Halloween Hater

I hate Halloween! I absolutely, positively hate it! I didn’t always hate it. As a child I remember loving it. I think I began hating it after I had children of my own. I had more children than money and even buying candy to give out was a budget buster.


What was especially hard for me was the fact that I was trying to teach my children to be giving people. Halloween is so selfish! Give me, give me, give me and I got more than you did. I hated the bargaining that always took place over the next few days- “I’ll give you my Almond Joy for three of your blow pops.”

Thank goodness costumes weren’t as big of a deal as they are today. Zero money was spent on costumes at my house. My children usually made their own from the dress up basket we always had. At least the lucky ones did. Those who did not got stuck with my creations.

Considering that I am not a sewer and the fact that I waited till the last minute because I was hoping everyone would have chicken pox or something, I thought I did pretty darn good. Besides, I reasoned, they are not going to remember what they wore to a Halloween party when they were four. I forgot about pictures and an older brother with the memory of an elephant!

So one year I wrapped a couple of small boxes with gift wrap and bows. I cut a whole for head and arms. I slid my 18 month old and his 2 ½ yr. old brother into them. Then I taped a sign on each gift that read, “Good things come in small packages.” I thought it was cute!

Another year I was attending our church’s party without my significant other, (he had to work). That meant me, four children under the age of six and lots of SUGAR. I was frantic until I came up with the idea to go to the party as a pumpkin patch. We all put on various sizes of pumpkin lawn bags. We stuffed them with newspaper and we were all tied together with green twine. I thought it was brilliant!

My all time high (or low if you’re talking to my kids) was the year I messed up weekends. I realized the party was that night about 2 hours before we were supposed to be there. I tried fervently, to talk my children out of going but I had no luck. I was out voted.

I wracked my brain for something- anything to use for costumes. While doing chores in the barn I noticed a stack of empty bags that were waiting to be thrown away. They were large dog food bags. I took them in, cut arm and leg holes, stuck each of my children in one and stapled the top. And yes, we went to the party as dog food.

It might not have been so bad but for the first time ever there was a costume judging contest. The children circled the gym while everyone else watched. One family came as Robin Hood and his merry men. She said she made the costumes but I KNOW that she got the costumes from Hollywood. And then, right behind them came five bags of dog food. I wanted to die!

If my younger children ever complain about their costumes my older ones look at each other and their siblings with disgust. “At least Mom has never made you be a bag of dog food.”

I told you- I hate Halloween! That’s the view from my side of the street. What’s yours?

Yes, sir, that's my baby!! (part 1)

I think it’s a good time to tell Baby’s story. It began last April. My husband and I were headed back towards the house after doing our farm chores when we heard a strange noise about six feet to the side of us. We looked over to see a tiny gray fur ball moving sporadically and crying in a pathetic squeaky way. We noticed that the dogs were keeping a healthy distance from the creature as they tried to check it out. Our first thought was that it must be some type of rodent that one of the cats had hunted but not killed. We decided to check it out.


Boy, were we surprised to discover it was a tiny, newborn kitten! We couldn’t figure out where it had come from. Yes, we knew some of the barn cats had kittens but this kitten was far from any of the usual birthing places. It was, however, close to an irrigation ditch and we had just irrigated yesterday. This process takes place every two weeks. More than enough time we thought for a cat to think it was a good place to raise a family. We expected to find its siblings drowned bodies all over the place.

We scooped it up and hurried to the house to warm the tiny cold thing. I was not sure it was even going to make it. I found an eyedropper and began feeding it warm milk. It learned quickly to suck the dropper. After a few days we began to believe it would live so we obtained some kitty formula and a bottle.

It was a good thing I knew that kittens can not go to the bathroom until mom licks its potty place. I draw the line at some things and that was definitely one of them. I discovered that a warm rag or baby wipe worked just as well. I was very concerned about its aloneness and how that might affect its development so I dug up a fluffy fleece hat to use as a baby carrier. It went EVERYWHERE with me for at least six weeks. I also carried a small “diaper” bag with wipes, formula, bottle and a spare hat.

At night it slept in its hat, in our bed, right between us. We finally figured out that it was a she and we named her Baby. There are several reasons for that name. Some are rather obvious but the main reason is that a few weeks before we found her, I had seen the cutest new baby at the store, I had turned to my husband and remarked, “Oh, I wish we had a baby.” About a week after she showed up, he had walked in to see me on the floor “changing her diapers”. He said, “Well, guess God heard you, you’ve got your baby now.” I sure did.

A few weeks after we adopted her we figured out where she came from. Her mother had given birth in a bird’s nest, high above the very spot we found her at. She had to have fallen out. It was a miracle she wasn’t killed!

So Baby became part of our life- a very big part! It has been incredibly fascinating to watch a kitten who can’t decide if she is a bird, a dog, a cat or a human grow up. But more about that in part two. What we do know is life with her will never be dull. And that’s a good thing. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Illegal Immigrant Problem

My little town has an incredibly beautiful marina park and campground on the Columbia River. It is truly an oasis in the desert. Over the years it has become a favorite with the Canadian geese. They stop here during their migration. Many have chosen to stay. At first, this was exciting, it was so cool to walk there during the winter and watch the flock. Some even chose to stay year round. In spring we’d walk around looking at the families showing off their new additions.


Slowly, the numbers grew. The entire park was filled with these loud, noisy, big birds. Even worse, it became impossible to walk anywhere due to big yucky goose poop. The beach was covered with birds and their droppings. No one could swim because the geese felt it was their territory. In short, it became a nightmare for people and geese.

A year ago, the town decided it had to take action and measures were taken to reduce the number of birds. The other day I went for a walk along the river side and appreciated the reclaiming that had taken place. A small flock was there, enjoyable to watch, but the best part was being able to walk around the poop and not through it.

We have the same problem with Hispanic immigrants, most of who are illegal. In the beginning it wasn’t much of a problem. They added color and flavor to the area. We were willing to offer help and programs. We welcomed them.

But they kept coming…….and the damage on the community has been great. Before I go on, please understand that I am not prejudiced. But I am pragmatic and I’d like to share the results of “an open door” policy.

Our classrooms are ninety percent Hispanic. This doesn’t matter in the higher grades but in the K-3 classes it matters very much. These children start school not knowing any English. The teachers have to spend most of their time helping them to understand what is going on. The English speaking children get very little. I have known parents who were unable to get their developmentally disabled children into summer school because it had been filled with the immigrant children.

The immigrants believe that working the system and getting everything you are “entitled” to is the correct way of life. They lie to get food stamps and health care. Since most of the workers are working under the table there is nothing to prove that they indeed have an income. So they are treated as non-income families and able to access all the “helping” programs out there.

When they do have the “correct” paperwork it has been bought and usually belongs to someone else. I dealt with this a lot as an apartment manager. Having denied one young man because of false documentation, he asked (through an interpreter) if he could try again with another social security card. I explained the best I could about false ID’s when suddenly the interpreter’s eyes grew big and she gasped, “Are you talking about identity theft?” Yes, that’s exactly what it is.

He tried again anyway. This time the number belonged to a 65 year old woman in Ohio. I had to turn him in and he was deported. But he was not a bad young man. Most of them are not bad. I’m not sure that they even know that these things are illegal. It’s all part of the lifestyle. They think everyone does it this way because in their world everyone does.

It sucks for them too. I took a farm worker to the hospital when he almost cut his thumb off at work. His employer paid under the table. It was less than minimum wage, no benefits and you were screwed if you were hurt on the job. The boss wouldn’t even give him a ride. Because we were neighbors and had become friendly, his frantic wife ran over to beg for help. I was furious at the “boss man”.

Just like the geese, this situation is out of control. And I haven’t said a word about the gang and drug activity that has invaded our peaceful town of less than 5000 residents. Not ALL Hispanics belong to a gang but let me tell you, they pay huge consequences if they don’t. A fourteen year old boy was shot and killed in his front yard a few years back because he didn’t want any part of gang life. Who’s going to say no after that?

Plans need to be made and carried out that will change all this. Making employers accountable if they hire illegals is a great start. I think it’s in the best interest of everyone involved. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Road Less Traveled

My husband and I have chosen to live without regular television for quite some time now. We have for years limited our TV to DVD’s but the arrival of Netflix opened a whole new vista for us. We could watch some of the TV shows we were interested in whenever we wanted and without commercials. We could recapture old memories by watching the series of years long past as well as keeping up with newer ones.


There is a catch- when you can watch a whole season one episode after another without having to wait the customary week it can take some real discipline to turn it off. When we were introduced to the series “24”, we missed a lot of sleep!

I have also found that unlike the variety you are naturally exposed to on regular television, it was more likely that I found myself watching shows to match my moods. I spent one dark dreary winter watching dark dreary shows. I watched a number of seasons of Intervention and Hoarders. Finding myself fascinated with the human psyche I delved even deeper.

I turned to Deadly Women, Wicked Attraction, Real Interrogations and a number of other true life crime series. I started putting the patterns together as I watched the destruction of human beings. I found myself more interested in the perpetrators than the victims. I felt that the question I had always asked, “How did they get that way?” was being answered as I pieced puzzle pieces together.

The formula seems to be the same- horrific childhoods + neglected teens = twisted adults. Deeply hurt children turn to drugs and alcohol to ease the pain. They need more and more to get the same high. They turn to petty crimes to support their habit. They fall deeper and deeper into the abyss until nothing is off limits anymore.

Or the formula leads them to sex as their drug. As with other drugs, they need more and more to get their “fix”. The acts become more and more depraved until torture and murder is all that excites them.
There is another formula- violence begets violence, unresolved anger begets rage and another generation of abusers up the ante. It spills out and spreads like a virus.

But there is something I know that few of the shows talked about. I know that regardless of the formula of our lives, we still had choices to make and it was those choices that determined the road we took. Are these choices harder for those who have never known another way? Absolutely yes!!! But is it impossible? Were those choices removed from us because of the traumas in our lives? I say NO.

I say no because I have read the life stories of people who managed to change the formulas they were stuck in. I say no because of the people caught in war torn countries all over the world and throughout time that held on to their humanity and refused to be caught by the formulas. I say no because of the numbers of people I have met personally, through media and in the pages of books who were raised in homes and circumstances that make our skins crawl and yet, they refused to stay stuck in the pattern.

I say no because as I watched these shows I saw myself. I realized that at different times in my life I was on the edge of that abyss and ready to become a statistic. I say no because my life followed the formulas but I chose to break them. I came to the understanding that truly but for the grace of God I could have ended up like anyone I was watching. I want others to know that we do not have to be defined by the things that have happened to us. We can be more than that. Take the road less traveled. The views are spectacular!That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Nothing Else Matters

As my regular readers know, my husband is not very romantic. At least he’s not on the outside. I’m beginning to really suspect that down deep is very different. Not too long ago, he did an amazingly romantic, emotionally supportive act. He gave me a love song!


There seems to be a wide spread belief that all truckers love country music. Not so. In today’s world, truckers are as diverse as the rest of the population. And their tastes in music reflect that. My husband’s music of choice is heavy metal. He listens to bands that I had never heard of before so when he tried to tell me about a Metallica song he really liked, I was no help.

Regular readers also know that contact between both of our families is very limited. This has been more difficult for me this past year. My sweet husband has developed the habit of pulling me close and whispering in my ear, “It’s just you and me, baby, just you and me.”

He also started trying to tell me about this song….he may listen to music but he really has a hard time remembering much about it. He does remember how it made him feel so he kept trying to explain about “our song” as he called it. He told me that this song described perfectly how he felt about us.

He couldn’t even remember the song’s title so looking it up was difficult. But one day, I was looking up the lyrics to another song (for something I was writing) when he asked me if I could find Metallica for him. We did and presented with a long list of titles and videos, he found it. We watched the video (several times) and printed the words. He presented the printout to me with a shy little grin, (I swear he looked like a fourteen year old boy) and said, “It’s just you and me, baby, just you and me” and left for work.

Here is MY love song- I’m sharing it for all you out there who find yourselves in similar situations- it is called “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica.

“So close no matter how far, couldn’t be much more from the heart, forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters. Never opened myself up this way, life is ours, we live it our way, all these words I don’t just say and nothing else matters. Trust I seek and find in you, every day for us something new, open mind for a different view and nothing else matters

Never cared for what they say, never cared for games they play, never cared for what they do, never cared for what they know and I know……….nothing else matters.”

He’s a keeper!!! And nothing else matters! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Love your enemies. Really????

Jesus taught us, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good for them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Yeah right! Really? In today’s world? You’ve got to be kidding!


We watch TV shows and movies that glorify revenge and getting even. We watch realty shows that depict going behind one’s back as a much to be desired skill. We even listen to music (in whatever genre you prefer) in which that time honored tradition of not letting “them” get away with it is praised.

We’ve coined new phrases and words to attack and humiliate. We’ve raised old hand signals (pun intended) to new heights of worldwide acceptance. Making someone pay for what they’ve done has become an international pastime. Jesus didn’t live in today’s world so He really didn’t know what it was going to be like. If we turn the other cheek today, we are sure to have them both slapped, or much worse! Am I right?

Actually, I am very wrong. Over the past few years I have taken this counsel very much to heart. I have attempted to live it as closely as a mere human can. Finding myself with enemies who hate and despitefully use me, it became a survival tactic. I had to find my “peace amidst the storm” and living this scripture has done exactly that.

I have been trying to live this principle with those near and not so dear to me, namely exes and their spouses. My ex and his wife despise me and everything I stand for. She and I couldn’t be farther apart when it comes to core values. She fought tooth and nail to get my children away from the woman that would ruin their lives- me. In many ways, she still feels that way since our parenting skills and views on the world are so dissimilar.

But I try to love her, I pray daily for her, and I back her up with the children. I have tried to treat her like a friend. It’s been a long road but recently, payoff. There was a sister melt down at their house. No parents were home. I was the only one that could be reached, so I tried my best to deal with the situation over the phone. She returned, grabbed the phone and proceeded to rip me a new one. How dare I interfere with things happening at her house, etc. I listened as calmly as I could. I stated what had happened when she finally took a breath and tried to let her know that I was on her side in this situation. Not only did she eventually calm down, she apologized twice for blowing up and felt ready to deal when she got off the phone. This was HUGE!! And I believe a direct effect of my loving my enemy and doing good to those who despitefully use you. Thank you, Jesus.

Is it easy? No!!! It has taken years to get to this place. We have to overcome our “natural” selves. It is natural to want to lash out or fight back when we feel attacked. If we can get past that, however, there is an indescribable sweetness that accompanies peaceful thoughts and actions. And I have learned once more that it is possible to love someone you may not really like.

No, it is definitely not easy but ask me if it’s worth it and I’ll answer with a big “hell, yeah”! Oops, maybe I’d better start working on my language next. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Suicide- Today's Epidemic

I am suicidal. I’m writing this blog in hopes that some will gain a better understanding of the suicidal mind. The rate of suicides is higher than ever before especially among those under eighteen. It is an act that leaves so many asking why or what could I have done? I hope that sharing my experiences might lift those who suffer whether as a victim or as one left holding the pieces.


I am not actively suicidal. I am not planning it or writing my farewell notes or thinking about it constantly. I am under a doctor’s care and take daily medication to fend off depression. You could say I’m on the wagon. A little known fact about suicide is that once you have actually let the idea in long enough to seriously plan for it, you have opened a door that you may never be able to close. Just as a recovering alcoholic or drug addict must always fight to stay sober especially during the dark, difficult days so will suicide remain open as a solution or way out of whatever it is overwhelming you at the time.

I have learned to be aware of the signs that I might be heading for the sinkhole. I have learned to keep my life as balanced as possible. I have employed certain coping techniques that keep me safe. But mostly I have learned to ask for help. I have tried to keep safe people around me and to reach out to them when I need to.

This is huge because for a long time I felt (as many others do) that I was being weak when I felt this way. I shouldn’t burden others with my problems. I was the strong caretaker person- I didn’t need help…I just had to shake it off….stop being so pathetic……positive thinking would help……… There are so many reasons we don’t ask for help when we need it. It takes real strength to admit you need help and to seek it.

It is more than emotional pain that puts us in that dark place. It is the soul crushing sense of aloneness that takes most of us over the edge. I have studied a variety of theories. I have talked to professionals, families and the suicidal themselves. My conclusion is that we have broken love receivers. We experience our loving feelings for others but we are unable to feel their love for us.

When someone tells us they love us, we feel nothing. Our minds can take it in and try to tell us they mean it but our hearts feels nothing. We don’t know what the feeling of being loved is. That feeling is non existent for us. And so we always feel alone and isolated within ourselves, no matter how hard others are sending the love signals because our receivers are just not receiving them.

If you have times of despair and think the world would be better of without you or you are so tired of hurting that making it just stop is all you can think about, tell someone. It’s okay to say “I hurt, can you help me?” And please believe me when I say it will get better if you give it time. I promise you that!

If someone you know is reaching out- reach back- please don’t judge- you may never truly understand- you don’t have to. You only need to know that these feelings are very real to the person sharing them. And sometimes whatever you do it will not be enough to stop them. It’s not your fault!

Suicide is today’s epidemic- we are only as strong as the weakest among us. Can’t we stop the needless tragedy of so many lost lives? That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Bargaining with God

A good friend of mine is preparing her home and life for a teenage grandson to join. His dad is deploying to Afghanistan and the grandson wants to live with his grandparents during this time. He wants it very, very much! He has wanted it so much over the past year that he has insisted that his grandmother plead with God to set it up for them. He has begged God, his father and his grandparents. He has uttered those words so familiar to many of us-“If you let me do this, (God, Dad or Grandma), I’ll do anything you want me to!! I promise!!”


And so his wish was granted. The miracle he thought would never happen did. Oh, what a happy boy! He is coming as soon as school lets out. BUT as the months have passed and he has become accustomed to his “miracle”, he has begun the “bargaining” stage. “Grandma, I’ll pick up the dog poop outside but I won’t do the catbox.” “Grandma, I’ll mow the lawn and use the weed eater but I won’t pull weeds, I hate that.” We can only guess at his “bargains” with God.

As she shared this story with me, we both chuckled and remembered some of our childhood “bargains” with parents and God. On the way home, however, I thought of our adult “bargains”. We may not express them in the same way but we have all had things in our lives that we have thought “if only this would happen, I’ll be so happy.”

We have ALL had prayers answered and miracles take place even if we don’t recognize them as such. Before the particular event takes place, it seems so unattainable, so marvelous an occurrence that we think it can never happen. But then it does. At the moment, it is mind blowing and awesome. As time goes by, it is less and less so. We become accustomed to it. It is part of our everyday and as such loses some of its “miracle” shine.

And at that point, we forget our promises back when we wanted it so much. We begin to “bargain” or much more likely in our today’s world- justify. That raise wasn’t because I asked for it- it was just time for it. The new job or baby or home or friend or living room set or the list of things we want and don’t think we can get is endless. The child or husband or father or sister that overcame that illness or personal crisis just did so. Begging on their behalf had nothing to do with it.

We miss so much when we forget from whence our blessings flow. We miss so much when we don’t see the day to day “miracles” in our lives. We miss the joy of knowing we are loved and cared about. We lose sight of that which brings so much happiness to our lives- gratitude. Be thankful for today and all that it brings- today is a miracle that you will never experience again. Enjoy every moment -even poop duty.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

What is your self-worth based on?

I’ve been helping a woman with her fall cleaning. She works full time and runs her husband’s business. It’s harvest and she is working overtime in both jobs. And yet she feels the need to apologize for needing help and for the fact that her house is dirty. The other day she told me that she got up early just to do the dishes before I came over. She asked, “Why do I do that?”


I replied, “You are a woman. Part of you thinks that your self- worth is all about how you keep your house- you probably think I will judge the type of person you are by how clean or dirty your home is.” She thought about it for a few minutes and decided I was right. This began an interesting conversation about the ways we judge our own self-worth.

I realized as we talked that most of the things we base our self worth on are so transitional. Our looks, size, positions, jobs, families, complexions, etc. are all things that change throughout life. Why do we base who we are on such fluid, uncontrollable things?

Some base their identity on things that have happened to them whether these events have been good or bad. We are more than the things that have been done to us. We are more than the awards that have been given to us. We stop our development if this is what we use to define ourselves.

Our roles in life will all change as life progresses. We are more than spouse, parent or child. We are more than boss, employee, manager, clerk, or any other jobs we might hold.

It is a guarantee in life that we will not always be young. Growing old is inevitable no matter how much plastic surgery you have. If your sense of worth and beauty are based in youth, what will happen when time marches on?

So many people today are hurting deeply because they don’t know who they are beyond these worldly labels and limits. When these are stripped from them by circumstances beyond their control, they are lost and soul naked. It is vulnerability beyond description.

Who are we……….? We are children of a loving Father in Heaven who knows each one of us and cherishes each one of us. This is often beyond our human understanding but ask any mother about a child she has not seen for years and you will see this kind of love in action. Talk to a parent about a wayward child and you will see this kind of love in action. If we as mere humans can love this much, how much more can God?

He has assured us that the hairs of our head are numbered. He tells us that the each sparrow is known and we are of more value than many sparrows. With divinity as our parentage, are we not so much more than whatever limitations the world may put upon us?

Don’t listen to the voices around you that tell you what you cannot do. Don’t listen to the voices around you that tell you what you cannot be. Instead, listen to the voice inside of you that says you can be or do anything good that you want to. You are a child of God and as such have the rights to all things good. It’s up to you to claim them.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Real life survivor- me

I’m going to share with you a real life survivor story. It’s mine. I share it with much reluctance. I am in hopes that readers will see a survivor not a victim. I am also laying a foundation for some future blogs that will have more meaning if this story is known.


My birth father left the picture before I turned a year old. I have never met him. I was being raised as an only child by a single mom back in the sixties when single parents and only children were still a rarity. When I was about 8, a single dad with two daughters moved into our neighborhood. I thought it was a dream come true when our parents were married, instant family to a heart hungry little girl. It was more like a nightmare.

Our parents drank…a lot and fought….a lot. My stepfather turned out to be a predator of the worst kind. No little girl escaped his clutch, his own daughters, me, cousins, friends, all were fair game to him. This continued for years.

I started drinking at the age of 11. Easy to do when you have alcoholic parents, they never missed it. I was an alcoholic myself by age 16. My sisters had both been kicked out of the family by then but a younger brother and sister had been born.

I experimented with some drugs. It was the 70’s after all but mostly I drank as much and as often as I could. Those years weren’t pretty. I left home two days after I graduated and tried to build a life but my addiction kept sucking me in until I had my first child and joined the church.

I have been married four times. My first husband died during our ninth year together. I left my second (abusive) husband after 18 years. My third was a rebound that lasted about 9 months and my fourth marriage looks like it just might be forever.

I have given birth to 9 living children. I had two stillbirths and two miscarriages. I have contact with only three of those children, (their choice not mine). I haven’t seen or talked to some of my sons for over six years. I have grandchildren I will probably never see or know.

I gave up custody of my youngest children to end a destructive court battle. I have my two youngest daughters for four days a month. They live in a home with a very different belief system than mine.

I have been diagnosed with depression and post traumatic stress disorder. Go figure, right? Also, I’ve been told that I have borderline personality disorder although I’m told that I keep it under control pretty well.

I have thyroid problems as well as fibromyalgia. I have bad dreams. So between the fibro and PTSD, sleep isn’t something I get much of. Again, I’m just sharing this to lay the foundation for some future blogs. As I share some of my life’s lessons, I want you to know that I have indeed been there, done that.

And on top of all of this I want to say that it’s all good! Life is good! It’s what we make of it that counts. Each day is a new one with no mistakes in it yet…what will you do with yours? Me? I’m going out to enjoy the October sky. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Budgets- yours, mine and ours

Living within our means seems to be a lost skill whether it’s newlyweds just starting out, elderly trying to live on fixed incomes, a large family, a college student or a government. Simply put, it is spending less than you take in. Businesses know that if they fail to follow this precept they will fail –period.


To budget means to set aside monies for assigned purposes. There are many good books written to help but I am going to outline the easiest way I’ve ever found. All the things that would take your money can be put into one of three categories- needs, wants, and wishes.

A person, family or government would be wise to make sure that needs are filled first. If there is still money in the till, a few wants might be fulfilled. If you persevere, there may come a time when some wishes can be filled.

In the crazy mixed up world of today, many are filling wants and wishes first, leaving no money left for needs. This creates financial crisis. To get back on our feet whether as individuals or governments, we must stop putting the cart before the horse. We must forsake our wants and wishes. We must focus on our needs until the time comes that they are all being met easily and then, only then, start working on some wants.

Of course, this plan depends on having the ability to truly be able to tell the difference between needs, wants and wishes. Here’s an example- I’m fat and need to get in shape, I wish I could hire a personal trainer, I want to join a gym, I can’t afford either one so I filled my need with a couple of workout DVD’s and a pair of walking shoes.

Here’s another- I have an old washer/ dryer set. They work but I’d really like a more updated set. I’d LOVE to get one of the fancy front loader sets that do everything but the dishes. I don’t need a new washer /dryer set right now. I just want one. If the ones I have stop working, my want will have jumped to the need spot but unless I’m better off when that happens, I won’t get my wish of the fancy front loader. I’ll get the best I can for what money I have at the time. Are you following me?

So despite all the jokes and memes that popped up after the presidential debate pitting Mitt Romney against Big Bird, I knew exactly what he meant when he said he would stop federal funding for PBS. In our overtaxed budget (pun intended) we must cut out our wants and wishes until such a time that the needs are all being filled.

He was saying that in a stressed financial situation, government funding of PBS and things like it must go. He’s right! I was pleased to hear someone who wasn’t afraid to say the hard stuff. Too many make promises they can’t keep because that’s what the people want to hear.

By the way, he didn’t say he was going to get rid of PBS, he said that he would cut government funding. It will still continue thanks to grants, corporations and viewers like you. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

"I see faces..."

I love being married for many reasons and the following conversation is one of them. My husband comes out of the bathroom. He is still zipping up his pants when he gets to my desk. “Come here, I have something to show you” he says.


Me: “You usually say that when you are unzipping your pants.”

Him: “No, really, I have something to show you.” He heads back towards the bedroom. I’m still a little suspicious of his motive when he says, “I don’t know if I should show you this. You’ll think I’m crazy.” I assure him that boat already sailed. He turns to me very seriously and says, “I see faces in linoleum.”

I burst out laughing, “You what?!”

Again, in all seriousness, he says, “I see faces in linoleum. I’ll show you.” We enter our bathroom where he proceeds to show me several different “face” patterns. “But this one is the most obvious…anyone could see that!”

I look at it a number of ways and then employ a technique honed by work with numerous children. “Oh, yes”, I say, “Tell me exactly what you see.”

He outlines the shape of a head with eyes, nose, and mouth. I still can’t see it. He shows me where the face has been repeated in the floor pattern. Okay, this is going to take all the tact of a very loving wife. I turn to face him….put my hands on his shoulders……look deep into his eyes………..and say, “Buddy, you spend too much time on the toilet. Get a book!”

After all, isn’t that wives are for? And that’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Sh..t Happens

Just over three years ago I did the unthinkable. I gave up custody of my children. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. We had been going through an ugly, prolonged custody battle that was decimating what little was left of my family. My youngest children were being torn apart. I felt as if we were cutting the babies in half. There was no sign of it ending anytime soon. I did the only thing I could. I gave up and stopped it.


I will not attempt to describe the pain that living with such a choice has brought. I will tell you that eventually I learned to breathe again although there are still times I forget. It is said that time heals all wounds. Not so. A broken heart, empty arms and lost moments last forever.

This past Sunday, a very dear friend lost her eldest son unexpectedly and tragically. Once again I was reminded of how quickly life can change. And of how deeply a mother’s heart can be cut to pieces.

But would we have it any other way? And can it truly be any other way? If we open ourselves to love deeply, we are also opening ourselves to the possibility of great pain. Shakespeare said, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I agreed with this when I was twelve. I still do even after having been put to the test.

Another much beloved passage comes from Kahlil Gibran’s, “The Prophet”. It is an excerpt from the section entitled, On Joy and Sorrow – “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain…………….When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful, look again into your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”

It is almost impossible to live past forty and not have had some life changing loss. It is said that which does not kill us makes us stronger. This is true only if you let it be. Loss can help our hearts and souls grow larger if we allow it to. We can ride out the wave of pain, reaching out to others for love and support. We can turn to God and ask for His strong arms to carry us.

Or we can became small, hard, and bitter. We can close ourselves off to both our fellowmen and God. This course leads to hate and revenge rather than compassion and understanding. Sh*t happens. What we do about it is up to us. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

DIY

My husband loves cake. It is his favorite dessert. My daughters love to bake his cakes for him. They have made him many. Recently we decided to save the expense of mixes and bake them from scratch. We also thought that homemade ones would be healthier since we use fresh wheat flour.


My daughter, Sarah, was okay with this. She made her first ever “cookbook” cake a few weeks ago. There was no problem until she came running outside in a big panic because she couldn’t find any frosting in the pantry. I told her we would make some. Her eyes grew big with wonder- “you mean we can MAKE frosting?’’ she asked. “COOL!”

At the beginning of the summer, I was at a beauty supply store buying my favorite nail polish. A small conversation with the twenty-something sales clerk surprised me. She asked where I went to get my pedicures. When I answered my living room couch she was shocked. Apparently, she had never heard of anyone doing their nails themselves!

So here is a small list of things that many of us still do ourselves at home: pedicures, manicures, haircuts ( ours, children’s and friends), cookies, fried chicken, salads, cinnamon rolls, biscuits, carpet shampooing, learning activities with our pre- school aged children, some of us make candles, mittens, hats, scarves, quilts and other craft type things, we make our own gifts, mixes, french fries, donuts, bread, soup, gravy, pies, puddings, jello, candy, popcorn with a number of flavors (and not in the microwave),pancakes, oatmeal, pretzels, decorating, painting…..the list is endless. The truth is that almost anything you buy or have others do can be made or done by you.

Why do we still do these things at home? The quality is superior as are the health benefits- no additives, we know exactly what has been put in and we can substitute healthier ingredients anytime we want. It is also much cheaper to do it ourselves. But I think the most important reason for me is we make memories that are lasting……the smell of bread rising, the tastes of warm cookies, the sight of a child covered in flour holding up a grubby wad of dough filled with pride, the giggles you share with daughters as you do each other nails. But most of all, the time that doing these things ourselves takes gives us precious moments for sharing thoughts and feelings with each other. My best times with family members have come during “making” moments.

And of course, the best perk of all is making your own fun! It comes in all shapes and sizes but is best when it is homemade!

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?