Family Fun Part 2

On Saturday, we all headed to West Park in Carmel. It was a beautiful day. We had a picnic lunch and then hit the playground and free waterpark. Jacob (almost 7) got soaked quickly. He loved running in and out of the sprinklers and sitting down in the water. Grace (almost 4) was a bit more timid about getting drenched, but she still had fun. Eighteen-month-old Harrison loved walking up and down the whole area, splashing and kicking along. Every few minutes, the water would shut off for a bit, and so Jacob and I dared each other to run through while the water was off. Of course, my timing was all wrong, and I got a bit wet a few times. (Wanna see more pics?)

Afterwards, we took a short walk on the boardwalk over the wetlands. Along the way, we ran into some kids that had just caught a small turtle in their net. He was so cute. He even poked his head out a couple of times to say hello. Everyone knows that Mel has a thing for turtles (another long story), and so I was thrilled. Hmmmm...I just might need a pet turtle someday.

Saturday evening, the gang headed back home. I was exhausted, but I rather found my apartment a bit too quiet all at once. [sigh!] Thanks, All, for a great 24 hours!

Family Fun

My sister and her family came to my place on Friday evening. We hit the pool right away and then had a late dinner, after which I put the adults to work on making pasties. Growing up in Michigan, pasties were a family favorite, and my sister and I are carrying on with the homemade tradition. It just takes A LOT of time and prep, and so I typically make them with my sister and her husband. Jonathan chopped up the meat, Barbara worked on cleaning and chopping up the carrots, potatoes and onion, and I supervised. I’m kidding. I was working hard, too. Honest! In fact, I starting making the pie dough around 4:30 PM before they arrived a couple hours later.

Basically a pastie is a meat pie you can hold in your hand. While in England, I was pleased to discover that pasties are English fare, and that back in the day, women would send their men off to work with these hearty pastries for their lunch. In the mines, the fields or wherever the men were for the lunch hour, they would pull out their pastie and gobble away, holding onto the braided crust with their unwashed hands. When they finished eating the filling and the crust up to where their fingers were, they would toss the crust away. This was before hand sanitizers, and so in a way, I suppose, this was their preventive way of not contaminating their food with their filthy hands. This whole scenario makes me laugh. In my opinion, the crust is the best part. I mean, yes, the steak, potatoes and carrots are tasty and delicious, but it is the crust that makes it all delectable, and yet, it was originally made to be discarded. Interesting!

We made over 40 pasties on Friday night and early Saturday morning. It was around 2:30 AM when my sister and I finally headed to bed. YIKES! But the tasty pasties were worth it. Despite their high Weight Watchers point value, I’ve sampled a couple since, and I have enjoyed every tantalizing morsel. YUM!

"Be-er" Vs. "Do-er"

My sister Barbara and I are alike in a lot of ways. Yes, we were even mistaken for twins once on the subway in DC, which is a hoot. Remember that, Sis? We don't really look that much alike at all. But the truth is that while we have our similarities (most of which are not visible), we are two very distinct people with completely different personalities.

She likes to “be.”
I like to “do.”

She’s Mary. She’s willing to just soak it all up.
I’m Martha. I struggle with sitting quietly. I need to be “helping.”

Her ideal vacation is relaxing in a beach chair. Come on, have you seen my skin? I can handle the beach chair for about an hour and after that, I’d be as red as a beet. HA!

My ideal vacation is seeing everything within a 50-mile radius. She thinks I’m nuts. She is all for seeing new things but likes to keep the visits short: an hour in a museum is just about right.

Well, this weekend, she and her family are coming to my place for a visit, and I’m totally psyched. She called at 10 PM last night to confirm. Naturally, wanting to be prepared, I had already cleaned just in case. Hey, I wanted to be ready. HA! We talked for a minute, and I launched into my detailed planning strategy. I’m wanting to know the scoop about what we are doing, what we’ll have time to see, etc. I’m ready for a hike, the zoo, a museum, etc. She’s content with whatever. She'd just like to spend time together and lay low.

So we compromised. We’re going to a local park for a picnic and some play time. Of course, I’m totally down with that. I love picnics and every moment with my nieces and nephews is precious.

We talked again this morning, and we started laughing at how different we are. She married a “doer,” and so she has 2 of us to contend with most of the time, which makes it even more comical. Funny how different we are and yet how much we are the same as well! Despite our differences, my sister is my best friend, my confidante, my other self. No one else knows me better. She keeps me real with myself and others. I'm so grateful that she is MY sister.

I love ya, Sis! Can’t wait to just “be” with you this weekend.

I'm Happy With My Height

My friend posted a link to this article, and after reading it, I just laughed. (See, short people can be happy. We laugh, and some of us laugh A LOT. So there...) WHATEVER! Of course, short people have chips on their shoulders because all you tall people out there are always dropping crumbs on us from above. DUH! Come on, keep your mouths closed when you chew!

The truth is that I don’t really mind being short most of the time, and the more weight I lose, the better I enjoy my diminutive stature. It’s not that rough. I'm more flexible and wiry now. I can kick up over my head when I do Tae-Bo. OK, to the giants among us, that means I can kick up to your stomach, but come on, you are slightly impressed, you know you are.

I can get around with ease most of the time. I particularly love those signs that tell people to duck down so they won’t hit their heads on the stairs, etc. I almost never have to duck down to fit anywhere, and I don’t often bang my head on low-hanging chandeliers either. Plus I don’t block other people’s views at the theatre because I usually leave my booster seat at home. OK, that’s a joke. I don’t own a booster seat, but I confess that I have thought about purchasing one.

However, there are moments like grocery shopping where it’s not all that fun being height challenged. I’ve gotten creative in recent months with getting supplies off of the top shelf at Meijer. I mean, I can’t wait around all day for some tall person to rescue me. Now some of my friends may say that I’m missing the opportunity to appear helpless to some tall, single male shopper who might happen along and be dreaming of meeting a single smallish female afraid of heights who needs help with getting things off the top shelves. But come on, the “damsel in distress” thing is over-used these days, and I’m no actress. I’m not afraid to ask for help when I need it or accept it when it is offered, but if I can come up with a solution on my own, I will do it. I’m creatively independent that way. I’ve been known to use a spatula or another product to aid me in retrieving my favorite salad dressing, and just try putting those granola bars out of my reach—I’ll find a way to get to them anyway.

And let’s not forget the joys of air travel. I love to fly, but those overhead bins are not made for people like me. I try to keep my carry-on bag small so that I can just keep it at my feet instead. After all, I don’t need the leg room since my feet barely touch the floor. In the past, I’ve had to resort to some interesting tactics to retrieve my bag from the back of those compartments, and so those bins scare me. It’s like a black hole. (shiver)

So sure, there are disadvantages on both sides of the height world, I suppose. Yes, I always thought it would be nice to be a bit taller, but at present, I rather like being me, even if I am just a squirt, a shrimp, a hobbit-sized person.

1. I don’t think height, any more than money, truly buys happiness. I think happiness is a choice, a mind set. It's an option open to all of us -- every day, every moment

2. I don’t believe that taller people are necessarily smarter. I think it’s just a rumor. I’m not a MENSA candidate myself, but I’m not a complete idiot either.

But just in case there is some truth to this study, I’ve now sworn off men that are under 6 feet tall because I want to give any future offspring a fighting chance for height. Sorry, but I just don’t think smaller stature men should apply for the role. To my fellow petites, I know it may seem selfish of me to discriminate against my own kind especially since I am a card-carrying member of the pint-sized league, but my only thoughts are for my children. I have to put them first.

Disclaimer: The author admits that the use of sarcasm was copiously used in this article, and she begs your tolerance with her choice of expression.

**If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend...**

**Taken from Puck’s final monologue in William Shakespeare’s masterpiece: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 5, Scene 1

Laughing At Myself -- WAIT That Isn't Me!

My friend Lisa shared her “yearbook photos” with me based on this fun website, and then I just had to try it out for myself. I think my favorite is 1966, but 1978 is kinda growing on me, too. I was in stitches at these hilarious “yearbook” shots.

Feel free to check out my silly pictures or make your own using a snapshot of yourself. Lots of laughs!

Creating New Jane Austen Fans

Everyone knows that I love anything Jane Austen. I’ve read all the books more than once, I own most of the films made from her books, and I recently traveled across the ocean to visit some of the locations in Jane’s books and the film locations of the movies. So you could say I’m a fan.

But the latest Austenesque book out there kinda has me half curious, half scared. I mean I try to read and see everything that has anything to do with Jane Austen, but I’m not sure about this selection. Although I must confess, I am considering picking up a copy just to check it out for laughs. Is that disloyal of me? Would my fellow Jane Austen fans disown me? I wonder...

According to the author Grahame-Smith, the original text of the novel was well-suited for use as a zombie horror story: “You have this fiercely independent heroine, you have this dashing heroic gentleman, you have a militia camped out for seemingly no reason whatsoever nearby, and people are always walking here and there and taking carriage rides here and there. It was just ripe for gore and senseless violence. From my perspective anyway.”

That totally makes me laugh. I'm just not sure if I approve of this new ploy to create more Jane Austen fans. HA! On Amazon.com, I also see that there is a novel called "Sense and Sensibility and Sea Creatures" as well. YIKES! What is next? Captain Wentworth in Persuasion as a vampire? WAIT! I might actually use that idea. I like it. Hee hee!

Hmmmm...I am quite sure that Jane just rolled over in her grave.

Wait and See What GOD Does

I discovered Brandon Heath’s music about 4 months ago, and the more I listen, the more I like it. It kinda grows on you. Well, at least, it has on me. The song, “Wait and See,” is a great reminder, as I start another week, that despite my failures of last week or the week before, GOD isn’t done. HE is still working on me. There is hope. I might not always understand what HE is doing, but I know HE is busy and won't quit on me. There is great comfort in that...can you hear it?

There is hope for me yet
Because God won’t forget
All the plans he’s made for me
I have to wait and see
He’s not finished with me yet

Rekindling a Memory

Whenever I feel a bit down or am battling a migraine due to the surly clouds overhead, I think back on a happy memory. I take myself back to another moment in time and revel in it. And let me clarify, I’m not talking about returning to a previous life. I don’t believe in reincarnation, thank-you-very-much. HA! But I do like to think back to a delicious moment in my actual past and savor in it for just a minute, and somehow it helps the present discomfort.

When I was in England, I caught myself breathing in the air, listening carefully and surveying my surroundings with just such a purpose. I wanted to remember everything about that moment. I wanted to fully recall the sights, sounds and smells of that instant so that I could return there again in my memory. My England adventure was full of such moments, but there are other priceless moments I can vividly upload in the widescreeen of my mind if I just shut my eyes for a moment:

My Mom and my Aunt Peggy learning to Waltz off of a library DVD—the giggles that followed brought us all near tears!

Holding my nieces and nephews for the first time—the excitement over holding such beautiful bundles never gets old!

Exploring Biltmore House on the special rooftop tour—so fun to get a behind-the-scenes tour and realizing my hidden dream to give tours myself one day!

Watching my sister come down the aisle to meet her husband-to-be—my attempts to hold back the tears were nearly thwarted when I saw her struggling, too!

Boating around the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore—the spray of the freshwater on my cheeks, the delightful blue green hues of the water, etc.!

Hiking up to the top of Chimney Rock—breathless from the hike and also from the incredible panoramic views up there. Truly amazing!

Yes, I love collecting memories. But these memories are a reminder of something more. My memories are full of the often behind-the-scenes providence and loving kindness of a gracious Heavenly FATHER. If I look carefully with my eyes wide, I can still make out his hand prints throughout my past--guiding, holding, sustaining, delivering. HE was there in the past, HE is here in the now, and HE will continue to be the ONE PERSON consistent throughout the entirety of my life. I am blessed beyond measure with each and every moment HE has given me on this tilted planet we call home.

Thank you, LORD, for the gift of memories. I am so grateful. Help me not to dwell too much on the past, but to embrace the present and look ahead to the future YOU have in store for me.

Conversation With Becky

My friend Becky is building her first home. It’s pretty exciting, and I’m personally thrilled for her. She and I have spent quite a bit of time the last two weekends at the home builders’ design center and a run into Lowes.

On a related topic, she sprang this conversation opener at me a couple of weeks ago...

Becky: I’ve been thinking...(pause) that it would be a big help to me if you had a boyfriend who could help me move.

Me: [choking] What?

Becky: You have like 2 months to make the arrangements. You can do it, and it would really help me out.

Me: [chuckling] Ommmm...right. I guess I just needed the proper motivation to make it happen.

Becky: Exactly.

And so we’ve been going on and on about it ever since. She checks in on a daily or weekly basis to find out how I am progressing with my search, and I just laugh. Of course, I’m not on the 2-month boyfriend plan any more than Becky is on the 5-year marriage plan now that she has decided to go ahead and buy a house. It’s all just for laughs.

Truth is that with Becky and I, you really can’t take anything we say to each other seriously. Yes, we both like wit and sarcasm. And we can keep the banter going back and forth for quite a period. I'm sure we have on occasion shocked more than a few people with our quips, but it's one of the things that makes our friendship special. It's a beautiful thing.

UPDATE: I am thrilled to announce that several people volunteered to help with Becky's move after this post, and I believe that takes me off the hook regarding the 2-month boyfriend plan. WOOHOO!! Becky, however, feels that I am NOT fulfilling my end of the bargain, but I see things differently.

How Will It All Turn Out, I Wonder...

A couple of times a year, I get so enraptured in a book I am reading that I just simply can’t bear to put it down. It must be read, and so I will stay up until the wee hours of the morning finishing the captivating tale. Sometimes it is one of many new novels on my shelves that I just couldn’t resist on my latest trek to Barnes & Noble, and sometimes it is an old dear classic like Jane Eyre. Yes, even though I know how the story ends, I always wait on pins and needles to see if Mr. Rochester and his beloved Jane will finally be reunited. [Sigh! Good stuff that!]

Anyway, this weekend a new novel was to blame, The Host by Stephenie Meyer (author of the Twilight series I read earlier this spring). As bedtime approached, I found it hard to resist it’s crisp pages. I just had to continue reading to see what would happen to my new friends. I couldn’t set it aside for mere mortal rest. I couldn’t bear to be parted from Wanderer, Melanie (yes, I loved her name), Jamie, Jeb, Jared and Ian. I’m loyal to a fault. I had to see this imaginative story through to completion, and so I did.

Around 4:30 AM this morning, I finished the book and found my imagination alive and my heart beating rapidly. Yep, I was wired. No way that sleep was going to come to me easily in the next hour and a half before my alarm clock would jolt me up. So I got out of bed, watched a bit of TV and then opted to get ready for work and just get my day started early sans sleep. YIKES!

So here I am. It is 7 AM, and I’ve already been here at work for an hour, and so I’m taking a mini break to type this and enjoy a granola bar. Life is good.

My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to stay awake until 9 PM this evening. I can do it. I believe. Well actually I believe in the copious amounts of Mountain Dew I am drinking at present. However, if my co-workers find me missing after lunch today, they should be advised to check for me under my desk, where I may be found fast asleep.