I am

 

Thankful .....

... that Tom's getting so much enjoyment, sitting outside for hours on 'his' patio. The birds and squirrels scrabble for purchase on the feeders; and I gotta say, none of the Toyko Olympians seem any more skilled than these squirrels.

His latest trick (Tom, that is) is to shoot his pellet gun against the adjacent burn barrel.  For a while, they'd scatter all directions. Not anymore!  If you've never seen a rodent sneer, com'on over.

Thinking .....

... the inevitable may come sooner than I hoped.  We've not a sure diagnosis, but it seems my elderly Camry's transmission is going.  Given its age and high mileage, there's no point spending the money to have it replaced.

I hate like the dickens to have to shop cars!  Son's says "if you can" wait 6 months. I guess there's a shortage of electronic chips for new vehicles, so the demand for used is keen.  (As are prices.)

Eating .....

... lots of raw veggies and salads. I sure made a dent in the produce section this morning, and want to show you (one of) my new favorite things!

We bought the 'Jumbo and Junior' set at Target last month, and were so impressed how they kept everything crisp for so long.  I went shopping for another 'Jumbo' for Tom's lettuce -- (yes, he eats iceburg, but I like green leaf) -- to no avail.  Amazon to the rescue!

I've never had much luck keeping produce fresh, but these are seriously great.

Wondering .....

Speaking of 'his and hers', we've segued to the point of having our own heating pads.  Good grief, right?

The doc said a brace wouldn't make my osteoarthritis any better, but I'm thinking it would lessen the pain when I walk. I've got something called Meloxicam, but would rather not take it every day.

I'm looking on Amazon, but there's so many kinds.  Can anyone recommend one kind of back brace over another? (p+ty)

and last but not least .....

I said I wasn't going to do anything about Feedburner going away.  And while I'm not setting up a redirect site (for e-mail subscribers) I do think it warrants mention:

On July 1, Blogger will no longer support the "Follow by eMail" (ie Feedburner) format.

However, you can still follow me here at

https://mevely317.blogspot.com

Not sure what's going to happen, but hope and pray I don't lose anyone.  Like the lyricist penned, "I've grown accustom to her your face."

Have a great evening, everyone. Let's talk soon!

Hugs, Myra

Sunday Smiles

 

Have you ever been walking down the street and realize that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going?

But! Instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something -- like check your watch, or phone, or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself -- to ensure to no-one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.

Every time I have to spell a word over the phone, 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot.  Today I had to spell my boss' last name to an attorney and said, 'Yes, that's G as in ... (10 second lapse) ... ummm ... Goonies.'

Why is it, that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous?  Like, I know my name, I know where I'm from. This shouldn't be a problem .....

And finally ..

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger!

Happy Sunday, y'all!

Hugs, Myra

Friends

 

Last night I read something a friend posted on Facebook -- and was moved to share it on my own page.

As often happens, the response was lukewarm.   Hey, I get it!  Unless it's a funny meme, an arresting photograph or less than 3 paragraphs, readers aren't inclined to linger.

Some of you 'young-uns' might not get this right now, but trust me. You will.

Fatherly Advice

A newlywed young man was sitting on the porch on a humid day, sipping iced tea with his father.

As he talked about adult life, marriage, responsibilities and obligations, the father thoughtfully stirred the ice cubes in his glass and cast a clear, sober look on his son.

"Never forget your friends," he advised.  "They will become more important as you get older."  Regardless of how much you love your family and the children you happen to have, you will always need friends.  "Remember to go out with them occasionally (if possible), but keep in contact with them somehow."

"What strange advice!" thought the young man.  "I just entered the married world, I am an adult and surely my wife and the family that we will start will be everything I need to make sense of my life."

Yet, he obeyed his father, kept in touch with his friends, and annually increased their number.

ca. 1957

Over the years, he became aware that his father knew what he was talking about.  In as much as time and nature carries out its designs and mysteries on a person, friends are the bulwarks of our life.

After 70 years of life, here is what he, I and you will have learned:

Time passes.

Life goes on.

Children grow up.

Children cease to be children and become independent.  And to the parents, it breaks their hearts but, the children are separated from their parents because they begin their own families.

Jobs, careers come and go.

Illusions, desires, attractions and interests ... weaken.

People can't do what they did physically when they were young.

Parents die, but you move on.

Colleagues forget the favors you did.

The race to achieve begins to slow down.

But, true friends are always there -- no matter how long or how many miles away they are.  A friend is never more distant than the reach of a need, intervening in your favor, waiting for you with their open arms or in some way, blessing your life.

When we started this adventure called LIFE, we did not know of the incredible joys or sorrows that were ahead.

We did not know how much we would need from each other.

Love your parents, your spouse, take care of your children -- but keep a group of good friends.

Thank y'all for being my friends!

💛

Hugs, Myra

BTW, my friend did not write this and admits he doesn't know who did.

If anyone knows, I'm happy to credit them.

Victim or victor?

 

"You know what they call someone who's not afraid?

A victim."

Nope. I don't agree with the person who said that.  Instead, I'd suggest, 'Alert.'  'Observant.'

All around us, examples.  I've talked about it before.  My father constantly, consistently bent on personal security.  "Keep your wits about you." 

Son's the same way.  Not one to talk about it, but Troy won't sit with his back to the room.

Another friend's husband prefers she not exit the car before carefully observing her surroundings.

Thanks to Sandra (aka, Mad Snapper), I try and remember to learn all the exits at Wal-Mart Target.  

Great examples.
But more often than not, I'm remiss.

Last month's 'big blow' raised a whole 'nother situation:

I've no idea why people were out dining in that weather.  Tourists, probably.  However, when things got dicey the employees at Catfish House quickly ushered everyone into the kitchen, to the giant freezer.

Naturally, that got me to thinking.  How many other establishments have emergency procedures in place?   Does anyone know?  (Linda, I'm looking at you.)   We don't have a home basement; even a storm celler.  Would I be safer running over to Winn Dixie and asking for a spot in the cooler?  

Speaking of home ...

I've always felt reasonably safe here, but we had a scare Sunday night.   Watching some mindless something-or-another on TV when 'Wham!'  It sounded like someone hit our front door with a fist ... sending the dogs screeching and carrying on like lunatics.   Tom's on his feet, "What the H***?"

No-one there.

A few minutes later, "Wham!" 

 

Tom hollers over the caterwauling, "Hon, get me the flashlight."

Me: "Don't you want the gun?"  

"Where's your cell phone?"

 

Come to find out, somewhere across the street, kids were playing with fireworks. The sort that sound like muffled cannons.   I'll be glad when Janet and Andy build next door so we've at least neighbors on one side.

This morning we were cracking up:
Tom, remembering:  "And I told YOU to go look out the front window."  Me: "Curtains pulled all the way back, ya. I made for a perfect target." 

If there were indeed 'bad guys', they were probably wetting their pants. 

 

Yep, we're regular Keystone Cops.
...... obviously, in need of some remedial "in case of emergency" measures.

Have you an 'in case of emergency' plan?

Expect the best, but plan for the worst.

Hugs, Myra

 

Sunday thoughts

 

Good evening!

Thankfully, it was a beautiful day!  TS Claudette took her bad manners and got out of here shortly after sunrise.  We've lots of standing water, but no damage.

Unfortunately, down south the storm left a significant debris trail and loss of life.  There was a horrific crash that claimed 10 lives and shut down both sides of I-65 for more than 5 hours.

But you know what?  Sometimes tragedy brings out the best in people.   

Some of y'all may have seen on Facebook -- but I'm recapping it because GOOD news deserves sharing.  A witness wrote:

"We were stuck in traffic at a standstill from the tragic wreck on I-65 today.  This lady and her family walked car-to-car, offering their camper bathroom and refreshments to anyone that needed it!  They set up in the road and even grilled for people!  Whatever they had in their camper was given away."

Despite what the MSM says, there's lots of good people out there.

Okay, I gotta be honest.  I'm struggling.  

... to remain disciplined, that is.  About the only area where I'm succeeding is my new Keto lifestyle. (Nope, not calling it it a diet.)

The eBay project?  Dead in the water.   Housework?  Pshaw.  Well, except our pest control guy is due for his quarterly visit Tuesday morning, so I'll be making like Mrs. Clean.  (How sad is that?)

Still haven't decided (like many of you have) whether to put an alert here re. Feedburner going away next month.  I finally stumbled my way through downloading a list of those who follow by e-mail and was dumbfounded to see 1,334 addresses.  Many are duplicates -- and others ... how do I say this politely?  Of suspicious origin.  No-one that I recognize.   I'm wondering why these people don't come out of stealth mode and show their faces?   Nope.  I'm going to let Feedburner do its disappearing act and see how the chips fall.

Yet, there's always a reason to smile. 

Tom's been watching too much HGTV!  Out of the blue the other night he starts talking about knocking down the wall separating our living and family rooms, making it one big open space.  I'm thinking, "Has he lost his mind?"   Our home in Arizona was an 'open concept' floor plan, but I like these smaller, chopped up spaces.

     

Looking from the kitchen into the family room.The dining room (left) opens to the living room -- where the light is shining.

He finally acquiesced, but it was nice seeing him so enthused. For a while there, Jack, I thought I was going to have to send you and Sherry an SOS!

Anyway. That's what's happening on Chapman Road.  I hope everyone had a pleasant day.

Enjoy your new week and please, stay safe!

Hugs, Myra

It's not too late!

Remember when on-line shopping meant calling Customer Service in another city?

Aside from a single department store and two shoe establishments, my hometown offered little in the way of Serious Shopping.   If mother wanted to take advantage of the White Sales or daddy wanted to buy us proper Easter attire, we'd have to drive 100 miles to Albuquerque. 

... Which probably contributed to my life-long love affair with catalogue shopping. Sears Roebuck, S-and-H Green Stamps. Miles Kimball, too.  A brief fling with Neiman Marcus' Christmas edition. (I just liked having it out on the coffee table - ha!)   I've forgotten the rest.

These days I do my hunting on Etsy.com and Shark Tank.  I think Tom regards it as little more than a novelty. But I've been cheerfully sucked in.  Wicked Good Cupcakes was a resounding win ... the Salad Sling, too.

Speaking of novelty ...

Did you see the pitch for Better Bedder?  (Try saying that outloud 3 times - ha!) 

"The giant headband  that holds your sheets in place."

The ladies who invented it were sympathetic, but I was sort of put off.    Good idea -- but  unless someone's physically infirm I'm thinking that's plain lazy.   Imagine all the 'stuff' getting trapped in the crevices? 😝 

Anyway, to the point of this title!

If y'all -- like us -- are getting drenched by TS Claudette, I doubt there's going to be a mad dash to Target's men's department.   Don't despair!  Let your fingers do the walking and present dad with a sneak peek what's coming.  

For instance?

I've discovered a fun new website:

  TheGrommet.com -- "Unique and innovative gifts from small businesses."  (Or, in my case - Everything you don't need but want.)  

Here's some suggestions for the man in your life.  Best, they're all made in the U.S.  (And no! Nobody's asked me to say any of this.)

Burger Sandwich Bowl

3-in-1 BBQ Tool

Dog Mug Dog Bowl

Neck pain hammock

Magnetic beverage holder

Active sitting stool

Who could ask for anything more?!

🤣

Keep smiling, my friends!

Hugs, Myra

In her own words

 

Hey there!

Did you happen to see Ann Voskamp's Facebook post this morning?

I'm guessing most of you are shaking your heads; others are not even members.  So!  I've copied her 'guest post' ... authored by none other than Jane Marczewski (aka, Nightbirde).

Again, I'm in awe.  

"I don’t remember most of Autumn, because I lost my mind late in the summer and for a long time after that, I wasn’t in my body. I was a lightbulb buzzing somewhere far."

- Nightbirde

---

"After the doctor told me I was dying, and after the man I married said he didn’t love me anymore, I chased a miracle in California and sixteen weeks later, I got it. The cancer was gone. But when my brain caught up with it all, something broke. I later found out that all the tragedy at once had caused a physical head trauma, and my brain was sending false signals of excruciating pain and panic.

I spent three months propped against the wall. On nights that I could not sleep, I laid in the tub like an insect, staring at my reflection in the shower knob. I vomited until I was hollow. I rolled up under my robe on the tile. The bathroom floor became my place to hide, where I could scream and be ugly; where I could sob and spit and eventually doze off, happy to be asleep, even with my head on the toilet.

I have had cancer three times now, and I have barely passed thirty. There are times when I wonder what I must have done to deserve such a story. I fear sometimes that when I die and meet with God, that He will say I disappointed Him, or offended Him, or failed Him. Maybe He’ll say I just never learned the lesson, or that I wasn’t grateful enough. But one thing I know for sure is this: He can never say that He did not know me. 

I am God’s downstairs neighbor, banging on the ceiling with a broomstick. I show up at His door every day. Sometimes with songs, sometimes with curses. Sometimes apologies, gifts, questions, demands. Sometimes I use my key under the mat to let myself in. Other times, I sulk outside until He opens the door to me Himself. 

I have called Him a cheat and a liar, and I meant it. I have told Him I wanted to die, and I meant it. Tears have become the only prayer I know. Prayers roll over my nostrils and drip down my forearms. They fall to the ground as I reach for Him. These are the prayers I repeat night and day; sunrise, sunset.

Call me bitter if you want to—that’s fair. Count me among the angry, the cynical, the offended, the hardened. But count me also among the friends of God. For I have seen Him in rare form. I have felt His exhale, laid in His shadow, squinted to read the message He wrote for me in the grout: “I’m sad too.” 

If an explanation would help, He would write me one—I know it. But maybe an explanation would only start an argument between us—and I don’t want to argue with God. I want to lay in a hammock with Him and trace the veins in His arms.

I remind myself that I’m praying to the God who let the Israelites stay lost for decades. They begged to arrive in the Promised Land, but instead He let them wander, answering prayers they didn’t pray. For forty years, their shoes didn’t wear out. Fire lit their path each night. Every morning, He sent them mercy-bread from heaven. 

I look hard for the answers to the prayers that I didn’t pray. I look for the mercy-bread that He promised to bake fresh for me each morning. The Israelites called it manna, which means “what is it?” 

That’s the same question I’m asking—again, and again. There’s mercy here somewhere—but what is it? What is it? What is it?

I see mercy in the dusty sunlight that outlines the trees, in my mother’s crooked hands, in the blanket my friend left for me, in the harmony of the wind chimes. It’s not the mercy that I asked for, but it is mercy nonetheless. And I learn a new prayer: thank you. It’s a prayer I don’t mean yet, but will repeat until I do.

Call me cursed, call me lost, call me scorned. But that’s not all. Call me chosen, blessed, sought-after. Call me the one who God whispers his secrets to. I am the one whose belly is filled with loaves of mercy that were hidden for me.

Even on days when I’m not so sick, sometimes I go lay on the mat in the afternoon light to listen for Him. I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t really explain it, but God is in there—even now. I have heard it said that some people can’t see God because they won’t look low enough, and it’s true. Look lower. God is on the bathroom floor."

💜

Myra

Signs of the Times

 

East side, west side, all around our town .......

Thank you, Target!

..... Although this morning I witnessed an SUV blow through like he owned the place.  Good thing I still had my gaiter up, covering my mouth so no-one could read my lips.

and finally ...

No doubt some Girl Scouts moms will disagree, but.  I no longer carry cash and won't keep cookies in the house.  So why do I feel so guilty disappointing an 8 year old?

Same for those bell ringers.  My charitable giving is done elecronically -- and privately.

Thank you, Publix!

T-t-that's all, folks!

Have a good evening ... sweet dreams.

Hugs, Myra

Tuesday Four

 

Thanks to Sparky and Annie for this week's questions!

Let's talk about you.

Music. 

What kind of music do you enjoy?  

Except rap or hip-hop, I think there's something enjoyable about all genres.  Lots depends on my mood.  Feeling lazy, unmotivated?  "Alexa, play ABBA's greatest hits.  Or Fleetwood Mac.  Loudly, please."

  

Old, 'real' Country is a favorite go-to.
But don't get me started on Rogers and Hammerstein ... I'm likely to envision myself a soloist. Ha!

Are you musical?

Nope. I took piano and violin lessons for years, and hated every minute.

An interesting after-effect: I can no longer read a single note of music. Tom - a musician himself - didn't believe me when I couldn't identify Middle C.  

Travel. 

Where have we been?  

In large part due to my father's passion for travel, I've been to all 50 states.  As a 'grown-up' I've also visited Canada, Mexico, the Caribbean and much of Europe.

What's your favorite destination(s)?

I loved Italy, and dreamed of visiting Russia someday.  Given the state of our world, however, I'd be happy to re-visit Breckenridge, Colorado.  A New England cruise, perhaps. 

Occupations.  

Did you end up working at what you wanted to be?

No. As a child I wanted to live on a horse ranch in the middle of nowhere.  Later, I majored in journalism.  But, having to play the deck of cards I was dealt, I spent my working life where I excelled -- as a secretary/executive assistant.  For the most part, it was good.  Some lifelong friendships ensued.  Celebrity perks, too.☺ 

Do you wish you'd done something else?  If so, what?

I don't think so.  (IMHO) today's mainstream media bears little resemblance to what journalism once was.

How do you keep from being bored?

I don't understand how anyone of sound mind and body could possibly be bored.

* * *

Now, let's talk about YOU!

Care to answer some -- or all -- of these?

Hugs, Myra

In plain sight!

 

Yikes!  What's happening to my mind?

Last night I had to throw away a perfectly good 3-lb. package of ground beef.   You see, while getting steaks out of the freezer yesterday morning, I grabbed the frozen burger, too -- figuring I'd fry it all up a little later. 

Except. When straightening the kitchen  before going to bed I'm like, "What's that grocery sack on top of the microwave?"  Uh-oh.  (Well, that's not exactly what I said.)  

That's not all .....    

One minute I'm headed out the back gate with the trash bag in hand -- only to realize the big bin's not there!  Nope, I'd walked right past the green Waste Management receptacle that we'd moved back inside the yard after the patio pour.  

And wouldn't you know, Tom was standing in the sun room watching me and chuckling.

 

 

But wait, there's more!

I've no idea how we co-existed with a single drip coffee maker and filter full of Folger's.

Come our first Keurig, all that changed.  I prefer my coffee dark and strong.  One baby step above espresso.  Tom likes his mild with generous amounts of sugar and milk.

So we're chatting aimlessly this morning while I started his cup. Oh man, when he lifted the lid and saw the dark brown pod you'd have thought it was a spider.

I'm afraid to ask, what else can go wrong! 

So, how's your week going?

Hugs, Myra

 

Waiting

 

"Oh no!  'Have to turn around and go back home, and just be late."

That was me, self-talking Monday morning.   Rather than doing what I felt like -- staying home in my PJs, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook -- I'd made myself ready and drove the 2 miles to ladies Bible study.  Only to discover when I pulled in the lot, I'd left my cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter.

"No, better go on inside and just pay attention."
(*Heavy sigh*)

When we began the new study, "12 Women of the Bible" I was prepared to be bored.  I attend more for the shared camaraderie and caring.

When the video began, however, I was startled.  Soon, captivated.

Who can't identify with the narrator's opening words: 

"I hate waiting.  I hate waiting for someone to call me back.  I hate waiting for a parking space.  I hate waiting in general.  I think wait should be a 4-letter word."

Like last year's toilet paper, patience seems in short supply.  For instance ...

I began a 30-day challenge on June 1.  Determined to shed the unnecessary weight I've gained.  It's not awful -- just frustrating.  "2 ounces?  Two lousy ounces?"  (Me, snarling at the scale.)

I have to remember, this is going to be a lifestyle - not a sentence.  I'm the prodigal daughter, returning with head bowed before the altar of Adkins.  After all, he served me well for more than 4 decades.

Another 4-letter word.  HERE.

THERE seems like it is going to be so much better.  Ya know?

What to do in the waiting?

Keep a sense of humor!

Have yourselves a super Sunday!

Hugs, Myra