Best Days

I had a best day yesterday. A best day is a time when you get to do all the things you like to do, in an easy-going manner without having to rush. I did have to rush a little bit at the evening part of the day because I had spent so much time relaxing.

These days, sleep is very valuable, so it was awesome to have gone to bed at 1 am to get up at 8 am to make a breakfast for my daughter, then to go back to bed about and hour later and stay there another couple of hours, checking email and Facebook on my phone, reading the excellent free book I received from dearreader.com - Movement of Stars by Amy Brill, and getting more sleep. I then got up to send my youngest off with her father to run errands, leaving me with an empty, silent house. After getting some laundry going and the kitchen clean, I went outside to enjoy the beautiful, sunny yet cool early afternoon to pull weeds in the front yard. I came inside to prepare the remainder of a batch of cookies that I had baked half of the day before, filling the house with the warm smell of freshly baked cookies.

All that activity had me tired again, so I proceeded back to my bedroom to spend a little more time with Movement of Stars, set in 1845 and covering a young Quaker woman's pursuit of astronomy, with a twist. Great book, more than halfway through now. After this restful day, it was time for me to get ready to go out to a rodeo party at the beautiful Reserve on Lake Travis. My dilemma was choosing what to wear. An original plan to wear a fun dress with boots was scrapped to wear jeans or pants instead because of the unusually cold April weather. The black leather pants and red boots won, along with the blingy top and jewelry. We enjoyed awesome food, Tito's vodka and fellowship with friends and new friends, and afterward shut down the band with our Spicewood friends. I love to dance too! We arrived home and got to visit with our darling teenage daughters to round out the night. Reading, resting, baking and dancing, plus a whole lot of extras made April 20, 2013, a best day.

By the way, today is also a best day because it is my father, Carroll Wayne Merlick's birthday. I loved his mother very much and feel very fortunate that she and my grandfather had him. He was an only child, raised with a strict hand but fed awesome food that I learned to love as well, and given the tools to become a successful adult. He is a loving, dear man that has high expectations for me and everyone else in my family. Happy Birthday Daddy - I love you!

Grocery Stories

We are greeted as we enter a grocery store with a friendly voice behind the quick check out stand by the door. A stocker loads huge crates of bananas, potatoes and grapefruit to the produce display table tables with a stoic posture. A grumpy-faced woman bemoans the inventory in the health and beauty section, while her manager cheers her on, taking up the slack on the work that she avoids. A shy-looking girl is suddenly chatty when asked where to find dental floss.

Then, there are the customers in the grocery. An older woman frets about how items have moved from where they used to be, while another grumbles about the sheer volume of choices in picking out a shampoo. A young mother admonishes her noisy child as a stooped over man brags to a vendor about the benefits of honey and cinnamon.

When we enter the grocery store, most likely we do not know 95% of the people in there, unless it is a small store in a small town. Regardless of whether we know the checker, the deli server or the fish market employee, how well do we really know them? Did the cute produce guy dye his hair red and have his ears and nose pierced to irritate his parents, or is he just wanting to stand out? Is the very thin, unusual-looking housekeeping woman really in pain physically or is she benefiting from the grocery's health plan to obtain strong medication and time off?

The questions about the screaming child and his household life to the wildly-dressed young adults to the perfectly coiffed older shoppers could overwhelm me as I do my 10 hours of weekly work in four such stores in small town Texas. But I've decided to pursue these stories and tell stories of my own, some from the mouths of those employees and customers, and some fictionalized from the small amount of data I've collected in talking to them.

For me, it's a larger story worth pursuing, to give some insight to the people that arrange, prepare and sell us the food and other consumable items that we need to keep us fed, clean and happy. Stay tuned for more posts.

Special Birthday

Dear Mom -

After many attempts today, this special day, to write you a note of love on your birthday, I am finally getting to it. It's a tough proposition to write down something that I feel so strongly in my heart. Do I make a list? Do I write a poem or a haiku? Do I describe all the incredible things you do for me and for others? Do I draw a pretty picture - but of what would it be? So I just decided to write you a love letter of sorts, and also a thank you note.

You, Judy Wickham, are an incredible woman. Coming from a solid, Christian home life to be married and have five children at a young age, then to raise all of us to be energetic, happy adults, producing 12 successful, happy grandchildren (ages 2-25), is an accomplishment in itself. That family love has been so valuable in both my life and that my brothers and sisters and our children, of your sisters and brother, your cousins, your in-laws, and those family members who have passed. The  meals, the attendance in times of sickness, the caring for our children, the lovely birthday and holiday parties you throw, and let's not forget all the dear and thoughtful gifts. And of course there are just the considerate things that you share and do, including sending sweet thank you notes, calling to check in, giving us vegetables from your garden and taking us to lunch. I can hear it in your voice and feel it in your warm hugs that you love me.

But your arms reach further, to the people in need in your church, your community, and the world. Your Bible study leadership to steer women to better understand the word of God, your monthly trips downtown to feed the homeless, the annual events for which you serve joyfully for your small Texas town, and the mission trips into the world all speak of yours and God's love for others beyond your family. People in your circle of influence through your profession as a Realtor, as a neighbor, a Republican woman, a Christian member of a church and a friend, know you and speak well of you. Thank you for your extensive consideration me and of others, for teaching me how to love and for just being you.

I could write for hours, but alas, the weekend laundry - with school uniforms and PE outfits, jeans and t-shirts are calling, as are the daily lunches and the prep of the morning coffee. Besides that, I need my sleep if I am to ever be the wonderful mother and friend that you are to me. I love you mom - Happy Birthday!

All Night Long

Last night, after I tucked in my two teenagers at 11 pm, I thought it would be an interesting experiment to stay up all night long and watch one or the other as they slept, not thinking that it would ever come to pass. As it so happened, I  got my inclination, although my desire to see one of them sleeping was not to be so.

After I went to bed, tossed and turned for a half hour or so, and then fell asleep, I was awoken at 12:55 am by my oldest. "Mom, the hives are not going away, and I'm really itchy," she said. We experienced this in the fall when for no apparent reason, Rachel started with hives on her back, then to her chest, arms and legs, with her feeling very ill. We went to the ER after presuming correctly that it was an allergic reaction to an antibiotic she was taking. She received the adrenaline, hive-stopping benadryl-type drug (she's allergic to antihistamines), 60 mg of Prednisone, and we were on our way. Departure time to the ER was 1 am, and we got home at about 4 am.

This time though, there was no apparent reason for the hives. She began to see them soon after dinner, around 8 pm, uncomfortable but not unbearable, on her back. By the time she woke me, they had spread to her chest and stomach. I gave her a 10mg dose of Prednisone that was remaining from the past time, put cool compresses on her back and stomach. By 2 am, they were on her neck, so I kept up with the compresses, braided her hair and recited scripture. By 3 am, they had spread to her arms and legs, and her lip was beginning to swell. This is when I could no longer tolerate my baby in such discomfort, and I looked online to see what my next step might be with her lip swelling. Emergency medical attention is what webmd, mayo clinic and other online sites told me to do, as it may progress to anaphalactic shock, in which the remainder of the mouth and the throat also swells and can stop breathing. The steroids would take at least 2 hours to have an effect and had not made a difference, especially she had been given such a small dosage.

We woke Kevin and told him our plan, and that he would need to take the youngest to middle school that morning whether we were home or not. Departure time was 3:11 am. We arrived seconds before a car pulled up and went inside the entrance of St. David's ER in Bee Cave (we parked in the nearest spot) and while waiting behind the man in the lobby, were shuffled into a room. I noted that we were not with him, with the nurse showing some confusion, but she led Rachel into a room and asked me to wait at the desk to receive sign-in paperwork. I soon joined my daughter in the room where I entered just as the nurse was asking her, "do you smoke? drink alcohol? do drugs?" with her back to me. Rachel rather smugly said "no" to all of the questions as she was facing me. She was given a shot of adrenaline in the arm (ow - we both almost cried but started laughing to take away the fear and pain), some benadryl-replacement and 40 mg of Prednisone. We were able to leave just before 5 am.

The rest of the story is that because Rachel had not eaten anything unusual or different that day and had taken no drugs either, the very kind, former army doctor felt that it could possibly be a reaction to something that blew in with the cold front that came in that afternoon. He said that the lip swelling is a new reaction and that she might be better off if she were to be prepared next time and have an epi-pin on hand to administer if she started reacting in this way again. The possibility of anaphalactic shock exists if it progresses one step more each time. The tough part is that it costs over $300, and only lasts a year. We will pray that she doesn't have another reaction such as what occurred last night, but what if? An ER visit is much more expensive.

Rachel was so sweet and calm throughout the entire ordeal, except for the shot, which helped calm me. I count my blessings that my children are so undemanding for attention and care (maybe because they get plenty), and that they do appreciate it when we provide for them.

Tonight, I hope to go to bed by 10 pm, since I'm running on a little over 4 hours of sleep now. And, the next time I even THINK about staying up all night, I'll immediately dismiss it as being frivolous!

The Value of Three

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."
"Third time's a charm."
"After you hear it three times, that's when you're going to remember it."

I've been pondering the number three a lot lately, because it seems that many things have been showing up in threes and have been speaking to me. Maybe it's because my mind has been freer than usual lately with less writing projects and I'm able to pay attention more. Possibly, God is speaking to me and I'm listening.

     The first set of three refer to Christian faith and the words describing God in the Bible. The Father is the creator of the universe and of Jesus, who is the Son, and the Holy Ghost is who remains with us at all times - He is the presence of God on earth. I can parallel this in my Christian life as attending weekly church service as one, Bible study as two, and daily prayer and conversations with God is three. One topic from the Bible was repeated to me - Jeremiah 29:11 was mentioned in conversation, heard at church and then referenced to in my own reading. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Another is the Book of James, with instructions for life, that I found in Bible study that my mother also completed (so we discussed it several times), addressed by our pastor at church and I pursued it in my need for wisdom in family life.

     The second reference to threes would be counting on luck and is an agnostic or atheist view, although I am sure there are plenty of us Christians who cross our fingers for good luck, say "good luck" to friends, family and teams before a competition. God has a plan for each of us (see Jer. 29:11) and while we may think that it is luck that helped us get that primo parking place, win in the drawing at the marketing party we attended or finish that race in the top 10 in our category, there is a bigger picture of God's hand in the success.
 
   Three times to remember is a marketing reference. I try to emphasize to my marketing clients to repeat their message on Facebook, with a news release or with a blog and with signage and direct mail so that clients will recognize their name when they have a need for their business (real estate, interior decorating, church, school). Why do you think you see advertisements for McDonald's, Coke, Pepsi and Frito-Lay multiple times on the TV during a single program, as well as receiving flyers in the mail and billboards? The repetition is what draws you in to buy that new cracker or cookie from Nabisco, or to look at that cool car from Toyota. The less apparent marketing of a service business makes it more challenging to promote than consumer goods, and that is where word of mouth and personal reference is valuable, and can be included in the value of three times heard will make an impact.

In closing, I'll just state that this blog will not be repeated two more times. :-)

Writing and Other Priorities

Becoming the next Barbara Kinsolver, JK Rowling or Julia Childs is not my goal. I do want to be a good writer that can possibly benefit financially from my writing, or at least influence others to help them to set goals, enjoy the benefits of cooking and baking and maybe to live a good life. The issue is not the idea factory, for I am constantly writing blogs in my head. The issue is making time to sit down and write!

Maybe because I was tied to the computer writing nearly 100 articles about wheel chocks, or possibly the time I was glued to my chair over three days writing 40 articles about wicker furniture that I don’t like to prioritize my time here. It could also be the age of my computer, one put together at the turn of the century (wow!) and reconfigured internally probably five years ago. The distractions of family life are the third obstruction to sitting down and writing. Either a sweet child of mine or my dear husband is calling my name in need of a talk, a lunch made or a ride somewhere, or something on the stove, in the washing machine or the ironing board is making more noise for attention than my old computer. The fact is, I feel guilty sitting down to write when there are needs of others and I’m not getting paid. That’s where my big priority to be a writer keeps getting pushed down – I prefer to be paid to sit at the computer when I have so many other owners to attend to.

For example, I just got up momentarily to use the restroom. While I was in there, I noticed that it had a faint odor a litter box that had been temporarily stored in the bath last night as we have a new cat. So, I needed to spray a cleaner on the floor. No paper towels meant going to the kitchen to retrieve a new package, unwrapping them and using a few. When the job was done, I didn’t want to leave the used towels in the room, so I went to put them in the laundry room trash. There, the trash can did not have a liner, so I went back to the kitchen to get a grocery bag, and placed it in the can with the trash. While in the laundry room, I noted the damp towels that needed to be placed in the dryer, which I took care of. Once back in the kitchen on the way to the office, I passed by the pork that is sitting on the counter, still partly frozen, squealing to me to place it in the crock pot. That, however would require me to cut onion, potato and carrots to add to it with the chicken broth and spices, which would surely distract me long enough that I would not get back to my writing before my family wakes up – missing the moments of silence (except for the squealing pig, laundry, and bathroom). I am a wife and mother, and I accept the responsibility.