Mr Gnome stayed home...

Maybe I'll write this book...

No one had actually ever seen the gnome, but the fact of his existence was hard to deny.

 Somewhere, deep behind his brightly painted tree house door, he was likely having his breakfast of buttered toast and coffee with sweet cream. (Like Wanda.)

Outside the snow piled high and deep, much too deep for a gnome to trudge through, and so he stayed inside...

Glad Tidings and Joy

I met up with Santa Claus this morning and he gave me the prettiest Christmas wreath ever! It has pine cones, apples, and lemons and looks beautiful!!! It even smells good. I only wish I had a pretty door to hang it on, but both my doors are glass and I did not find a safe hanger inside Rite Aide, so it is hanging outside the backdoor on a nail on the porch wall.

Thank you, Tom!

And So... (The next post will be cheery. I promise.)

When I started blogging nearly eleven years ago, I never dreamed where it would take me, the friends I would meet, or what it would become. When and if these pages disappear, I will have lost a great treasure. So much has been recorded; lazy days and laughter, joys and sorrows, gains and losses, heartache and hopes. Sometimes I find myself looking back, finding vague posts that leak heartache. They are often so vague that even I don't know precisely what was on my mind. But they're vague on purpose, because my wish has never been to expose the pain or wrongs of others, but rather release the ponderings of my own heart and soul.

In spite of my efforts, sometimes my words hurt someone. Perhaps they think I am trying to inflict pain, expose their bad deeds, or get even. Or perhaps the pain in my heart is just too much for them to bear. We've had some rough spots through the years and the journey isn't over yet. I don't know where the road is leading, only that we must travel on, even when the way is rough and the hills are steep. Even when the destination is uncertain.

I am working to change things in my own heart and actions. Those changes are difficult and uncomfortable, even strange, but necessary. Sometimes I will have to say no when my heart wants to say yes. Sometimes I will need to do things that I desperately don't want to do. Sometimes I will need to chose courage over comfort. Life is fraught with pain. It is unavoidable and also a gift that gives us new perspectives, fresh vision, and tender hearts.

I pray that those I hold the dearest, the ones for whom I would (and have) laid down my life, will learn to love and forgive me because I have never wanted anything other than good for them.

Out and About and a Naughty Tale

Yesterday was nice, but I didn't take any pictures. Took my camera into Panera Bread with me but it was in my backpack and I never gave it a second thought until Cindy and I were pulling out of the parking lot, in separate cars. I had it with me when Deborah and I traipsed through two Goodwills and one Savers, but it never came out of the vehicle. I didn't buy much, but I did find a giant coffee cup, a few blue and white plates, and a lovely piece of pink transfer-ware.

However, I did grab my camera Thursday afternoon when one naughty cat hopped up on my stool by the kitchen table.

I decided to appease him with a nice little made for cats video. Birds and squirrels. Once I turned the volume up, he took notice and was thoroughly entranced (and entertained).

The furred and feathered friends in the video were terribly brave and took little to no notice of the ferocious feline watching their every move. The longer he watched the more excited Naughty One became until he could stand it no longer. When one of the animals disappeared off the edge of the screen, he made his move. He lunged toward it only to find it had disappeared altogether and he went crashing off the side of the table. ha ha!

 He was left looking disappointed and slightly confused, not at all sure where his snack had taken off to and how in the world he had missed. He is such a very good hunter, after all. After his tumble off the table we both (he and I) decided it was time to put the computer away and find a different game to play. He may have been no longer entertained, but I was.
:0)

Out and About Once Again

It's not been the best of weekends, my heart is pained, but today I am meeting my friend Cindy for an early lunch and afterward I shall find my friend Deb for a traipse about the area thrift shops. Maybe we'll find something wonderful! Maybe I'll even take my camera.

There's another shovel right there. Wanna help me dig this hole?

Looks like I'm just digging myself in deeper. Do you think it's possible to dig oneself out of a hole? What if I dig down to the water table and let it fill up? Will I drown? Or can I hope to swim out? What if all I know is the back float and doggy paddle?





It's snowing. Winter has returned. Finding myself tired and discouraged today, I took a nap. This afternoon I built a fire in the wood stove. I didn't bake or paint. I didn't want to. But I am still thinking about it.

A Thrift Shop Treasure and a Grocery Run

Today I meandered... Goodwill, Walmart, Aldi, Target, Barnes and Noble, Panera Bread, Hobby Lobby, Wegmans... My wandering through Goodwill found me with a painting in my shopping cart. It's not huge, maybe an 8x10, has a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow flowers, and says "Hecho en Mexico" on the back. I love the frame too.

In Panera Bread I bought a bowl of broccoli cheddar soup and ate it with my free for the month of December bagel. Mostly I bought groceries. This afternoon I made my own pot of broccoli cheddar soup. We ate it with salad and batard bread, My newest grandson came for supper and he smiled at me.
:0)

There Will Be Pictures...

... eventually. Maybe this afternoon.

There are so many thoughts bopping about in my brain that I scarcely know which one to follow. There is a house to clean, cookies dough to mix, and a Bible study to complete... The chickens have been tended, the dish washer run, and the bed made... But those aren't the bouncing, bopping thoughts.

I am still thinking on my ability (or mostly inability) to say no and go with it. I am also pondering my own lack of skills when it comes to asking for what I need. I've taught my children the bad habit of being indirect ("Hey, Joe, what are your plans today?" I heard myself say.) rather than being specific. (I should have said, "Hey, Joe, do you have time to help me move some furniture this afternoon?") I know I can feel cornered when asked what I'm doing on a supposed day off, rather than being told exactly what is needed. It makes answering so much easier if I know precisely what is being asked. Perhaps I need to let the need for specifics be known, and then start saying no when the questions aren't direct...

It's not really others I am working on, it's me. I'm not trying to be mean or selfish, although it can feel that way. I am trying to untangle some of the unhealthy thoughts and habits I've picked up on my way through life, thoughts and habits that make relationships and living day to day more complicated.

And then there are those bouncing Christmas thoughts... "Never be ready" seems to be my motto, but I'm purposing not to stress this year. (Ha ha! I'm trying to purpose anyway.) Thinking about painting some of these ideas on a few of those pallet pieces... If only I can sit still long enough.

Sparkle On!

We have a tree, now all we need is some lights and sparkle.
I'm going to work again today, without a headache, and then I will have several days off. I think that will be nice. Perhaps I shall sparkle the house and tree, whip up some cookie dough, or play festive music... Maybe I'll even take pictures!

Today marks the 5th anniversary of a terrible fire in West Webster that killed the two brothers and father of my childhood friends. It is also the birthday of the oldest son who went to kindergarten with me, whooped me in winter games of King of the Mountain, and pummeled me in after school snowball fights. He is one who would knock on my bedroom window in the dark during our teenage years in hopes that I might have a piece of gum to mask whatever kind of mischief he'd been up to. I rarely see him now, but still smile at the thought of childhood/Wonder Year memories, and once in a while the smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies brings him to mind.

Adventures in Migraine Headaches

Every four to five weeks I am assaulted by a vicious headache. The latest arrived late Friday night while I was out at a concert with my friend Cindy. Perhaps the poutine, nachos, and dipping pretzels post concert contributed, I'm not sure. I know they didn't contribute to a restful night, but they were yummy, even if it did feel like I'd eaten rocks.

I took that headache to work this weekend and was thankful for an easy job. I popped ibuprofen at regular intervals and attempted to relax my knotted muscles. Last night I left work with aching eyes, tense muscles, and a throbbing head. On my way home I stopped at Wegmans for "supplies," not because I wanted to, but because my "girl cupboard" upstairs was completely bare and I can't have that.

I gathered my things, took them to the register, and checked out. As I headed out the door to my vehicle, two cars were crossing in front of the store. The first stopped at the stop sign and then continued on. The second, which should have stopped also, appeared like it would not. It was my turn to cross. I weighed my options and decided to keep walking. (Please understand that although these headaches can make me feel like I am going to die, I had no wish to. I would not have actually walked in front of the vehicle...) The driver hit the brake last minute and came to a jolting stop. I momentarily wondered if I he was swearing at me, but I was tired and took little thought. By the time I got into my van, I'd all but forgotten my brush with death.

I did not open my computer last night. When I arrived home I took a decongestant and a Benadryl, found my jammies and my pillow, and laid down on the couch. It wasn't until I opened my computer this morning that I found this message from my favorite friend Deb..."so hey... sorry for almost nailing you in the crosswalk at wegmanssss"

Now, mind you, I don't typically play chicken with moving cars. I don't want to die, even if my headache is making it sound like a viable option, but hey, if I am going to get run over, it may as well be by friends... right?

Deb went on to explain what I had missed just moments before exiting the store. "the suburban in front of us had literally a chinese fire drill with people spilling out 3 sets of doors. they stopped to leak people twice. dave's not patient at all. so while i was still laughing, he almost flattened you... you would have loved it. one girl had frosty pale orange velvet leggings and another had a blue super hero cape"

It's all too funny this morning, even if I am still fighting that headache. And Dave, he's the one always telling us not to get arrested on our adventures.

(Too bad I have no photos. Chickens will have to suffice.)

What? No Pictures?

I've not been out picture taking since my walks in the woods. I've been preoccupied instead. Went out to breakfast and lunch with friends but didn't take the camera out. Went to visit  my new grandson, but rather than take his picture, we cuddled. It was nice. I've been to work, church, and out shopping, but not down to the bay and not in the woods.

I did have a message from the Cabinet Maker last night. He said a black lab was out in the yard chasing our chickens, but I wasn't there with my camera to document it. I counted eleven chickens yesterday morning. Now we have ten. Unless she's in hiding, 1 black lab + 11 chickens = 10 chickens. I'm keeping them in today, just in case, Hate doing that, but it's better than the alternative. Aye yi yi! Kids with sticks and a black lab. Those chickens never catch a break.

My friend Lia sent me some pictures of Sofie last night. It's good to know she's happy and enjoying her "new" home. She's been there almost a year now.

UPDATE- Eleven. there are eleven chickens. One was out alone today when I returned from visiting my brother. (It's hard to get one stupid chicken into the coop without letting the others out. I lost count of how many times I followed her around it.

You Know...

I'm working on it. Really, I am. But it's so hard to say no. I hate saying no, which is, of course, why I am so stressed out most of the time. It's not enough to be stressed after saying yes, even saying no makes me stressed. It isn't the other guy's fault when they ask. The problem is on my end when I answer, and nobody can fix that but me...

I have a few quiet moments to sit with my coffee this morning. I've thrown the clothes back into the drier for the third time... Maybe I can actually fold them this time around, huh? They first went into the wash on Monday, along with my top sheet and pillow cases, but then I bought a new set of sheets (which also got washed) and I never folded the basket of clean clothes. Wrinkles. Nobody likes wrinkles, so into the drier went the clothes for a second time. I don't have to tell you I didn't fold them the second time either. I hear the third time's a charm. I guess we'll see. ha ha!

On Your Mark, Get Set, Go!

Now starts the race to Christmas, but I'm hoping this year to enjoy a gentle stroll instead. I'm buying books for  my grandchildren (online, because the sticker shock hits different) and hoping to find a day in December to build graham cracker houses or decorate cookies with them. If we don't build or decorate before Christmas, there's always Christmas Day (or even Christmas Eve). Shoot, there's even New Year's for that matter. (I'm taking that weekend off...)

I'm not sure how festively decorated my house will be, but I do plan on getting a tree. Not only are they fun and festive, but the real ones smell so nice (and are a great playground for The Naughties).

I'm sure the four weeks (are there still four?) between now and Christmas would have been full even without me working, but I'm trying to see my days with G. as a break from the craziness that life can become. She sleeps the afternoon away and I have a few hours of quiet. Not a bad deal, really.

Posting Scripture

I was asked recently about the scriptures I post... It was mentioned that perhaps I wasn't actually living what I was posting. I bit my tongue. The suggestion was made that I was posting them only for me, as though they didn't apply to someone else. I said nothing.

The plain and simple truth is I am holding on with everything inside me. I had a daddy who lived his faith every day. He was the same man at home with his family as he was while sitting in a pew at church. In fact at his memorial service I said "...the greatest thing about my dad was his love for Jesus Christ and the gospel he lived from day to day. He was the same man at church as he was sitting at home on the back porch playing his banjo and harmonica." My dad has been gone for seven years, but he is my inspiration today, he is the reason I have hope. I saw Jesus modeled in my dad.

I don't take my faith lightly. It plays a part in all that I do, every decision that I make. It affects how I treat others and how I respond to what life throws my way. It doesn't make life necessarily easy. It's not a crutch. In fact sometimes it makes deciding what to do downright frustrating, but in spite of that, I know He loves me and He is there to catch me when I fall.

Loving

A little bit of lovin' goes a long way.

When you've spent your entire life taking care of others, it can be a challenge to take care of yourself instead.

What would you like?
What do you need?
How do you feel?

I'm supposed to know the answers to those questions, but most of the time I honestly have no clue. Sometimes I have to start at the opposite end to figure out the answers.

What don't I like?
What don't I need?
How don't I feel?

Quite often (like most of the time), taking care of Martha feels selfish, but I'm working on it. Scripture tells us to love others as we love ourselves. It's a small word with a wealth of meaning...

That Perfect Breakfast

Yesterday morning I met my friend Chris N. for breakfast at our favorite little diner up in town, and so I did not take time to sit and enjoy my usual after Thanksgiving breakfast of pumpkin pie and coffee. But that was yesterday. Today I had a lunch date with a different friend, my forever and a day friend Cindy, and although we met for an early lunch (it was 11 am), I did take the time to cut myself a slice of pie and enjoy it with my morning coffee. Oh, so yummy (and pretty too)!

Cindy and I sat and talked for a long time. She and I go back to infancy and our parents were friends before we were born. We haven't always spent a ton of time together, and we go long periods of time between visits, but there is an unmistakable bond that has stood the test of time. I love her and she loves me. As little girls we both had white hair and she was pretty sure we were actually sisters. I think we should have been.
:0)

Burdockled!

It was cold, it was wet, and it was soggy, but the kids thought going outside was a good idea. First the boys, and finally the granddaughter. She'd been out all of five minutes when she was back in the house What happened? She fell into a burdock bush. (Fun times!) Poor thing... Her Aunt Bethany spent a considerable amount of time picking bits of stale "Velcro Plant" from her hair just before dinner and by the time they were done, both of them had microscopic bits of itchiness embedded in their clothing. Aub could not stand still and even Aunt Bethany had to trade in her dress pants for a pair of my pj's. Ah, the memories!

Looking for Forgiveness...

I'm not looking to be forgiven, but searching my own heart and soul to see if I have forgiven, or at the very least, if I am moving in that direction...

I found this online.

5 ways to tell if you’ve forgiven someone:

When the first thought you have about them is not the injury they caused in your life. You should be able to have normal thoughts about the person occasionally. Remember, you are dropping the right to get even, the grudge you held against them. (I do have normal thoughts.)

Ask yourself: Would you help them if you knew they were in trouble and you had the ability? Most likely, this is someone you once cared about…perhaps even loved. You would have assisted them if they needed help. While I’m not suggesting you would subject yourself to abuse or further harm, that you are obligated to help them, or even that you should, but would you in your heart want to see them prosper or see them come to harm? (I would help them.)

Can you think positive thoughts about this person? Again, you’ve likely been on positive terms with this person or in a close enough relationship for them to injure you to this extreme. Is there anything good you can come up with about them? If not, have your really forgiven them? (I can think positive thoughts.)

Do you still think of getting even with the person? There may be consequences that need to come for this person, and you may have to see them through to protect others, but does your heart want to hurt them? If so, would you call this forgiveness? (I don't want to get even.)

Have stopped looking for them to fail? If you have truly forgiven someone, then just like you would for anyone else, you would want them to succeed or at least do better in life. Forgiveness means you’ve stopped keeping a record of the person’s wrongs. (I never wanted them to fail.)

Every day is a struggle. There are days when forgiveness feels easy and natural, and there are other days when anxiety grips my chest and threatens to squeeze my heart out onto the floor. I'm in uncharted territory without much of a road map, learning as I go. The finish line is a long way off yet, there are more deep waters to pass through, and more mountains to climb. It's not an easy journey and I'm not entirely certain where the path is leading. I only know that I am moving forward, even if it is slowly.

(Sorry. This is another one of those posts that doesn't get comments. That's okay. Just throw up a prayer or two for wisdom on my part and the ability to recognize my surroundings. Thanks.)

Thanksgiving

Ten adults, seven children, and way too much food. Why do we always think we need to double the recipe? ha ha! We have leftovers and there is pumpkin pie for morning. It was a good day, a noisy, rough and tumble Thanksgiving.

We rearranged the living room because Thanksgiving is a trial run for the following holidays. And we found that we could open up the  living room and fit everyone in one room. Maybe when Christmas comes we'll borrow Bethany's folding table and stretch it out even a little further.

The dust has settled, the chickens have gone home to roost (we let them out today for the first time since Saturday), and (most) of the dishes have been washed. Speaking of dishes, we broke out the good china today! Can't let it sit in that china cabinet forever, can we?

Today

Pumpkin pie. Every Thanksgiving celebration must have pumpkin pie. Because leftover pumpkin pie is breakfast the morning after. (My pies are in the oven.)

I'm no longer watching The Trio on Thursday's so I am picking up a few extra hours at work. I'll be there every other weekend and 3 hours every other Monday evening, as well as my normal Tuesday and Wednesday. It's something extra. Not much, but something. On my way in to work today, I took a detour down Empire Boulevard and stopped at the south end of Irondequoit Bay to snap a few photos. This weathered old post caught my eye.




I've not seen anything snowy that I wanted a photo of, aside from the chicken coop, but the bay was pretty. There are just a few trees on the cliffs still sporting bronze foliage. And then there is the naked sycamore still hanging onto a few sparse leaves.

Welcome Wintery Wonderland

I did not take pictures of the foot of snow in the bottom of the chicken enclosure this morning. I did not take a picture of the poor little hen who was foolish enough to jump from the top nesting area and into the snowy bottom. My camera card is full, the new one is in my glove box. My camera battery is dead. (Both of which will be remedied soon...)

So the little hen who hopped into a foot of snow didn't know quite what to do. She didn't struggle or try to get away when I picked her up and set her back in the top with her friends. I think she was a little bit stunned. Ha ha! I dug the feed pan out of the snow, filled it, and put it up top along with a few apples. The Cabinet Maker and I cleaned out most of the snow and stapled some more cardboard to the sides of the enclosure. What a great way to welcome winter!

Speaking of winter, The Naughties found the bedroom door open and an unmade bed waiting. When I came out of the shower, there they were, side by side, one looking at me with a satisfied grin and the other was sprawled out on his side getting ready for a nap. I didn't take a picture... They were later evacuated by a middle aged man sporting a beard and mustache.

Whiting Road and the Webster Park Trail

The weatherman says to expect snow on Sunday, but you'd never know it by today's weather. Sunshine and September temperatures! It was not a day to stay inside, so I connected with my friend Deb and we went for an afternoon walk in the woods. A different woods than I walked yesterday, but just as enchanting.

We couldn't have asked for a more magnificent autumn. No complaining when the snow flies now.

You Can't Make Old Friends

As I wandered the leaf strewn strip of woods by my childhood home yesterday, I reflected on the people and places that were a part of my early life. I literally spent hours in that little corner of trees and brush during my pre and early adolescence, along with scores of neighborhood children. The "dead end" was our favorite spot.

As a nine or ten year old I once went to the woods with a friend. There was a swampy spot not too far in where we caught polliwogs one year, and in the middle of this gigantic puddle was a bit of higher ground where a large tree grew. From the tree hung a thick vine. Being at the slightly daring age, I decided to swing across the small bit of water separating the tree's island from the rest of the world. It was okay but not very daring and so I got the notion to swing out over the larger puddle. Of course, as luck would have it, the vine snapped and I was deposited directly into the muddy puddle on my backside. The walk home was rather humiliating, although I don't recall anyone but a friend being present, and I was not fearful of my mother's reaction as she was most forgiving in times of embarrassment.

My first "boyfriend" was in third grade and his name was Joey. In the spring of 1973 we were playing at the edge of the woods when we accidentally discovered a nest of garter snakes. We returned multiple times on various days to Garter Snake Hill to catch a snake or two, carry them about and chase the older girls just to hear them scream.

Yesterday I stared up at trees that surely watched my friends and I play in their shelter 40-45 years ago. Some of them are now fallen heroes and some bear the scars of knife wounds where our jackknives carved initials in their tender bark. Here and there a rotted out stump was the only reminder of old growth, and the "crick" that Mom helped me cross on our way to visit friends, buried years ago in culverts underground, is long forgotten.

I I turned back toward "home" and rounded the corner, another couple of friends smiled down on me. They are old and ugly eye sores to many, and have long outlived their usefulness, but the Webster water tanks have been a landmark from the time I could focus my newborn eyes to peer out the living room window of my childhood home. One day one or the other of them be gone and I will miss them too.

The Woods

I thought about staying close to home today, maybe walking to the end of the road and back, but found myself driving to Webster instead. I stopped to see my new grandson and his mommy and when they got tired, I walked down the street and around the corner to "the woods."

I grew up in the house where my daughter lives. My first memories of the woods involve my mother. She took me there once when I was very small. My brother played there as a little boy. Back then a few neighborhood moms thought it should be made into a park and so a road was cleared through the trees and a sign erected, "Milton R. Case Memorial Park." As a little girl I wasn't sure whether to be dismayed or amused at our woods being a park, but as time went on and not much changed, I decided it was nothing to worry about.

For a time a pair of covered picnic tables stood at a crossroads in the trees. They were soon christened the "PS" and became a hangout for local teens smoking pot. Eventually the tables were destroyed by vandals who chopped into them and tried to set them on fire.  All that remains now are the ends of the posts and beams, hidden in the fallen leaves. Had I not been looking for a sign of the old hangout, I'd have missed them altogether
.

The road we once road bikes upon was barely visible today, narrowed by time and awash in bronzed foliage. I breathed in the scent of autumn and was transported back to childhood days when the woods was full of children playing. I heard loud calls and squeals of laughter but, of course, the sound echoed only in my memory.

Today the woods were empty aside from a few squirrels and a lone woman swishing her way through dry, fallen leaves, gazing at bronzed and naked trees, and rustling through old memories.