Last week I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. For you non doctors out there, that's what is sometimes referred to as "balloon gallbladder surgery". Now if you talk to anyone who had traditional gallbladder surgery, then you will be told that this balloon method is much easier, some even fool you into thinking that it is a piece of cake. It is not a piece of cake. I had a caesarian section once that I felt better after, but come to think of it, I had a baby at the other end of that one!
When I came out of anesthetic in the recovery room, I felt great.....really woozy and great, except for the desert in my mouth. Boy, was I dry! I was given ice chips (thank you very much!) and shipped off to a room to recover even more. I was feeling great about the world....my husband (who in solidarity had not eaten since before midnight either) was by my side and I was looking forward to hopping into some street clothes and going home. My sweet little nurse (and she was really really sweet!) advised me that I had to do three things before I could go home.....I had to eat something, drink something, and pee. No problem!!!! I've been doing all three most of my life and I'm really good at all of them! Soda cracker went down with no problem, got myself 3 cups of cranberry, 3 glasses of ice chips, 2 popcycles, and 6 glasses of water, had them unhook me from the bag of fluids that was pinning me to the bed and headed off to the bathroom. Uh......no go, if you get my drift. Nurse came in to check on me and started the water. I imagined Niagara Falls. Nothing. Soooooo, back to the bed, 3 more glasses of water, 3 more popcycles and 2 glasses of hot tea. Back to the bathroom. Uh......no success. Nurse informed me that I was "on the clock" and had to go soon or I would have to be, gulp, cathed and that meant an overnight stay. Well, it was just too much pressure for me. To say I had a "shy bladder" would be a gross understatement. For someone who considers herself to be a pretty good "pee-er" this was humiliating. I resigned myself to the overnight stay, and maybe getting a good nights sleep. I got the room next to the helicopter pad.
So, we tried again the next day. Do you remember the happy dance you did when you were potty training your kids? The clapping, the excitement, the "good job" and other words of encouragement? Well, the next day those nurses did it all except no M&Ms. But I was going home, and that was good. It was very very good.
My first visitors upon coming home, were my daughter Cari and my two little granddaughters. They were advised not to jump on me or bump my tummy so they approached very carefully. (Usually they fling themselves into my arms whether I'm ready or not!!!) Little Sharon, aged 4, asked me, "why did they take your gumbladder out?" "Well," I told her, "it didn't work right." Now, my husband had his knee replaced last winter, so this replacement procedure is familiar to her. "When will you get your new gumbladder, Grammy?" she asked with complete innocence. When I told her I would NOT be getting a new "gumbladder" her eyes got wide with concern, and she asked, "can you live without one?" I told her I could. I could see puzzlement on her little face. "Then why do we have one?" Smart kid.
Well, its been six days and I feel human again. The worst part of the procedure is the gas they pump into you so they can work in there. It goes up into your chest and shoulders and you have a hard time catching your breath or breathing. After two days or so, the gas moves downward. Ahhhh, this feeling is familiar! I know what to do now.
So, this ordeal is over. I am on the mend, itching to get back into the garden, itching to sleep through the night (on my stomach) and itching to wear pants with a waistband again. That pants thing might be next week tho.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Willie
Russ and I lost our friend Willie this week. He passed away Sunday night, after a year of health issues that just couldn't be surmounted. We are going to miss him very much.
Russ has known Willie most of his life. He actually started out as the friend of his older brothers, Sam and Stan. But as Russ grew older, Will became a friend in his own right. These past few days we have spent some time reminiscing about Willie and the good times shared over the years.
Here is what I know about Willie. I heard that in the 50's he was a Golden Glove boxer. Hard for me to imagine him as a scrappy fighter, altho Roseanne assures me he was scrappy all his life. To me he seemed a sweet man, and I know that no man likes to be labeled as sweet, but nevertheless, that is how I saw him. And while we're talking about the 50's, he always wore that modified flattop hairdo, so popular with guys in that era.
He has a wonderful wife....a really, really wonderful wife. What has impressed me over the years, is how much they respected each other, and how nicely they spoke of each other....a match for life. Will was proud of his family. When speaking of his daughters, he always referred to them by their full names. Diana was always Diana, and Ann Marie, always Ann Marie. Kinda like royalty....no nicknames and I'm sure that's how he saw them. But Billy was Billy. Sons should have nicknames, easier to have a beer with I guess.
Will liked to hunt and loved going to hunting camp. I don't know exactly what went on there....I suppose some poker and some beer drinking, after all, like Vegas, what happens at deer camp, stays at deer camp! But I know that everyone had a good time, from the "edited" versions I heard when Russ and Joe came home. How many times Russ chuckled over some "Willie" story over the years.
He loved tripe, and how! Whenever Russ put up a big pot of tripe, he always made some extra for Will and Roseann. I don't know exactly what it is about tripe...the name doesn't even sound good, let alone the sight and smell of it as it cooks, but he loved it. We will be thinking of him with every kettle we put up from now on.
One year Russ and I decided to try our hand at making wine. Willie gave us seven crates of Niagaras and we ended up with some of the finest wine I've ever tasted. We couldn't duplicate that wine as we didn't write down the "recipe", but Will found out that I liked white wine, so after that, he always brought me a bottle or two of his homemade vino and always asked how I liked it. One year, he brought me a case....that's twelve bottles! He told me that Roseanne said it was too sour, but he told me to put a pinch or two of sugar in each glass and it would be better. So that's what I did. Plus it was a perfect accompaniment to Hershey kisses. It almost became a metaphor for living life....when life gets sour, add a pinch of sugar and eat chocolate! Thanks, Will!
Will collected friends like bees collect pollen. He has friendships that have lasted 60 years or more. If you were his friend, you were a friend for life. Everyone will miss him.
I hope his family can take some comfort in these sad days in knowing how much Will was loved, and how fondly he will be remembered. May songs of the angels welcome him, and may he rest in the tender arms of his Saviour.
Russ has known Willie most of his life. He actually started out as the friend of his older brothers, Sam and Stan. But as Russ grew older, Will became a friend in his own right. These past few days we have spent some time reminiscing about Willie and the good times shared over the years.
Here is what I know about Willie. I heard that in the 50's he was a Golden Glove boxer. Hard for me to imagine him as a scrappy fighter, altho Roseanne assures me he was scrappy all his life. To me he seemed a sweet man, and I know that no man likes to be labeled as sweet, but nevertheless, that is how I saw him. And while we're talking about the 50's, he always wore that modified flattop hairdo, so popular with guys in that era.
He has a wonderful wife....a really, really wonderful wife. What has impressed me over the years, is how much they respected each other, and how nicely they spoke of each other....a match for life. Will was proud of his family. When speaking of his daughters, he always referred to them by their full names. Diana was always Diana, and Ann Marie, always Ann Marie. Kinda like royalty....no nicknames and I'm sure that's how he saw them. But Billy was Billy. Sons should have nicknames, easier to have a beer with I guess.
Will liked to hunt and loved going to hunting camp. I don't know exactly what went on there....I suppose some poker and some beer drinking, after all, like Vegas, what happens at deer camp, stays at deer camp! But I know that everyone had a good time, from the "edited" versions I heard when Russ and Joe came home. How many times Russ chuckled over some "Willie" story over the years.
He loved tripe, and how! Whenever Russ put up a big pot of tripe, he always made some extra for Will and Roseann. I don't know exactly what it is about tripe...the name doesn't even sound good, let alone the sight and smell of it as it cooks, but he loved it. We will be thinking of him with every kettle we put up from now on.
One year Russ and I decided to try our hand at making wine. Willie gave us seven crates of Niagaras and we ended up with some of the finest wine I've ever tasted. We couldn't duplicate that wine as we didn't write down the "recipe", but Will found out that I liked white wine, so after that, he always brought me a bottle or two of his homemade vino and always asked how I liked it. One year, he brought me a case....that's twelve bottles! He told me that Roseanne said it was too sour, but he told me to put a pinch or two of sugar in each glass and it would be better. So that's what I did. Plus it was a perfect accompaniment to Hershey kisses. It almost became a metaphor for living life....when life gets sour, add a pinch of sugar and eat chocolate! Thanks, Will!
Will collected friends like bees collect pollen. He has friendships that have lasted 60 years or more. If you were his friend, you were a friend for life. Everyone will miss him.
I hope his family can take some comfort in these sad days in knowing how much Will was loved, and how fondly he will be remembered. May songs of the angels welcome him, and may he rest in the tender arms of his Saviour.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Hiss, Boo!
Hello blog buddies. Sorry I have been AFK because I was PW, and G (pulling weeds and gardening!). However, have lots of "stuff" floating around in this ole head of mine, and promise to start blogging on a regular basis now that my outside work is done (besides, it's too hot outside anyway!)
But what has gotten me off my duff and back onto the blog job today is something so frightening and disgusting that I just had to write about it. Hold onto your hats, folks, you won't believe this. There was a snake in my flower garden. THERE WAS A SNAKE IN MY FLOWER GARDEN!!!! He was laying there right beside the hosta and in front of the mum that I cut back last week. Just "laying in wait" to scare the spit out of me, is more like it.
Hubby and I decided to run up to the school to see granddaughter #1 practicing with the band, and as I went to get into the truck, there he was. All coiled up and looking ucky. So, after seeing him, I did what any self respecting woman would do.....I screamed. "Russ, Russ, come here quick, there's a snake in the garden. "There is not," he said. "Well, I'll be damned" as he looked over my shoulder. Now, being married for as long as I have, and knowing him as I do, I know he is not partial to snakes. In fact, he hates them. So maybe it was expecting too much of him to do something about it. "Get it, get it!!!" said I. He then informed me that it was just a garter snake. JUST a garter snake. He said it as if he was saying, "Just a butterfly, just a baby sparrow" It was a snake, and I expected him to get rid of it. He, being an expert on garter snakes I guess, told me that we should leave it alone as they eat insects and bugs. Not much of a comfort. I am not afraid of insects and bugs (except for large spiders and centipedes, they give me the creeps).
Well, I headed back toward the house and he asked where I was going. "I'm going to get a plastic bag and something to scoop him into the bag with" He just laughed and I guess he was right to laugh, because really, I couldn't have gone thru with it. So I just made him pull out of the driveway so I could get into the truck and not have to walk near the thing.
I spent the next hour fretting and obsessing about the snake. I just don't understand how Eve could have been taken in by such a creature. They don't look the least bit trustworthy. They ooze evilness. They slither, they hiss, they coil up. They have a HUGE ick factor. Only another snake could love them.
So after I was good and worked up, I made Russ take me home to check out the situation, and guess what. He was gone. Now you might think I was relieved, but you would be wrong. Where has he gone? Is he in the veggie garden hiding in the beans that I have to pick tomorrow? Did he find a way into the house? Is he coming back? Will I sleep tonight? Will I ever sleep again? I did get on the computer and went to paherp.com and confirmed it WAS a garter snake. I think I really did know it, but it was nice to know for sure!
The only thing grosser I ever saw in my yard, was a possum once. But that's another blog for another day. Ta ta, from wild kingdom.
But what has gotten me off my duff and back onto the blog job today is something so frightening and disgusting that I just had to write about it. Hold onto your hats, folks, you won't believe this. There was a snake in my flower garden. THERE WAS A SNAKE IN MY FLOWER GARDEN!!!! He was laying there right beside the hosta and in front of the mum that I cut back last week. Just "laying in wait" to scare the spit out of me, is more like it.
Hubby and I decided to run up to the school to see granddaughter #1 practicing with the band, and as I went to get into the truck, there he was. All coiled up and looking ucky. So, after seeing him, I did what any self respecting woman would do.....I screamed. "Russ, Russ, come here quick, there's a snake in the garden. "There is not," he said. "Well, I'll be damned" as he looked over my shoulder. Now, being married for as long as I have, and knowing him as I do, I know he is not partial to snakes. In fact, he hates them. So maybe it was expecting too much of him to do something about it. "Get it, get it!!!" said I. He then informed me that it was just a garter snake. JUST a garter snake. He said it as if he was saying, "Just a butterfly, just a baby sparrow" It was a snake, and I expected him to get rid of it. He, being an expert on garter snakes I guess, told me that we should leave it alone as they eat insects and bugs. Not much of a comfort. I am not afraid of insects and bugs (except for large spiders and centipedes, they give me the creeps).
Well, I headed back toward the house and he asked where I was going. "I'm going to get a plastic bag and something to scoop him into the bag with" He just laughed and I guess he was right to laugh, because really, I couldn't have gone thru with it. So I just made him pull out of the driveway so I could get into the truck and not have to walk near the thing.
I spent the next hour fretting and obsessing about the snake. I just don't understand how Eve could have been taken in by such a creature. They don't look the least bit trustworthy. They ooze evilness. They slither, they hiss, they coil up. They have a HUGE ick factor. Only another snake could love them.
So after I was good and worked up, I made Russ take me home to check out the situation, and guess what. He was gone. Now you might think I was relieved, but you would be wrong. Where has he gone? Is he in the veggie garden hiding in the beans that I have to pick tomorrow? Did he find a way into the house? Is he coming back? Will I sleep tonight? Will I ever sleep again? I did get on the computer and went to paherp.com and confirmed it WAS a garter snake. I think I really did know it, but it was nice to know for sure!
The only thing grosser I ever saw in my yard, was a possum once. But that's another blog for another day. Ta ta, from wild kingdom.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
Taking a trip with your grandchildren is a real privelege and real exhausting! Their spirits are naturally high just being with gramma and grampa on a normal day, but their energy goes thru the roof on a trip to Disney World!!!! We warned them beforehand that this was going to be a long car ride before reaching Disney, but I'm not sure their little minds really comprehended how long two days in a car really was! I have to say, they were good little travelers, tho, and brought along activities to keep themselves busy. My daughter in preparation for the trip gathered some electronic devices to keep them busy at least part of the time. My Sophie, aged 8, started with the Nook, on which was loaded a joke/riddle book. She started asking riddles as we left Erie, and of course, we did our best to participate. "What do you call a cow that has been thru an earthquake? (A milkshake) Why did the man stare at the orange juice bottle? (It said concentrate) You get the idea. After half an hour, only gramma was playing along, and we thought it was only a matter of minutes before she would tire out and give it up and move on to something else. Not so! She was not going to give up until she had read ALL of the jokes. Outloud. To all of us. At one point, her mother said that she should pick out a couple more, and then save the rest for another time. This was somewhere around Pittsburgh. She chuckled and said, "here's a funny one, this is good stuff!" I believe she could have continued all the way to Florida, had she not been censured! Sharon, aged 3, piped up once an hour, to yank her grampa's chain, "Arewethereyet, arewethereyet, arewethereyet???" Always three times in a row, and always with a little giggle at the end. Grampa would answer, "not yet, not yet, not yet!'
At one point, Sophie asked for some "tunes". We sifted thru my collection of cds, and decided that one we could all agree on (all meaning my daughter, husband and I) was Barry Manilow's greatest hits. Not being familiar with Barry, Sophie was not enthusiastic about the selection until.......Copa Cabana! At that point, it was, "play number 7 again". So we did. Again, and again and again. We sang, we danced in our seats, playing air drums and cowbells etc. We played it until we (the adults!) could not stand it anymore.
We arrived in Florida after two days and one night amazed that what we thought would be a tedious trip, turned out to be so enjoyable. Tiring but enjoyable at having spent some very close quarters and long hours with the kids. We arrived with the anticipation of Disney, and thinking that the best was yet to come. We were mistaken. It's ALL good. The "best" is in sharing moments. Little moments as well as big moments. The best is sharing laughter, and music, and each other's company. Disney was wonderful, and is a blog for another day. The trip was the unexpected joy of just being together with my precious girls and knowing that tho this car ride may fade from their memory's, it will never fade from mine.
At one point, Sophie asked for some "tunes". We sifted thru my collection of cds, and decided that one we could all agree on (all meaning my daughter, husband and I) was Barry Manilow's greatest hits. Not being familiar with Barry, Sophie was not enthusiastic about the selection until.......Copa Cabana! At that point, it was, "play number 7 again". So we did. Again, and again and again. We sang, we danced in our seats, playing air drums and cowbells etc. We played it until we (the adults!) could not stand it anymore.
We arrived in Florida after two days and one night amazed that what we thought would be a tedious trip, turned out to be so enjoyable. Tiring but enjoyable at having spent some very close quarters and long hours with the kids. We arrived with the anticipation of Disney, and thinking that the best was yet to come. We were mistaken. It's ALL good. The "best" is in sharing moments. Little moments as well as big moments. The best is sharing laughter, and music, and each other's company. Disney was wonderful, and is a blog for another day. The trip was the unexpected joy of just being together with my precious girls and knowing that tho this car ride may fade from their memory's, it will never fade from mine.
Friday, March 15, 2013
A Little Bit of Sugar, A Whole Lotta Love
Beignet: (ben-yey) Fr. a fritter or doughnut
Obviously whoever wrote THIS definition for the dictionary, has either never sampled this delight, or is the master of understatement. A Krispy Kreme is a doughnut. A cruller is a doughnut. Even a Bavarian Cream is a doughnut albeit a very superior doughnut, I'll give you that. But a beignet....a beignet is an EXPERIENCE! It is a light, melt in your mouth, yeasty, tender, powdered sugar confection so incredibly delicious, is brings a tear to your eye. I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it!!!!
Well, last week two of my grandchildren and I made beignets. It is quite a process. It took approximately twice as long as it would have taken if I had done it myself!!! BUT, would not have been as much fun. I made the dough after church in the morning and set it to rising. It SMELLED like heaven, if you like that yeasty smell. I could dab some behind each ear and on my wrists! Then after dinner, and the dishes were done, we began actually frying them. At this point, the procedure is very simple. Roll out the dough, cut into squares, fry in oil, cover in powdered sugar, eat. Simple unless you are using child labor. All of a sudden, two children turns into a herd. Both want to roll, and Sophie knows where I keep the extra rolling pin, so all of a sudden I have one rolling with supervision, and one going rogue. Then there is the pizza cutter which must be shared. A squabble ensues and I am praying no little fingers end up being "shortened". Once they were cut and arranged on a cookie sheet, Gramma set to frying. They don't take long in the oil, and they puff up so beautifully. Out of the oil, I drained them on another cookie sheet covered in paper towels and set them to cooling. Now, my little helpers took the main stage. They were in charge of putting the beignets into a bag with powdered sugar and shaking. And they did. With gusto. With waaaay too much gusto! We had powdered sugar everywhere! My kitchen was so sticky, when I walked across the floor I was afraid my socks would come off!
As the beignets were piling up (the recipe makes a LOT, but you need a LOT as they are just sooooo delicious) my little Sharon kept asking for more. She claimed she only had two, but she had sugar from nose to chin each time we looked at her, even after I kept wiping her up. So after everyone had their fill (diet???? what diet???) we made some deliveries and took some to my mother-in-law and a few others.
We have plans to make them again, BUT, not until summer when we can do it outside, and when I have all the grandchildren here......and their mothers! There is something about cooking with kids, my grown up kids included (thanks Cari for the help!) that grows a woman's heart. The bonding, the laughter, the "sweetness" of enjoying the moment. More than satisfying. More than pleasurable. Whats the word I'm looking for? Ah yes, gratitude for the blessing of little fingers.
FRENCH QUARTER BEIGNETS
1 1/2 cups lukewarm water
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 envelope active dry yeast
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 1/4 tsp salt
1 cup evaporated milk
7 cups flour
1/4 cup shortening
Oil for frying
confectioners sugar
Mix water, sugar, and yeast in a large bowl and let sit for 10 minutes
In another bowl, beat the eggs salt and evaporated milk together. Mix the egg mixture into the yeast mixture. Add 3 cups of flour to the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Add the shortening and continue to stir while adding the remaining flour. Remove dough from bowl, place on a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth. Spray a lg bowl with nonstick spray, put the dough in and cover with plastic wrap or a towel. Let rise in a warm place for at least 2 hours. (Mine was longer and they were sooo light)
Preheat oil in deep fryer to 350 degree
Roll the dough out to about 1/4 inch thickness and cut into squares. Deep fry a few at a time, turning, until they are a nice golden color. Drain for a few seconds then toss them into a bag with confectioners sugar to coat. Hold the bag CLOSED (I know you know this, but make sure the kids know it too!!!!) Shake. If you have leftover (hard to believe!!) just pop into the microwave for 10 seconds.....just like fresh. Enjoy!!!!
Obviously whoever wrote THIS definition for the dictionary, has either never sampled this delight, or is the master of understatement. A Krispy Kreme is a doughnut. A cruller is a doughnut. Even a Bavarian Cream is a doughnut albeit a very superior doughnut, I'll give you that. But a beignet....a beignet is an EXPERIENCE! It is a light, melt in your mouth, yeasty, tender, powdered sugar confection so incredibly delicious, is brings a tear to your eye. I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it!!!!
Well, last week two of my grandchildren and I made beignets. It is quite a process. It took approximately twice as long as it would have taken if I had done it myself!!! BUT, would not have been as much fun. I made the dough after church in the morning and set it to rising. It SMELLED like heaven, if you like that yeasty smell. I could dab some behind each ear and on my wrists! Then after dinner, and the dishes were done, we began actually frying them. At this point, the procedure is very simple. Roll out the dough, cut into squares, fry in oil, cover in powdered sugar, eat. Simple unless you are using child labor. All of a sudden, two children turns into a herd. Both want to roll, and Sophie knows where I keep the extra rolling pin, so all of a sudden I have one rolling with supervision, and one going rogue. Then there is the pizza cutter which must be shared. A squabble ensues and I am praying no little fingers end up being "shortened". Once they were cut and arranged on a cookie sheet, Gramma set to frying. They don't take long in the oil, and they puff up so beautifully. Out of the oil, I drained them on another cookie sheet covered in paper towels and set them to cooling. Now, my little helpers took the main stage. They were in charge of putting the beignets into a bag with powdered sugar and shaking. And they did. With gusto. With waaaay too much gusto! We had powdered sugar everywhere! My kitchen was so sticky, when I walked across the floor I was afraid my socks would come off!
As the beignets were piling up (the recipe makes a LOT, but you need a LOT as they are just sooooo delicious) my little Sharon kept asking for more. She claimed she only had two, but she had sugar from nose to chin each time we looked at her, even after I kept wiping her up. So after everyone had their fill (diet???? what diet???) we made some deliveries and took some to my mother-in-law and a few others.
We have plans to make them again, BUT, not until summer when we can do it outside, and when I have all the grandchildren here......and their mothers! There is something about cooking with kids, my grown up kids included (thanks Cari for the help!) that grows a woman's heart. The bonding, the laughter, the "sweetness" of enjoying the moment. More than satisfying. More than pleasurable. Whats the word I'm looking for? Ah yes, gratitude for the blessing of little fingers.
FRENCH QUARTER BEIGNETS
1 1/2 cups lukewarm water
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 envelope active dry yeast
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 1/4 tsp salt
1 cup evaporated milk
7 cups flour
1/4 cup shortening
Oil for frying
confectioners sugar
Mix water, sugar, and yeast in a large bowl and let sit for 10 minutes
In another bowl, beat the eggs salt and evaporated milk together. Mix the egg mixture into the yeast mixture. Add 3 cups of flour to the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Add the shortening and continue to stir while adding the remaining flour. Remove dough from bowl, place on a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth. Spray a lg bowl with nonstick spray, put the dough in and cover with plastic wrap or a towel. Let rise in a warm place for at least 2 hours. (Mine was longer and they were sooo light)
Preheat oil in deep fryer to 350 degree
Roll the dough out to about 1/4 inch thickness and cut into squares. Deep fry a few at a time, turning, until they are a nice golden color. Drain for a few seconds then toss them into a bag with confectioners sugar to coat. Hold the bag CLOSED (I know you know this, but make sure the kids know it too!!!!) Shake. If you have leftover (hard to believe!!) just pop into the microwave for 10 seconds.....just like fresh. Enjoy!!!!
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Easter People
Last month, a young man growing up in our community was murdered while living in Austrailia. He has been brought back to be buried here this weekend. I did not know him, nor do I know his family, but his death has touched many who live here. We can all feel the horror of so violent a death, and our hearts go out to a mother and father who must bury their son, family who will surely miss their loved one, and extended friends who will agonize over the senselessness of so tragic an end.
Young people are not supposed to die. They are supposed to outlive their elders, to live on to have children and grandchildren of their own. And no one should have such an ugly death. At times like this we cry out to God, "Why? What good can come of this?" We feel that if we just know God's intentions we could accept, and it would be easier to bear. It won't be. What we are really asking is, "How? How can I trust you again, Lord? How could you do this to me? How will I ever live through this?" It is all too human. We focus on the agony that this death brings us, and it scares us. This too, is all too human and understandable.
But, we forget that our God lost a son too, and he is familiar with and shares our grief. And while we think that our grief is too much to take, He carries the greater portion of the load on our behalf. He sent us a Saviour, and a Consoler. After a time, our grief is assuaged, and we begin to notice the angels and helpers He has sent to guide us through the darkness of our loss. We are an Easter people....we believe in sun after the storm, dawn after the dark night, and resurrection after death. We cannot live in hopelessness forever. We live out our resurrection in many ways.....by believing that though evil things happen in this world, the world is not evil, that there are more good people than bad, and that though sadness may once again enter our lives someday, goodness and happiness will be present as well.
I pray that comfort comes to this family, and for eternal rest for all who have entered the next life unexpectedly.
Young people are not supposed to die. They are supposed to outlive their elders, to live on to have children and grandchildren of their own. And no one should have such an ugly death. At times like this we cry out to God, "Why? What good can come of this?" We feel that if we just know God's intentions we could accept, and it would be easier to bear. It won't be. What we are really asking is, "How? How can I trust you again, Lord? How could you do this to me? How will I ever live through this?" It is all too human. We focus on the agony that this death brings us, and it scares us. This too, is all too human and understandable.
But, we forget that our God lost a son too, and he is familiar with and shares our grief. And while we think that our grief is too much to take, He carries the greater portion of the load on our behalf. He sent us a Saviour, and a Consoler. After a time, our grief is assuaged, and we begin to notice the angels and helpers He has sent to guide us through the darkness of our loss. We are an Easter people....we believe in sun after the storm, dawn after the dark night, and resurrection after death. We cannot live in hopelessness forever. We live out our resurrection in many ways.....by believing that though evil things happen in this world, the world is not evil, that there are more good people than bad, and that though sadness may once again enter our lives someday, goodness and happiness will be present as well.
I pray that comfort comes to this family, and for eternal rest for all who have entered the next life unexpectedly.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
A Bra, A Bra, My Queendom for a Bra
My apologies to Will Shakespeare for bastardizing his famous line from King Lear! However, to find a good fitting brassiere is the quest of many women my age. I feel kind of funny writing about it, but it has been on my mind since retiring. I entered retirement with a few simple goals: to watch more than the first 15 minutes of the Today show, to finally make a coconut cream pie, and to find a good fitting bra. Two out of three goals have been checked off, but I am beginning to despair of ever attaining the third. Sigh!!!
I wonder if Queen Elizabeth has the same trouble. I mean really!!! How does she shop for that which every woman, royal or not, wears? Can she just go into Harrods and ask for a 36C? Or does she have them specially made? Who measures her? And when she says, "We need a little more support, and less back fat" is she using the royal "we" or is she referring to "the girls"? Just wondering.
And speaking of back fat....that is just the BEGINNING of the troubles that befall the unDDeniably DDazzling, DDelightful and DDivine women seeking to be comfortable while looking aDDorable!!!! What about comfort??? What about "top spillage"? What about "side boobage?"
Recently I went into a woman's store advertising expert consultation. The "expert" poked me, spun me, measured me and proceeded to give me the same size bra that I walked in with, only with the "comfort strap" hiked up so far, that I looked like I had these huge cones coming out of my neck!!! In a couple of hours, everything was "down around the equator" if you get my drift.
I also succumbed to the current TV craze advertising the Ah! bra (Genie bra to some) which details the all way stretch fabric, promising comfort AND support! Comfort, YES! Support, not so much. My daughter who also bit on the comfort/support premise suggested I wear two at a time, since they are so lightweight. I tried it. More support for sure, but it cut off the blood supply to my arms and I had pins and needles all day long. Again.... sigh.
I have come to the conclusion that the only way to get a good fitting bra is to....gulp....lose weight. I am not sure I am prepared to get that drastic!!! Sooooo......back to the hunt. In the meantime, if you see me on the street, and I am tugging, pulling, squirming or something else, just smile and know....it's not you, its my bra.
I wonder if Queen Elizabeth has the same trouble. I mean really!!! How does she shop for that which every woman, royal or not, wears? Can she just go into Harrods and ask for a 36C? Or does she have them specially made? Who measures her? And when she says, "We need a little more support, and less back fat" is she using the royal "we" or is she referring to "the girls"? Just wondering.
And speaking of back fat....that is just the BEGINNING of the troubles that befall the unDDeniably DDazzling, DDelightful and DDivine women seeking to be comfortable while looking aDDorable!!!! What about comfort??? What about "top spillage"? What about "side boobage?"
Recently I went into a woman's store advertising expert consultation. The "expert" poked me, spun me, measured me and proceeded to give me the same size bra that I walked in with, only with the "comfort strap" hiked up so far, that I looked like I had these huge cones coming out of my neck!!! In a couple of hours, everything was "down around the equator" if you get my drift.
I also succumbed to the current TV craze advertising the Ah! bra (Genie bra to some) which details the all way stretch fabric, promising comfort AND support! Comfort, YES! Support, not so much. My daughter who also bit on the comfort/support premise suggested I wear two at a time, since they are so lightweight. I tried it. More support for sure, but it cut off the blood supply to my arms and I had pins and needles all day long. Again.... sigh.
I have come to the conclusion that the only way to get a good fitting bra is to....gulp....lose weight. I am not sure I am prepared to get that drastic!!! Sooooo......back to the hunt. In the meantime, if you see me on the street, and I am tugging, pulling, squirming or something else, just smile and know....it's not you, its my bra.
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