure. I knew it was wrong; I should stay in my seat. But the promise of the gold tinsel halo lay ahead at her [crabby SS Lady] feet. I followed my heart and timidly tugged at her dress…

Ever so softly, I whispered my plea, “Dear Sunday School Lady, I want to play with the angels” “Can I be an angel too?—oh, please, oh please, please?”

“NO!!!!! Get back to your seat!

And that was that…until 40 some years later...

I found a white sheet and a wee bit of tinsel.......

In fact I have collected a whole medley of scruffy tinsel wearing peeps who probably won't make sainthood...but I love them none the less...

Good news from heaven the angels bring,
Glad tidings to the earth they sing.
To us this day a child is given,
To crown us with the joy of heaven 
Martin Luther


Friday, November 26, 2010

i believe part III

I believe...

"Vision without execution is delusion"

- Thomas Edison

I believe...

"There was never a genius without a tincture of madness"

- Aristotle

I believe...

"A whistling girl and a crowing hen, never come to a very good end"

-Anna Ulferts-Ryks

I believe...

That I need some time off

Don't worry.

(when I get my homework done)

Thursday, November 25, 2010

i believe in more

I believe...
In the power of gratitude.  Something magical happens when I purposefully choose to be thankful and let go of misery & self-rightousness

 I believe...
that pride is my greatest enemy

I believe...
that Heather has her shit together, is a great friend and an even better defender.

I believe...
that I am simply a temporary amusement for a cyber critic and I am asking politely that he move on...  

I believe...
"That I, with body and soul, both in life and in death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Savior Jesus Christ; who with His precious blood has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father not a hair can fall from head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, wherefore by His Holy Spirit He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me heartily willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto Him" (from memory...)

I believe...
That I am called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but my own vulnerable self (Henri Nouwen)--Thanks Henri you took the words right out of my mouth

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

i believe

     Family circumstances are such that I have the
 of hosting
 my very first Thanksgiving meal.

Never made the 'Bird' before...
I don't own matching dishes or a full flatware set...

And I am sad & scared about the family 'shi-crap'...

Then the blog...
"It's obvious that Annette is a "thinker"...but she needs
 to think a lil' more. And, she really doesn't know what she believes" 

Never have I been accused of needing to
"think a lil' more"...

Over-thinking has always been my problem
And now I have a  persistent, never quiet question meadering
through my head...

"What do I believe?"


Today I believe:

  •   In the wisdom of AA
  •  That love is a difficult discipline   

That's about it for now...I am a slow starter 

Until tomorrow...

(why am I doing this?)


Jeff Foxworthy: I believe that no matter what anybody says, everybody pees in the pool.

Bill Engvall: Or in the shower.

Larry the Cable Guy: Or in the sink.

[Jeff and Bill give him weird looks]

Jeff Foxworthy: I believe... that's the last time I eat at your house.

- Source Unknown

Sunday, November 21, 2010


I have been sitting in front of my computer today composing.  I finished my journal for NURS775,  finished my "Evaluation of Internship Experience" paper and attempted to finish my "Philosophy of Christian Nursing Leadership" paper.  I didn't get the philosophy paper done because I am brain dead, sick of writing school crap and am feeling anxious, irritable, crabby and worn-out; subsequently, I do not feel very Christain at the moment and with that said I am therefore UNQUALIFIED to write the paper to begin with.

I'm not really sure that "Christian" is suppose to be a feeling... I sometimes think that I am confused about the term ."Christian". Period.  No matter what the context. 

All I know is that, "I like the whole God/Jesus/Holy Spirit trinity deal and I think that the trinity package likes me".  And in my estimation,  "like" carries a whole lot more weight than "love".  I mean "love" seems more of an obligation where, "like" is a choice...

I like choice. 

A good example of this principle is found in my marriage to my amazingly likable husband.  For approximately 19.5 years I "loved" my husband...but I didn't "like" him, and honestly life was not much fun...  Currently, I "like" my husband and life is so much better.  I'll trade you "like" over "love" anyday.  If you disagree with my theory that's okay, I don't have to love OR like you... 

I think I'm rambling...but, I just wanted to say something that was not theory, researched based or requiring APA format...

I think that I am done now.

Thursday, November 11, 2010


Have you ever thought about you?
I mean the you that was you before you were you?

I'm talking about the you that was you
before the "ewe" [aka "yuck"] of parental procreation...

I have.

I have had this strange imagining lately.
In my imagination I see myself called to the throne room of Heaven.

In my imagination I am not Annette the adult or Annette the child or Annette the infant or even Annette the embryo. 

No, in my imagination I am Annette--itty, bitty, pea-sized sunbeam of spirit, and I am standing in God's Holy Presence. (Or would I be levitating, floating, beaming...whatever)

He tells me He wants to send me to Earth.  I am going on a journey.  I will be born.  I will live.  I will die.  He starts to fill me in on some of the details of this adventure...

....and I throw the biggest temper tandrum you could ever imagine.  My retort to God goes something like this:

You have got to be nuts!  I'm not going down there.  Have you seen what they do to one another.  I don't belong there.  I want to stay here. You know if I go down there it won't go well.  I'll make a wreck of things. You know I don't like people.  People are messy.  Please let me stay.  Please let me stay.  Please.  Please.  Pretty please? 
Yea, it goes down something like that.  The me that was me before I was me was "all about me".  Somethings never change.

And apparently I did not win the debate because as you can tell, here I am.  A misfit, vagabond and ragamuffin just hanging out living life as best she can.  Knowing that there is more.  Yes.  More.  Thankfully.  More. 
    “If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world”
--C.S. Lewis

Monday, November 8, 2010

My Favorite First Lady

One rose in 1933 was named the Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt rose 

"I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: no good in a bed, but fine up against a wall."

Eleanor Roosevelt


Sunday, November 7, 2010

Blaze. Orange.

Just pretending lately that all is fine. 

That is pretty much all I have to say.

I use to be good at keeping quiet.

It is hard now.

Some stories are not mine to tell.

Here is what I can tell you...

Went for a walk this morning.  Wore the Blaze.  Orange.  Beanie. 

I like the Blaze. Orange. Beanie. 

Blaze. Orange. is hard to ignore.

Other stuff is hard to ignore too. 

Blaze. Orange.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Can't wait for 2012...

Ahhhhhh...At Last!...Election Day!
The Drama. Will. Soon. Be. Over.

It is Tuesday morning.
I have not yet voted.
But I will.

 I am still undecided on some of the candidates.

You would think after they (the politicians and their respective parties) spent millions on ads/ mailings/media/ meant to "educate" me (the voter) and give me (the voter) the information needed to make an informed choice that I (the voter) would have all that I need to confidently walk into the township hall and drop my ballot in the bucket...

Millions of dollars have failed me (the voter).
I found no benefit in any of it.

The candidates have put so much effort into pointing out their opponents shortcomings they have neglected to hammer home what they represent.

I find that I am confused about where the candidates stand on the important issues facing our state and nation.

I am having difficulty deciding which candidate will not take a hammer or chisel to our Nation's Christian Foundation.

I have formed no affinity toward any candidate or political party. 

I really do not even want to vote.
But I will.

The verbal bloodshed has been particularly ugly this election...

And I have decided that I will caste my vote based upon one simple issue that is important to me:



"Which candidate BASHED their opponent less?"
That is the question I will attempt to answer today.

It is gonna be a hard...

The Simple Suffragist

Saturday, October 30, 2010

God sees you even in the bathrrom

I absolutely hate it when "no-touch" sensor-driven technology refuses to acknowledge my presence! 

You know what I am talking about:  Hand dryers, faucets, soap dispensors and lets not forget...toilets that can't sense the motion of my lily white tush! (and that is not the word that I wanted to use)

Why is it that this stuff can't "see" me?  Am I wearing the wrong color?  Do I not radiate the correct infrared wave frequency?  I don't get it.  Is it just me? 

I've been told that they "see" motion, but I am not convinced.  I kid you not, I have done something I have come to call the "Walmart Wiggle" and I still come up wet handed!

Well this phenomena has got me to thinking about God. Yup, in my head there is a connection. 

I have always liked the story of Hagar in the Bible.  Here is the simple version:  Hagar is a slave woman who gets knocked up by her master, Abraham at the request of  Abraham's wife, Sarah.  (Sarah is barren).  Well Sarah gets all bent out of shape about something and then tells Abraham to get rid of her and they kick Hagar to the desert.  (This is my version, for the Biblically correct version go to Genesis 16 or so)

Anyway, this Egyptian slave encounters God in the desert and He sees her predicament and speaks to her...  In fact, Hagar coins a new name for God...EL ROI (pronounced Elroy--like George Jetson's dog).  Anyway, EL ROI means "The God Who Sees ME".

This name for God is only used once in the entire Bible...and it is Hagar's story.  I like that...  (and I bet that if Hagar lived in 21st century USA the bathroom fixtures would cooperate for her!)

So everytime those blasted dryers, soapers and flushers won't work for you, just remember that even if they can't see you--God can. 

So have a great Saturday morning and if you end up in a Walmart bathroom or such, just go ahead, I won't judge you...just shake wiggle, shake and if need be dance...and if all else fails, just wipe your hands on your pants.

The Church Organist Daughter

She [Hagar] gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her:  "You are the God who sees me, " for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me."  That is why the well was call Beer Lahai Roi [well of the Living One who sees me"]  Genesis 16:13-14 
Seriously a Beer well...I am all for beer...well I use to be...

Thursday, October 21, 2010


I have been creatively stunted lately.  Just haven't felt that I have much to contribute to the Blogosphere.  These "dry spells" generally coincide with periods of duress.  Too much work.  Too little play.  Too.  Too. Too everything...

However today I have had a breakthrough and have some thoughts I would like to share.  Life still feels a little (okay, "a lot") cRoOKed & UnBALAnCeD, but I need to say something, or surely my head will soon go kablooey!

My topic really is quite sensitive, a little delicate and in some circles unmentionable.
Let's talk BVDs, G-strings, bikinis, boxers, briefs,  drawers, intimate things, lingerie, loincloth, long johns, panties, skivvies, underclothes, undies undergarment, underpants, underthings, knickers, and bloomers...

Lately I have found myself describing the quality of a day in terms of what a particular undergarment might feel like to ME should I be required to wear it.

For instance, a happy, contented, peaceful & productive day equates (in my world) wearing the classic brief : nylon shell, no lace (too itchy), tags torn out and a cotton crotch... 
A less satisfying day would perhaps be labeled a hipster or high cut brief  day.  Life is pretty good with just a few adjustments here and there.

A "bad day" is equivalent to the boy short or bloomers.  I think that bloomers really are quite deceptive; they give the illusion & promise of comfort, but in reality they ride up and twist on you at will.  

In my world an absolute crap day is symbolized by the infamous thong .   If I were to report to you that, "I am having a thong kinda day", it would probably be in your best interests to stay away and let me ride out the wedgie.

Speaking of thongs...I woke this morning all crabbied-up and irritated and sent the following text to a friend who understands my strange language.  It read: 

"Thong.  On backwards.  And it is splitting the girls in two.  And you?" 

And with that word picture I will leave you...

Wishing you all a "cotton-crotch" kinda day,

The Church Organist Daughter

Monday, October 11, 2010

not forgotten.

This month I celebrated 21 sober months.
My husband bought me a cake.
It said, "Happy 21st"
Thanks, Hun...
I loved the frosting.

This picture was also taken this month.
I like this picture.
I can see myself again.

It really took a long time for this girl to come out of hiding.
I mean she quit drinking twenty-one months ago...
What took her so long?

I have stared at the stranger in the mirror I hope for the last time.
The stranger I both smiled politely at and I cursed at.
I think she is gone.

But not forgotten.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

sit like a lady...

This was Rosebud's and Clodhopper's favorite chair while growing up.

They often would "negotiate" to determine which of them got to sit in the chair first.  

This chair was awesome.  It was round, blue and made of 'slippery-est' of vinyls.  Clodhopper and Rosebud would slide, spin and splay their limbs every-which-direction.  Sitting still was simply not an option.  Maintaining an erect and lady-like posture was out of the question... 

I can still hear The Mom & The GrandMom, "Sit like a lady!"

But we weren't ladies then...we were kids...and we sat like kids...

 I believe that if Rosebud & Clodhopper had access to a cool, round, blue chair today, they still MIGHT still push & shove a little to get first chance at it.... but they would most DEFINITELY still sit, spin, splay all that unladylike sisters do.  Yup...that is what they would do...

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

games we played

Remember some of the 'games' we use to play? 

As a kid, I always thought that I really liked this know...the one where YOU always cried "Uncle!"

However, as an adult, I believe I have changed my mind...

The game involved pretending that something didn't hurt when in reality it really, really did.

And over the years I became really, really good at that game.

I was really good at the "Uncle" game. 
Deny pain.  Show no fear.  Hold back the tears.  Stand firm.  Do not wince (not even a little).  And NEVER let the word "uncle" escape from your lips!

I was also really good at the game because I could pack a solid & effective whallop in return. (of all things to be proud of...) 

I have learned the hard way that surrender (admitting, submitting, committing) is a necessary part of my (sane) life.  The journey to this realization was long & hard (and filled with stupidity)

Rosebud, you were far better and quicker than I at crying out, "uncle" and I believe you are a far better person because of it. 

 The exact origin of "say uncle" or "cry uncle," an American invention first appearing in written English around 1918, is unclear, but there are, as usual, some interesting theories. One theory posits that "uncle" is actually a mangled form of the Irish word "anacol," meaning "protection" or "safety," making a demand from an aggressor to "cry uncle" is really a  "cry for help"  a signal of surrender.  An admission of helplessness and a plea for mercy.

So here goes peeps...
I'm gonna say it...
Are you listening?


Sunday, September 26, 2010

she crossed the line

Dear Rosebud,
Do you remember the spot
where  pavement met cement?

It was the line you always insisted upon crossing!

off you would go...into the street meant for cars...not for red trikes...

It is funny the things you remember from childhood...
For instance...

I do not remember Grandma yelling
I do not remember Grandma running

I would guess that you exasperated her to no end!

Yet, I never remember her blowing a gasket
(or even the hint of a leak)

I believe she was a woman of few words, patience and deliberate action efficiency was her MO

I remember it clearly...the connection secure...

The Rosebud
The Trike
The Garage door handle...

Yes, naughty you were
But, ingenious she was...

The End

Tuesday, September 21, 2010


I am so sorry for that day  spent at Hawk Creek.

There were Four kids~

Three kids--naughty-
One kid--just wanting to fit in.

The Rosebud. The Clodhopper*. The Stevie B*. The Mikey G*.
*Denotes a NAUGHTY kid

Sorry for tossing those stinky eggs at you.  (Okay, it was more like "whipping" them at you) & smirking when they exploded at your feet (and in your hair and on your clothes...)

I am sorry for what I did to you in effort to impress a couple of jerk Jr. High guys.
(One of which later broke up with me on prom night!...what a pecker!) 

Anyway, I am glad they have moved on and it is you that remain. 

Please consider this a public and most sincerest of apologies.
I am sorry.
I humbly ask for your forgiveness.
I promise to NEVER, EVER toss rotten eggs at you again.
The Clodhopper

Saturday, September 18, 2010


On that evening the car sat in the driveway under the yard light.  The weather was coolish and it was dark outside. 

The family (the Dad, the Mom, the Rosebud & myself) was on its way to a destination (I'm not sure where) that required the use of the auto...

Let me share just a smidge of history before I go any further with my story.  The Rosebud, approximately age four, consistently demonstrated mischevious behavior.  She was giggly, fun, chatty & fast... A bright eyed and determined lass, alway the first to SCOOT to the car, DIVE into the drivers door, SHIMMY across the bench seat and SLAM her little fist onto the door lock.  Effectively locking the Mom out of the car.  Oh, she would laugh...(the Rosebud NOT the Mom).  It was such great, great fun!  And she did this over, over, over & over again... 

Back to the story... The final episode of Rosbud's last 'Dive, Shimmy, Slam'...

So here is how it went down.  The Rosebud DOVE into the driver's side door, SHIMMIED across the seat and was about to SLAM her little fist...when the passenger side door flew open.  The momentum of her "diveshimmy" carried her out & through...landing at the Mom's feet.  Her eye's wide ~ crying tears.  Her mouth wide ~ spitting gravel.

 As she cried & spit she acquired a new nickname: 
"Speedy the Gravel Eater". 

I believe the Rosebud realized at that very moment that speed and gravel do not mix...and her troubled ways were mended...(at least temporarily)

 The End

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Sunday, September 12, 2010

A Caryn-ism...

the sweetest wedgie I've ever seen...

Sometimes memories have a way of unexpectedly sneaking up on me.

For instance, today while at work, I experienced a certain posterior "discomfort"...

And all of a sudden I hear my sister's voice roll through my head.

"If you have a wedgie, pick it out.  And all day long you'll have good luck..."

(Seriously, she says stuff like that)

The End


A very lucky Church Organist Daughter

Thursday, September 9, 2010

rosebuds & lemons

There once was a young girl named Clodhopper who lived under the great Cottonwood tree with her little sister.  Her name?  It was Rosebud

They were a fine set of siblings.  The one large, soft and shy--the other small, giggly with mischief in the eye.

They slept in the same bed--one now displays a  distinct divot on the tip of her chinny-chin-chin. 

A battle wound.  Sheet wrestling.  I know I WOULD definitely still win.

They dined at the same table.  Partook of what fed. 

They were sneaky.  The promise of sweetness, always lie straight ahead!

They stole from the kitchen. 

Crept slowly. Then ran.

Climbed high and then higher.

Found the dessert (de-zert) heaven.

In a green leafy green tree sky.

There they feasted on lemon. 

Slicked small sticky fingers & smacked sugar sweet lips.

It was there in that heaven--they fought, laughed, talked, screamed and fought just a bit more.

In that tree sky, one sister squatted.

Bared her youth bottom.

The other?  She just nodded...

"Look-out below! Heads-up it's raining!"

And we smiled.  Knowing it was wrong.
And we smiled.  Knowing it was naughty.
And we smiled.  Knowing we will always and forever...
Love green trees & sunshine and the flavor of lemon.

This is story #1 of a series called, The Adventures of Clodhopper & Rosebud

Caryn,  you may want to reconsider your request... 

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Regarding Monsters & Miracles

I have never seen a greater monster

or miracle than myself~


Have you ever had a life experience that is just too painful to talk about? An event that you throw into the back of the mustiest and dustiest of closets and you gently, yet firmly close that door...forever

Oh, don't get me wrong, I think about the closet and its contents on a daily bases. I often reach out toward the knob as if to open it and then I quickly withdraw my hand and I think, "No, not is not a good day...I don't have the is still so shameful...and besides, I still can't find the words for what happened that horrible day..."

The contents of this closet have only been discussed in the presence of:

  1. The Hubby

  2. The Therapist

  3. The Pastor

  4. The BFF

(and let me tell you, talking to #3 was a HUGE mistake)

Well, today is my 46 Birthday...and I recieved the best(est) Birthday gift EVER!

I recieved WORDS...

Oh, granted these WORDS made me cry...

However, these WORDS slipped inside the sacred closet... subdued shame...and sent peace...

I have been slowly learning that healing for me begins as the WORDS begin to form--because the secrets will keep you sick...

"Thank-you Abba for this experience called life"
"Thank-you BFF for obediently using your gift"

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I am a nurse.

Sometimes I hate being a nurse.

Sometimes I even hate nurses.

Myself included.

I am feeling ambivilent about my chosen profession.



Even a little quesy.

In 21 years as a Registered Nurse I have only ONE distinct memory of regretting my career choice because a nurse-patient interaction. (a patient was verbally critical & sarcastic)


In 21 years as a Registered Nurse I have COUNTLESS recollections of regretting my career choice because of nurse-nurse interactions.

This phenomena is called 'lateral violence'.

If you still don't believe me here is another really good article.

I am tired.

I am in need of perspective.

I am in need of serenity.

I am in need of courage.

I am in need of wisdom.

I am in need of ....


Please click on the empty beer cans for an attitude adjustment!
It worked for me!!!

Dedicated to KF... you make me smile...

Saturday, August 28, 2010

41 cents

I am just going to come right out and say it, "This has been a difficult day..."

Kendra left for college this morning...

I am happy for her and all of the promise and possibilities her future holds...

But I am sad for me...

I am feeling "out-of-sorts", and "wonky" as a friend of mine would say... so today is one of those risky kind of days. I really don't like admitting my weaknesses when it comes to all of this addiction stuff. But this sad, twisted feeling is uncomfortable, and I don't like discomfort. I have had thoughts of, "I don't want to think" and "I don't want to care". This is my way of admitting that ETOH has been on my mind... And "yes" it is very scary the intensity of this desire.

So instead of alcohol, I have succumbed to the acceptable addiction of housework and busyness. It occupies my hands and intensifies my belief that someday I will have a perfectly clean and orderly house. So I have cleaned Kendra's room, picked up Jameson's room, organized the laundry room, mopped the floor (on my hands and knees), washed, dried and folded laundry, done the dishes, swiffered the entire house, shook out the throw rugs, planted mums, put salt in the water softner, brought out the garbage, swept the basement, started a collection for GoodWill and started to organize shelves in the basement...

when I saw it...

An old briefcase.

I used it when I had the job that took me away from my family. I used it during a period of my life where I was lonely. I was discontent. I was resentful. My back hurt. I was depressed. I believed that I needed those pills. I believed that I deserved those pills.

I use to carry my pills in that old briefcase. Perhaps a few remain hidden deep in a pocket or seam. So I looked. And I looked some more.

The picture above is what I did find: One T-pin, 41cents, a computer thingy, 2 paper-clamps and a crumpled Butterfinger wrapper...

Am I disappointed? No.

Am I grateful? Yes.

Will I ever again look in cubbyholes, pockets, purses, closets, drawers...?

Probably. Just saying...

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Five A Day

"I'm the kind of person that feels a heavy ache over disorder. The state of my home is the state of my head and heart and I've been thrown off, tired, in a funk. " Heather

Every once in a while I feel overwhelmed by my surroundings and I get this tremendous urge to unclutter my environment. It seems that I can't concentrate when my home is a mess. It is like there is some weird equation, analog or natural law at work (i.e. 1+1=2, this is to this as that is to that, or 'The force of gravity equals the gravitational constant times the mass of the satellite times the mass of the earth divided by the square of the distance ...') (sorry, I'm rambling)

I am not sure that I can write a nice, neat equation about the relationship between my brain and my home, but I know it involves something that I would coin, "the serenity factor" and an 'if-then' hypothesis or implication:

If household clutter and chaos are high, then mental clarity and serenity are crappy.

If household clutter and chaos are low, then mental clarity and serenity are better.

If household clutter and chaos are absent, then mental clarity and serenity are...even better.

I am often very jealous of people that can function in any environment. Me? Not so much...I have been this way for most of my adult life. Sometimes the sheer magnitude of what I think I need to do overwhelms me and I do nothing...

If Annette ignores the house and does nothing, then the house is messy, serenity is absent and mental clarity scores a 'zero'

So in order to avoid this situation, I started my own "Five a Day" campaign. Where on any particular day I say to myself... "Today I will rearrange, throw or give away FIVE items" and I will do this everyday for a set length of time or until the clutter feels manageable.

Today was the first day of "Five a Day"...and I was psyched!

It started out great...

Item #1:Old crappy polyester sweatpants

Item #2: Old, yucky curtain.

Then I made the mistake of going to my

16 year old son's room...

Item #3: Bag of clothing that no longer fits

Item #4: Bag of dirty (stinky) laundry

Item#5: Bag of (extreme stinky) garbage

This is not how the "Five a Day" campaign is suppose to is suppose to be easy, simple and produce mental calm and spiritual serenity.

My thoughts today have been anything but serene and as for the boy...he is so lucky that I think he is cute and that I am glad that he is mine, because I had a few (more than five) not so motherly thoughts run through my head...

So, signing off....wish me luck for my next "Five A Day" Day

Note to self: Stay out of Kendra's room.

The End~

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Rest assured...

This is a picture of my lovely daughter (the one wearing the signage) and the equally lovely, Hannah (no signage--just big beautiful brown eyes).

Rest assured she is wearing a bathing suit under the signage (at least that is what she tells me).

It is now just a short ten days until her departure to college and I am already feeling lonely. We have had a superb summer. I have learned so much about her and surprisingly at the same time a lot about myself. She inspires me to be a better me and for that I am so very grateful.

Oh, we have had a few disagreements this summer, but at this very moment I can't tell you what they entailed. (Most likely the momma maid was upset about the long hours, poor tips and lack of appreciation) (...but she usually gets over it quickly...)
However, what I can tell you is that we have had genuine, heartfelt conversations about things that are important to us:
God, faith, religion, church, weddings, brides maids, flowers, pee-oh-knee, pee-a-knee, (peony), Dads, brothers, friends, alcohol, work, school, science, health, beauty, packages, exercise, alternative medicine, family, likes, dis-likes, books, boys (A boy), The Food Network, FaceBook, blogging, tri-athalons, pooping (there is a story here--we don't just randomly pick "poop" as the topic of the day), hair-color, finances, money, debt, happiness, sadness, depression, sunshine, the past, the present, the future, our fears, our hopes, our plans, our dreams, good food, having a momma who is an alcoholic and of course being a momma who is an alcoholic... ((sigh))

It has been pure bliss...which is significant as I am not a fan of random verbal banter. It has been a special kind of wonderful...a Heaven on Earth.

Speaking of Heaven....Kendra (the daughter) was talking to me (the momma) about what some of the differences between our earthly and heavenly bodies might be. Kendra would like wings, while I do not necessarily care for our conversation continued she got a rather contemplative look on her face and announced, "I just don't want to be naked in Heaven"... And upon that point we agreed.

It is time to end this. But before I go I just want to tell my

Dear, Precious, Daughter,

Rest Assured...

"What is said on the walk.

Stays on the walk".
I love you!
The Momma

Saturday, August 14, 2010

a picture story

When you look at me...
What do you see?

Do you see ...

Or do you see...

The End...

Friday, August 13, 2010

Thunder & Lightning

"The more we know about meteorology, the less inclined we are to pray during a thunderstorm."

Brennan Manning. Ragamuffin Gospel

The Thunderstorm last evening was




However, in this day of Doppler radar and professional storm chasers

My first reaction was "Crap!"

We're going to get water in the basement again!

But as I took these pictures I felt a pang of fear…

I sensed the storm's power

And I was grateful

For in that moment of fear

My eyes opened to see a sky charged with the grandeur of God

Then…I prayed