Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Do you remember hymnals?

I don't know about you, but I go to a church with an attendance of about 4,000. We don't sing hymns often, and when we do, it's usually on a huge jumbo-tron type of screen, complete with moving 3-D images. I kind of miss those old days when the "preacher" (not the pastor) said, "Please turn in your hymnals to page 421, and let's all sing "Blessed Assurance," or some other old hymn.

Keep in mind, I was a preacher's kid. I grew up in a tiny, century old, country church. We had hard wooden pews that got uncomfortable right around the "Please be seated." We didn't have coffee makers in our lobby. We didn't have children's church, because you were expected to sit up straight and listen to the preacher. (And if you didn't, your Mama probably carried a wooden spoon in her purse like mine did.) We always wore our Sunday best, which for girls, meant; a dress and tights, with patent leather shoes. Shiny black ones. We had Sunday dinner afterward, which was usually pot-roast. We went back to church again Sunday night for more preaching. And Wednesday night was "Prayer meetin' time." We had pot lucks once a month, with more food than should have been legal. We had Christmas pageants that could make the most hardened cynic get misty eyed. So I started to kind of panic the other day, when I realized that my children don't know some of the old hymns like, Great is Thy Faithfulness, and A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, and The Old Rugged Cross. (Which always reminds me of Andy Griffith, and makes me giggle. But not during church of course.) So... as I was picking out various Easter items, like this nail shaped cross... I also picked up a hymnal.
And my babies loved it! As we paged through it together, memories came flooding back to me. I'd find one I knew, and then hum the tune. Pretty soon, I had two children on my lap begging me to teach them the song. A memory created from memories. I couldn't think of anything more precious than teaching my babies hymns.

Do you sing hymns in your place of worship? Did you grow up with hymns, like I did?

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

This post has no point whatsoever unless you consider it therapy.

I really have no reason to share the following, other than the fact that I'm still simplifying my life through simplified decor, and spring cleaning like a mad-woman.  Not that I'm an expert on what mad women do. Unless of course, you count the kind of mad, when you clean everything that stands still because a child (who shall remain nameless) happened to track dog-poopy shoes all over your carpet in not one, but two different rooms.  Not that I'm an expert on that either. 
Ahem.  But if I was that kind of mad, this post would probably cheer me up.  I cleaned all the dishes from these shelves, and replaced them with whites and apple-ish colored green accents in honor of Spring.  And not in honor of poop.  And surprisingly, I'm not that mad any more. (Not that I was mad before...I'm just saying.)
These sweet little egg cups make me smile.  Smiling's my favorite. Except when I'm spraying spot shot on my carpets...
Okay... so worse things have happened.  I can't think what those worse things were, but I know for a fact that poop on the carpet isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me before.

I think.

Please excuse me while I list my dog on Ebay.

I'm just kidding.

Not really though.

Poop happens.

It's all fun and games til someone steps in poop.

Poop hit the fan floor.

I'm done now. Thanks.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Understanding this post is a mystery

So I'm standing in Pier 1 the other day.  (Because, in case you didn't know this, I'm addicted to that store.  I needed room spray, what can I say?)  And while there, we encountered an um... encounter?  I have no idea how to say it.

Basically here's the deal.  My son is addicted to The Hardy Boy Mysteries. And um, well... they use what we'll call "vintage words."  Such as "chum."  So my son, (in all sincerity) will say to me, "Hey Mama, can I invite my chum over to play?"  And then I'll laugh for five solid minutes and say, "Sure.  Let's give ol' Chet Morton a call!"  (You either read the books or you didn't, so you either get that or you don't.)  Or another example, an old beat up car from the 1990's will pass, and JJ will look out the car window and exclaim, "Hey Mama- look at that jalopy!"  And then I'll laugh for five solid minutes and say, "Yeah, I wonder if they're headed to the soda shop!"  (Again, you either get that, or you don't.)

But you see, there are also a few words used, such as an alternative for "happy" that rhymes with "hay" that we no longer really use to describe happiness unless we're singing Christmas Carols. Savvy? And speaking along those exact (and I do mean exact) same terms... there is another word which is used to describe something unusual or odd.. and it rhymes with "leer," but begins with a "qu" sound.  Again, savvy? (And um...Yes, I am deliberately making this difficult to understand, because of my Google ads.  And also, yes, I am a freak who worries about that sort of thing.)

Anyhoo... While we were perusing Pier 1 for the perfect room spray scent, we saw some odd shaped candle holders, and my son proclaimed, in a very loud 9 year old voice, "Wow. That's (insert word for unusual, that rhymes with leer, here)!"   And after several fellow shoppers coughed and raised their eyebrows, I simply said, "Son. That's not really a word people use much, in this day and age."

And that's when I realized that I needed to get my son some more modern day mystery novels to read.   

The End

Thursday, March 18, 2010

I've taken to freaking out about my mail.

I came home and was excited to see that I had a handwritten (or so it appeared) letter waiting for me on the counter.  There wasn't a return address, so I paused a moment to consider the handwriting.  It wasn't from a girlfriend, because I know all of their handwriting. Well... only one way to find out who'd be sending me some delightful missive, so I turned it over, and tore into it expectantly. I opened it up to reveal a newspaper clipping.  Oddly, there was a post-it note attached with a simple message of, "Sasha, I love Dr. Prager- Give him a try! J."  My mind instantly raced with questions.  "Who in the hello is J?" And, "Why do they want me to visit this guy?"  "Have I done a blog on dentists lately?"  "Why no return address?"

I scanned the article about this dentist and quickly came up with my verdict. - I was being stalked by an orthodontist, somewhere.  And then I promptly freaked out.   (And if you think I'm kidding, you haven't been reading my blog very long.) Luckily, Adrain breezed in with his muscley forearms, and flipped through the mail pile.  When he saw my stricken eyes, he said, "Sash- it's not a weirdo- it's just an advertisement.  See? Compare the writing.  It's computer-generated. Relax."

But of course I didn't. 

I had to know for sure.  So I called the number in the "article."  When it reached a school district, I may or may not have, wet my pants.  But then I regrouped and dialed again, with area code.  And then I was directed to Dr. Prager's receptionist.

Poor girl. She never saw me coming.

I made her call the appropriate people to make sure that the "very creepy letter/advertisement ploy with no return address" had indeed come from them, while I waited on hold.  And when she confirmed it, rather sheepishly, I told her very politely, that this was by far, the creepiest form of advertising I'd even seen.  And that in case she'd missed it, I was rather creeped out by the entire experience of getting a newspaper clipping with post-it note and no return address, in the mail.  Because it was creepy.  

And then I got off the phone, stomped on the letter, and declared that I'd never visit Dr. Prager if he was the last dentist on the earth!!

To which Adrain looked up and calmly replied, "Yes you would."

Clearly, he does not know the bounds of my drama.

Or perhaps he just knows the bounds of my dental hygiene obsession. 

Please excuse me, I need to go floss.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Three Days with my Friends...

Three days.  Road tripping. Four beaches.  Campfires.  Hikes.  S'mores.  Cafe's.  Sightseeing.  Memories.  Laughter.  Driftwood smuggling. Ferry riding.  Fun.  Too much to fit into a mere three days?  Not a bit...

We arrived at our hotel room on Friday, and this was waiting for us on the table.  A s'more's kit, complete with kindling and matches, from Erin's sweet Mama, who currently lives near our road trip destination.  She also left our whole group, a coffee shop gift card.  It was such a fun surprise! I love small towns.

This was our room key.  I can't remember the last time I saw an actual "room key.

This is Alli and I.  

We ended up visiting four different beaches near my friend Erin's hometown.  They were gorgeous and the rocks fascinated me.  I brought home a huge pile of driftwood, (though I realize that's not exactly um, "legal") sand, and a ton of rocks.  They were so smooth and rounded from the tides.  

One of the beaches we visited, was accompanied by a great little hike.  This tree was awesome. 
This was the second beach we visited.  We were in heaven.  Miles and miles of sand.  It was sunny and warm too.  We carried our s'more kit with us to this beach, and had a mid-morning campfire.  
Kristin hauled the wood. 

 This is lovely Kristin, and I. 

And then we got down to business.  Have I mentioned that I love s'mores?  Um.  Yeah.  Cause I do. 
 I have actually never sat around a beach-side campfire.  I have also never toasted marshmallows beach-side.  I highly recommend it.  

It's like food therapy. 
We goofed around for a couple of hours, writing all kinds of things in the sand and taking hundreds of photos. 

After a full day of beaching, (just made up that word) hiking, walking, and relaxing, we made our way to a third location to watch the sunset.  We also hiked up a very muddy hill to check out some old castle ruins.  I love these girls.  I tell them, "Hey you guys, go climb on that log and pump your fists in the air."  And guess what?  They do it.  See why I love my friends? 
Then we proceeded to take about a hundred more photos of each other doing various things.  I'm not exactly clear on what Nurse Nicki was doing in this photo. The Macarena?
We finally found a huge log to sit on, while watching the tide come slowly in, and the sun sinking over the horizon.  
It really doesn't get better than that. 

More laughter and photos in the golden sun of dusk. 
I took about 200 photos.  They all looked the same so I narrowed it down a bit for you... 
I wish this photo conveyed the sound, the smell, and the feeling of the moment. 
Have I mentioned that I love my friends, lately?

Because I do. 
They are an amazing group of women.  They can listen and reflect wisdom.  They can walk quietly together and sit in comfortable silence while lost in their own thoughts.  They can laugh hysterically for hours over memories, stories, and funny moments.  They can keep a secret and relate to every emotion.  

Sweet Allison. 
After the sun sank, we hauled more driftwood and s'more ingredients for round two. 
Erin whips up a mean campfire. 
We looked like we were huddling around a fire in a disaster zone.  It was secluded and cozy.  Just the right sort of place for Erin to start breaking out freaky stories of urban legends

But morning came, and so did breakfast.  I like to call this "Cafe art." 

I love breakfast. 

Erin loves coffee. 

This was my souvenir.  It's so very "me."
After breakfast, we kicked it, on beach number four!  Only today we donned coats, hoods, and layers.  Not so warm, and a little rainy.  Perfect weather in my opinion.  I love the rain. This is wonderful Nurse Nicki, and I.  It's really good to have a nurse on board.  They are so handy to have around.  And so reassuring. 
I'm so happy Spring is popping out all over the place. 
Precious Miss Erin, and myself. 

Beautiful, rocky, rainy  beach.  
... and speaking of rocks... 
It just doesn't get any better than this weekend.  Thank you girls, for all the fun, laughter, silence, and conversation.  I have never felt more rested after being with four women non-stop, for three whole days.  I will never forget that weekend.