Clothes...Not what they used to be.

Certainly, one of the most memorable sermons I have ever heard was by our good friend and Prof in college, Ted, who started his message with this sentence...

"Who told you you were naked?"

There is an unbelievable amount of theology in that sentence, but the most obvious effect of that little conversation between God and Man was people wearing clothes.

When I was in high school, I loved clothes. I had a closet jammed crammed full of things that looked good on me no matter how I turned in the mirror. I spent all my babysitting money on them...usually at the Salvation Army, though, even then.

Since having kids, though, clothes are not nearly as much fun. Things don't fit the same way. And I can't seem to figure out how to wear the clothes that are out there anyway. Everything looks like a series of raggedy pieces layered over more pieces of raggedy stuff.

Yesterday, I went shopping, all by myself, to try some of the new styles on and get an idea of what looks right. I found myself studying the manequins like one of those 3D computer pictures, hoping to see the REAL picture emmerge.

Here's what I discovered....ultra-low-rise jeans are NOT for me.

I did end up buying a few things...but I realized something.

I grew up attending Christian school, where we were required to wear dresses everyday. We also dressed up for church...I actually remember being told that it was inappropriate to come to Wednesday night service in pants....or rather "slacks." (Ugh, there's a word I hate, Tammi.) As a result of all those modesty talks over the years, I am ultra-conscious of being "too sexy" and I have a tendency to dress like Bea Arthur by default.

Anyway, so that's why I had so many clothes. I had dressy clothes, clothes for basketball and cheerleading, and play clothes for the 4 hours a day at home where I could wear jeans. And I had these separate wardrobes for years...during college, where we had to wear dresses, while teaching the first two years we were married and while working as the church secretary, except then I had to get new clothes becuase I my clothes were too dressy for work, but we still dressed up for church. Then I got pregnant and had to get another wardrobe. Then when we moved to Michigan, I was "just a housewife" so I didn't need my work clothes as much, but we still dressed up for church. I guess it was somewhere in the last few years that I have completely lost the need for dress up clothes, other than an occasioanal event. I've never EVER spent money on clothes I "just wear around the house." Which basically means that other than getting dressed to go to the grocery store or the Vintage, I wear rags, but not the fashionable kind of rags.

I've gone from needing three wardrobes to needing just one small one...and it's taken me this long to realize it!

Clothes are a big hairy deal. They really are. They give people a first impression of us and reveal our "status" in life. They reveal our hidden longing to stay young and thin, or to be taken very seriously. They can be modest or immodest. They are expensive, which means we have to find balance in our spending. Little kids in Guatamala make them for us, which means clothes are political. They keep the spark in our marriages and show our respect for one another, not to mention keeping us warm and comfy. And don't even get me started on dressing my kids because I'm probably living vicariously through them.

So, just in case you didn't have anything to ponder today, just think about clothes.

Well, THAT was embarrassing

I was sitting at church yesterday, holding Charleigh and chatting with another Dad who was holding his two little ones. I had never met him before and we were just getting acquainted while Charleigh was industriously unbuttoning my cardigan sweater. All of sudden I realized she had moved on to unbuttoning my shirt. The shirt had four buttons and she was working on number 2 before I felt the draft!

So later in the day, I decided to go out and attempt to buy some articles of clothing for myself that were made in the 2000's. (This after cleaning out my closet out of..boredom...because my husband has been around all weekend being SO helpful; I'm not used to all this help and time...but that's for another post). While driving to Old Navy, I thought it would be a good time to check in on my friend, who is in the hospital. I called information for the number and then got the switchboard and asked for her room. I was five minutes into the conversation before the person on the other end said, "WHO is this?" Not Donna. Oops.

So a little flustered, I thought, she must be out of the hospital and I hit a speed-dial number to call her cell. Unfortunately, I hit the wrong one. A man answered in the midst of a lot of noise and I thought, maybe Don is answering her phone....

The man on the other end proceeded to get very nasty with me. "Look, you've called here before...WHO are you trying to call????"

Me, even more flustered, realized I had called my sister's old number in Tennessee, which I have called once before. "I'm sorry, I have the wrong number." I said apologetically.

"This is getting old!" he growled, hanging up.

SERIOUSLY!

So, I called Don at home, got the number, called it, and got the recording that said the number has been disconnected. Argh.

Of course, I'll be trying again, but I have to say, I'm a little nervous that I have actually lost the abilility to work the phone or keep my clothes on in public for that matter.

Show Me Your Home Office!

Okay, seriously, I need some help. I used to have a whole room devoted to my ebay office, but here, I must share it with our only living room. I am a complete slob when I work and it is absolutely necessary for me to have things out and around me, thus the gigantic desk. But I've got to come up with a way to make this work because it's getting out of control...especially when I find Charleigh playing teaparty with my 18th century porcelain transferware butter pats.

Please, if you are out there and you have a fairly inspiring place to work from, then send me a photo or link to give me some ideas. I don't have any money to spend, so it'll have to be super clever.

Books I'm reading

U2 by U2: This is huge and I'll be reading it off an on for the rest of my life.

Little House in the Ozarks: Darla posted on her blog about books she loved as a kid and it brought back a yen for a Little House book. I found this in the kid's section at the library. It is a collection of all of Laura's articles and writings for farm magazines before the Little House books were ever published. It is refreshing to read the thoughts and perspectives of a woman who lived a long life through massive changes in our country. Her books were tremendously formative for me, and I even joked not long ago, that I watched Little House so much on tv, I felt like Charles and Caroline were my parents too. I've begun just lately to realize that not everyone has the longing to own their own land, grow their own food, and just generally be self-supporting. I imagine all of their moving about made it easier for me to move so many times, just like Anne of Green Gables made it a not-abnormal thing in my mind to adopt a child. You never know what ideas a book may fill your mind with. I'm greatly enjoying these articles and they make me feel creative and industrious, like it really does matter how I toil away at my little projects.

The Girlfriend's Guide to Getting Your Groove Back: Vicky Iovine's books have always amused me. She's not a Christian and it is interesting to have open access to her perspective (and lots of other women's) that their kids come first...before their husbands. It's no wonder I feel wierd and wildly out of place in my little world ...I just have much different priorities. It's hard living in these cokie-cutter suburbs, feeling so very different about so many things and feeling the pressure to conform. I hate it. I will not buy a mini-van or conventional furniture or sign my kids up for any activity that infringes on family dinner--and you can't make me.

Miscellaneous decorating books: heads up, Hubby, I feel a major work-space shuffle coming on.

It's official: This kid has a case of the cutes.

Organizing my thoughts...

Have lots to blog about...but it's all over the desk in my brain and I need to get it organized...this is what happens when you put off blogging....

It's Megan's birthday! Happy 7th birthday to you, Sweetie!

Yesterday was Hubby's first day at the new job. Cubicle. Warehouse. Clearance Badge. Multiple monitors and computer systems. Brain overload apparently, but in a good way. I think he solved one of their major problems on his first day. He's amazing.

I dropped him off so I'd have the car to pick up the kids since it was raining yesterday. I decided I didn't have to race home for anything, so Charleigh and I headed to the library for a cup of coffee and a nice long browse. We spent about three hours and I have a stack of really great interesting books that I actually started instead of watching The Daily Show last night.

Also had a blast doing my thrift store circuit yesterday: I hit 4 of the 6 I like to visit and came home with a nice bunch of goodies: hand-thrown pottery, vintage paint by numbers, vintage Pendleton wool, pewter, 50's skinny ties and some other goodies.

It is just starting to get cool and rainy here. I keep hearing about the snow up north and I am just thrilled to be here. The leaves are just getting around to changing and the mountains look gorgeous.

Okay, no creative juice is going on this post and I am boring myself. So I'll try again when I'm a little more focussed.

47 Percent

create your own visited states map

Roller Coaster....

Our life continues to be a roller coaster. Good good good and bad bad bad all in one day, sometimes in the same moment. I had two friends call today that I haven't talked to in ages to tell me about another friend's death. Bittersweet. In the next moment, the phone rang and Robb got a new job. Wow. I'm still a little numb. I want to feel something deeply, but this fog or funk or whatever I've been in keeps me from feeling any of it deeply. I'm just trying to absorb it.

I'm deeply grateful for the new job. I'm very sad to lose Sandy for now. She was such a lovely person. Just a week ago, she was teaching her fourth graders like she had been for 30 years. It was only a few weeks ago that I sent out an SOS to my friends and she replied warmly that she was praying for me. I will miss knowing she is there. I feel guilty being so far away. I hope her other friends (and she had a lot of them) and her family are okay. I know they aren't and never will be exactly the same again.

One more day at FCS. One long day...I can hardly believe we are going to be able to be a family again. To have every supper together and have Saturday mornings. You don't know what you are missing until your Saturday mornings are gone. It makes you feel old and haggard. I find I don't care as much about the money as I care about the time we'll get back. It has been heartbreaking sometimes in this past year when Robb would leave and I would just feel like all the color had left the room. I've tried to be cheerful. To make nice meals for the kids even on the nights he's gone, but it's just not the same. I'm relieved beyond words. I don't feel nearly as alone anymore. Already.

I feel like maybe soon, it will be okay to take a deep breath again. I hope I remember how.

less a to do list, more like turns off a traffic circle....

do i...

wash dishes, do laundry, start supper, set table, bake something...

photograph button lots, upload photos, sort and make a list of things to list on ebay

finish packing boxes and printing labels, stack them, and schedule a pickup for tomorrow

read my new Country Living and wait for Robb to call about the job interview

clean my room and do my hair before walking to pick up the kids from school

email volunteers for sunday and check my friend's blogs.....

Oops.

Notice the title of the item

and the actual motto in the picture.

It's been up for 7 days and somebody just told me.

Calvin just came running in...

...singing U2's VERTIGO at the top of his lungs while trying to make it to the potty on time.

Potpurri lll

I'm doing something I've never done before today. I'm making home-made bread. I sold my breadmaker in favor of my cupboard space when we moved here, and I've never attempted it before, but half-way through the first rise, it looks good.

A lady we grew up with used to make home-made bread. She is a wonderful cook. I was amazed half way through the kneeding workout that she used to make loaves of home-made bread and bring it to us. That was a lot of time and love to give away, but if my bread turns out half as good, I'll be thrilled. MMMMMmmmmm homemade bread with a schmeer of butter and strawberry jam. What a wonderful lady she is.

We had a tea-party this morning. Actually it was a hot-cocoa party. Know what is fun to eat off tiny plates? Croutons. Or as Vin calls them...."frootons."

I caught Mattie the other night with something hidden behind her back and a guilty look on her face. When I asked what she was doing, she revealed the round aluminum butter dish my mom found for me at an auction (I LOVE old aluminum). "It's like a restaurant serving thing for my dolls!" Mattie declared. Indeed it is...Bon Appetit, Dollies.

Charleigh has fallen in love with The Little Mermaid. She knows two lines and I find her singing them to herself all day..."Kiss the girl!" and "Under the Sea!" She dances around and sings the same line over and over again.

Vin has developed a new fear. Every school-day he tells us to hurry and get up because he doesn't want to be "targy." We tend to dawdle just to get him to say, "I'm going to be TARGY!" as many times as possible.

Robb has a job interview on Wednesday afternoon. Pray that he gets it. He has been put in charge today of making the breakroom at FCS "Hospital Clean" per the DM's orders. I'd like you to take a little guess right now of how enjoyable that might be for the poor guy.

I have a new technique to curb the tattling my children are becoming prone to do: When one kid comes to tattle on the other, both of them have to sit in time out. So far, so good.

I tweak an old recipe the other night and ended up with something everyone liked a lot, so I thought I'd post it here:

Spaghetti Pie with Sausage

1 lb roll of mild turkey sausage
1 can of Hunts spaghetti sauce with green peppers and mushrooms
1/2 box of whole wheat spaghetti pasta
1 egg
1 tablespoon of butter
parmesan cheese.

Cook the spaghetti and brown the meat. Mix the sauce with the meat and set aside.

Drain spaghetti and put it back in the hot pan with butter. Mix in the egg and about 3 good tablespoons of parmesan. When it is fully blended together, put it in a deep dish pie pan. Spread the sauce over the top, but don't mix, and sprinkle with more cheese. Bake covered in a 350 oven for about a half hour. It cuts into pie slices that are a lot easier to manage for the kids.

Okay, time to fly...the bread is rising!

WHAT is this thing????

I've spent awhile trying to figure out what this is...besides a cream pitcher, obviously. It is milk glass, or maybe alacite or custard glass...it has a different quality than my fire king mugs or other kinds of milk glass. There is no mark on the base. The image is of a monk who has tripped and fallen on the floor with a basket of eggs, I think. The other monk is wagging his spoon at the man on the floor. Obviously the condition is less than stellar, but it was so odd, I had to have it. It's about 5 inches tall and I found it in the thrift store in NY with Amy this summer. Can't make heads or tails of this and I really want to list it, but thought I'd throw it out to ya'll first for your opinions.

I'm thinking something new...

I couldn't get out of bed this morning. It was a combination of staying up too late trying to catch the late version of Project Runway (fell asleep half way in and missed the ending anyway) and just being completely overwhelmed by the enormity of the minutia.

It's been a bugger of a week. Seriously, I can't really explain it to you, but for just a lot of real reasons, things around here have been bad.

Sort of.

But then there is this thing. You've got gray. You've got hopeless. You've got blue and beaten up and depressed and discouraged. Yeah, we've got that. But there is this little trickle of something else. Something sweet. Something lighthearted. I think...

I think it's joy.

God has been whispering to me for a couple of weeks now about the place of joy and what it is and when it shows up and why. It first happened when I was driving and talking to God about things (I worship most freely in my car, by the way...the music so loud it swallows me, the scenery, the speed, the aloneness...seriously, some of the best things have happened with God and me in the car.) But anyway, I was telling Him just how sick of everything I am. It's been a solid year of getting our hopes up over every single little event...every "maybe this will happen and then everything will fall into place..." Literally a year on pins and needles. A year of waiting for the phone to ring, the knock on the door, the MOMENT when my life will just get back to normal. It's a cruel place to live...this hoping...and ultimately being devestatingly disappointed. I recall the day that came when the two weeks had passed. The end of the two weeks where I asked EVERYONE to pray that the house would sell. The two weeks ended and at midnight, like Cinderella, I just fell apart. I felt like I was falling and no one would catch me. I told Robb through sobs that I felt like God and I had broken up.

And yet here I was months later, talking to Him in the car. Asking again, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME????"

And He answered, which He's been doing sometimes lately..."I want you to be joyful inspite of it all."

I ignored Him. I was so appalled by that that I just ignored Him for a couple of weeks. I thought, "I'm miserable. I know miserable. I can do miserable. I don't know joyful and I'm not really up for trying new things right now."

But He kept at me. Kept whispering to me. It kept coming up in conversations and weird places. And then last Saturday night...at Fellowship...this EVENT took place in my life. I glossed over it in my "weekend post" because it still was too new and I didn't know what to do with it. I'm starting to understand it better now.

Sara Groves has a song that says,

Something changed inside me broke wide open all spilled out
Till I had no doubt that something changed

Never would have believed it till I felt it in my own heart
In the deepest part the healing came

And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine

Something so amazing in a heart so dark and dim
When a wall falls down and the light comes in

And I cannot make it
And I cannot fake it
And I can't afford it
But it's mine

The speaker on Saturday Night talked about how the last five years of his life have been horrible. He was really open and honest and even funny. He's a clinical psychologist and a theologian and his story included cancer, car wrecks, death, loss, fear, depression, betrayal. And yet, he was still joyful.

I've never been stripped down so far as to be joyful before. I always had something...some shred to take comfort in....some crutch to hold me up. That sounds weird, but when you have everything you are not as prone to learn joy....at least I wasn't. Being bereft...staring your own brokenness and sinfulness, your own terror for your own safety and comfort, your striking resemblance to a cat who has been thrown across the room...it is very educational for your soul.

So today, I just gave up. You know how a toddler SCREAMS until they fall asleep? That's me. I might wake up again screaming, but I think I know that He is there to hold me tight and let me wail. I think I have a new theory...I think I'm just ready to admit that life here on earth sucks. That bad things will happen without rhyme or reason and that sometimes despite my best efforts to the contrary, the worst will happen. Some of that is because its just a rotten sinful world and all of it is because God allows it to happen for His own purposes, whatever they might be. I no longer expect good. I don't think I care anymore. I can't fight it. I can't fight the dirt on my floor or strep throat or broken down cars or empty bank accounts or the stinking fly that literally just drowned itself in my cup of hot coffee. It's not true that sh** happens. Sh** is the ruling order. But Joy and Love and Peace, on the other hand, they happen. Inspite of everything. They happen. Like glimpses of order amidst the chaos. Like promises. Like engagement rings and newborn babies and seeds sprouting. Joy happens. Maybe this sounds odd to you, or maybe not quite right theologically...I don't know...I haven't pinned it down yet...It's a weird perspective-change that somehow relaxes me a great deal. I suddenly feel much more optimistic because if life can be miserably hard and draining, but something good could happen at any moment, then that's worth looking forward. That is worth being optimistic about. The other way around, I was always bemoaning the fly in my ointment. Now, all I see is all flies with some occasional ointment. Get it?

So anything good that happens...like a cool fall day with bright sun, like my children laughing, like my wonderful job that amuses me endlessly, like a fresh gallon of milk, like meeting a new friend...WOW they really stand out. They really catch my attention. They are really worth celebrating...like the treasures I find at junque sales. They might be imperfect in the strictest sense of the perfection, but they are still beautiful.

We had some folks visit at Vintage who are Messianic Jews, I think. When leaving the table a few weeks ago, I said, "Goodbye" and he waived and said, "Shalom." It caught me off guard, but I also loved it. Shalom literally is "when everything is as it should be." He literally was saying, "Let everything be as it should be with you." This new perspective on joy...this glimpsing of heaven in the tiniest things...this is part of shalom.

I love Christians with a sense of humor.

Hope and Dread

Is it possible that you can experience both of these emotions at the same time? It's a weird feeling.

I have a lot of things I could be blogging right now. I've actually thought through some important things recently, but I still feel the need to just shut up. I don't know what I'm talking about. I don't know what I'm experiencing. I don't know if it is good or bad. I don't know for sure, so I'm just staying quiet for awhile and listening. Maybe in a little while, I will know and I'll try to tell you.

I said make her laugh...

not give her a heart attack.

Read Robb's Blog too.

It's been a weekend. Since I tend to frame things by what I did, I will let you read between the lines...

Saturday: Woke up from a night-mare where a little boy died in my arms. I think he was one of the Kennedys, don't ask me why. Coffee. Talked through a tough situation with a friend. Removed the double bed from Vin's room for the bunkbeds that were graciouly provided by God on the curb. Work at assembling the bunkbeds, but the power drill got tired quickly. Went to the store to get two new mattresses, which were on sale! Whoo Hoo! Threw kids in tubs to get ready for Saturday Night Church (and can I just say that if Vintage ever has a Saturday Night, that will SO be my choice...I love that time frame.) Met with God and each other. And if you have ever done that, you may have some sense of how you are elated and completely drained at the same time. Put the kids to bed. Ironed tablecloths for Vintage while watching SNL...talk about the rediculous and the sublime!

Sunday: Worshipped as a family...a too rare and wonderful event. Hung out with our Peeps in the food court stuffing an irreligious amount of tacos down my throat. Unloaded the car to reload it with stuff for Sara's apartment. Helped her unpack and get her little apartment looking cute. Came home to find Hubby had folded the eleven loads of laundry I washed all week. Made turkey bratts for supper and attended my version of Sunday Evening Service: Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Clearly, the most redemptive thing on tv. Tucked in the babies. Actually discussed with Hubby the nitty gritty details of his new schedule at FCS, which SUCKS. Watched Tivo'd episode of ER, which, let's just be honest, also sucks. Raided the cupboards for snacks and ended up with a jar of pickles. Hit the hay.

It was a weekend. Now it is time to get to work...

Trick, but mostly Treat

I found this costume at a thrift store yesterday and just couldn't resist, even though Charleigh pronounced it "SCAWY!" and wouldn't even touch it. I knew, though, that if I could just get her in it, she would LOVE it. She screamed like a banshee while Robb and I wrestled her into it, and I finally bribed her with a piece of cheese, and got it zipped up. I was right...she took one look at it in the mirror and just swelled up with dragon-size pride at her accomplishment. So here's your sneak peak at Charleigh G's Halloween Get-up....

a perfect day for a walk

  

  

  

  




  

  

  

  




  

Here's a thing...

So yesterday we learned that Robb will not be getting the managers gig at the Temple of Jesus Junk. They hired some other guy, who Robb's co-worker Kathy calls "Bob the Builder." I actually went to check on her before I went to the back of the store to get Robb at the end of the day. It was a toss up who was more upset...Kathy or Robb.

Basically, what that means is a three dollar and hour pay cut. And oh, yeah, the humiliation of being demoted.

So...kind of a bad day.

Morning is here again, and it will be 90 degrees and sunny today. Robb submitted another resume to a furniture store and was sent a form letter asking him to stop by for an interview today. We've learned in the past six months that Robb is very good at sales, and though I'm terrified to hope, this could be something that would fit our needs.

So, say a prayer for us right now if you haven't already. We are in very real need.

Just say it...

...in the fine tradition of HIAB...I'll just tell the honest to goodness truth.

I'm struggling with some depression right now.

Yeah, all you armchair psychologist probably saw this coming, but just for the record...I've pushed too hard and here I am. Yeah, I'm thin. I have cute kids. My hubby loves me. And I am prone to depression. It's just part of who I am. When I get really tired or too many life changes overlap on one another, I just sink down into this dark place. They usually last three to four months, sometimes less, sometimes longer. I've never tried going on any medication for it, but I might be willing to if this one lasts much longer. My body aches. I can cry at the drop of a hat. I don't enjoy doing anything. Weird things upset me tremendously, like the area rug in the living room, which collects a lot of dog hair and makes me feel like a failure as a human being. So I rolled it up and put it in the garage. Mostly, I'm just tired. My soul is tired. It's too painful to think about a year ago or a year from now. This should be -based on the sheer volume of disappointments lately--the worst one ever, but I learned a lot from the last one (almost 5 years ago) and I'm going to try to short-circuit this.

A couple of weeks ago, it dawned on me...maybe even during an episode of Greys Anatomy (and even my favorite show leaves me a little cold)...that pain is a way that God tries to tell you something. I've been ignoring pain for so long, like the oil light in a car, it's no wonder my "engine" is in trouble.

A lot of people have no room in their theology for depression. If you are one of those people, go away and don't comment here. If you are not prone to depression and therefore have some kind of superiority complex, I can guarantee you are prone to some other annoying weakness, and you don't really want me speculating about it.

This is me. No airbrushing, no anesthesia. I find that nothing ever really gets better unless you are honest about it.