People I Can't Wait to Meet in Heaven

I'm doing a lot of cleaning up (and cleaning out) of stuff, including lots of old papers and pictures that were my Daddy's. I ran across some stuff from Granddaddy's Book of Remembrance that I haven't read in forever. I love this stuff.

This is an excerpt that my great-grandmother Emma (Daddy's grandmother, Granddaddy's mother) wrote to the church paper. The "little 15 year old Robert" mentioned is my granddaddy. I love this. I love being able to claim a strong Christian family. I want to make them proud, and I am proud to have them.

Will, Robert, and Emma Rash

"Dear Brother Richards:
"It is with a thankful heart I wish to write a few lines to tell about our wonderful meeting at Waco yesterday. Two deacons were ordained. Then Elders Childers and Watts preached so good for us, it sure was a heavenly place on earth to me, for my little 15 year old Robert came home to the dear old church. I asked him about a month ago what his evidence was, he said he heard me singing 'Jesus, thou art the sinners friend,' and something came over him that he wanted to join the church. He said to me, 'Mamma, don't you remember Grandma read in the Bible to remember thy Creator in the day of thy youth?' But first of all, six years ago he lay at the point of death in the hospital. The old Sisters came and knelt around him with a black cross in their hand, but last night he saw a white cross. Some of the children asked him if he was going to be a [C]hristian, he answered very proudly that we was going to be an Old Baptist.
"Oh dear Lord, let me so live that he will always want to live in the church and follow in thy footsteps.
"Mrs. Emma Rash
"Lorena, Texas"

And so he did.

Here are some of his memories about that time, written in his book of remembrances to me (reading this book always makes me cry, so forgive the typos):

"I know there is a God because A presence outside of human stayed beside me during a number of serious illnesses. I did not know that it was God, but it had to be He. He told me many times that He would not take me from those I loved. He also convinced me that all humanity must die or be transformed when time is no more in order to gain immortality."

"The first time I knew God was real I thought that he was angel sent from God. Occasion--I was 7 years old and dying of ruptured appendix. God sent the good surgeon to pull me from the brink."

"The things my mother taught me about God That is God--only one God. Love Him and His Son with all your heart. Have faith in Him because without faith, it is impossible to please Him."

And my favorite: "I experienced a turning point in my faith when I was 14. Primitive Baptists beleive that you must be born again to be with Him forever. I was lying on a grassy bank of the Bullhide Creek in the shade of a weeping willow when a ray of sunshine found its way through the leaves. It seemed to say, 'You are Mine. Come.'"

I'm Sick

Not "as a dog" or even a "sick puppy." Just messy enough to raise eyebrows if I show my face at work today. Aches and pains? I can't tell if it's steroids or coughing, but I gots 'em.

So, I attempt to work from home on a project I need to get done, and this is what happens. Mindless blogging because I can't concentrate. Here, then, are some random things to pepper the day. Nothing exciting, mind you, but random can be fun sometimes.

Macy is lying in the hall, using the closet door to prop up her head so she can appear awake to the cat, who is lying on top of the couch behind my head, waiting to scratch her eyes out.

Scott, who got me sick in the first place and is also home sick today (a rarity to say the very least), is snoring in the recliner, mouth open. I wish I had a feather on a stick ... :)

It occurs to me that I am wiped out after having made the standard chicken noodle soup for lunch. The dishwasher, which is on probation right now while we decide whether we need a new one, is churning with several days' worth of dirty dishes. I hate it when Scott loads and doesn't run the thing. How gross. Anyway.

It's 13 days until my birthday! At least I won't be 40 anymore. :) And to celebrate my new oldness, I am going to see Fuel at Hat Tricks. Love Fuel. Love love love.

Speaking of love... It's also 12 days until Valentine's Day. For V-Day this year, I am going to do the Love Dare for my husband. Before you get too excited, look it up. I told him I was doing it, but I look forward to seeing his reaction. In other Valentine's Day news, I think I will send a candy bouquet or something. I don't know. Any ideas are welcome.

I was nice to my mommy this week. After a vendor visit in my own neighborhood, I was off work a bit early on Tuesday night, so I surprised her by taking her to dinner and to the neighborhood shopping spots until she pooped out. She enjoyed it, and so did I, and I was still home by 7 in time to rest. These steroids really wear me out. I think it's harder every time I have to take them.

Things I hate about steroids: The taste of the vile things. Swollen ankles (and I mean REALLY swollen). Constant hunger. Constant eating, interrupting what was a pretty good start on some dieting. Crabby pants attitude that is obvious even to me, but unstoppable. Strange, constant feeling that something just isn't right. Fitful, light sleep. Need for more rest than usual (but no more hours in the day to do so). Steroids just suck. And if you've never been on them, you just have no idea.

Scotty's on steroids right now for his sicky. One whole week. Woo. But any steroids means evil. We should be a pretty good pair here in a couple of days.

Tell Me Again What Vacation Is For

So, I've been off work this week, a break I needed desperately. We spent the first weekend in big t-town, finishing the move of all the rest of my mom's spider-infested (ok, maybe not infested, but certainly inhabited) crap that she can't live without. The effects of neglect on the house are depressing. I cried, and i think Scott felt pretty helpless right then. Well, so did I.

And on Sunday night, my eye, which has been just kind of bugging me for a few weeks, decided to rear its ugly head. I was confined to the world's most uncomfortable recliner for most of the week, unable to focus and unable to eat (which wasn't a bad thing, necessarily). Two doctor trips later, I am functioning again. It's Friday. My vacation is over. Cuss word.

One good thing: I was feeling well enough to cart Stefanie (aka Superfit) to have her knee scoped. So here I sit, tapping out words with one hand on the iPad while she feasts on the good drugs. My eye is sore (put down the iPad, dummy) but I'm happy to be out and about on this beautiful day.

Tomorrow, I'm buying a piggy bank. Maybe I'll blog about it.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Fogelson Ln,Dallas,United States

My Kingdom for a Carb

My meat-eater husband decided he would join in the company weight-loss challenge. Let me paint you a picture: 5-foot-8 with what basically amounts to a beer gut, weighs in at 230 (which was a bit of a surprise for me, but I digress). The woman who won the competition last year lost 18 percent of her body weight.

For Scott, that would be almost 40 pounds. *Yellow flag flies as the crowd yells, "Impossible!"

But my meat-eater husband, who always knows best, says he can do it. I try to convince him that healthy weight loss will include the consuming of green, leafy vegetables. This does not fly. I change my tactic, telling him the only diet I know of that will work with his picky palate is the no-carb one. To my chagrin, he bites.

So, off to the market we go, hunters on the prowl for any and every kind of meat available to man (except fish ... he won't eat anything that swims, either). And because I plan on maintaining the "healthy" version of the diet, I get some yummy fresh veggies and fruits. Yes, I know they have carbs. I don't care.

Two days later, the house smells like fats, oils, and meat. If I never see another pork rind again, I will be just fine. I literally had a salad for dessert because my mouth was ... oily. I'm grossing out.

Moral of the story: God made carbs for a reason.

And the epilogue: He can't possibly last three months.

Poop. Then Happy Poop!

So, it was back to bowling on Thursday nights tonight. Before Christmas, I'd been bowling pretty well above my average, and my average in that league had gotten pretty good (for me). Tonight, I was pathetic. My excuse was that I (very literally; this is the truth) am seeing cross-eyed a little and it's hard to focus on my mark. So I was inconsistent at best. In fact, in the third game I scored a little score (literally little) I like to call ... 98. Stellar. I'm a clutch pitcher and a clutch pitcher, but I'll let you know here and now that you do NOT want me in a clutch situation on your bowling team.

So that was the poop.

Then the happy poop came when I got home! I won something on ebay (you don't ever really WIN, right? you still have to pay for it...) and it arrived! Here's a picture. It's "Rimpy's Bakery," the LAST piece I needed of the North Pole series to have a complete "NORTH POLE." See how there's a little "R" in the wreath on the front? If you line them all up, say, on your mantle, they spell NORTH POLE! I fell in love instantly. And for several years I have just had NO TH POLE. Next year we will be complete.

It takes very little to amuse me.

BTW, my feet stink right now. I cannot begin to tell you. Macy's cold nose is sniffing all around. I love to be home.

Smiling Dogs

On my way home from work today, I saw a golden retriever walking his human. Each had a huge grin on his face. It was great, and it made me feel all happy inside. I'm a dog person, you know.

Macy, my own mutt, was happy to see me when I got home today. She'd gotten used to me being around, and she probably had to pee. Eh, that's what us humans are for.

And, good gracious, this girl can sing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLQl3WQQoQ0. Go buy her album. Buy all her albums she puts out in her whole life. Blast them from your iPod, your car stereo, your laptop. Scream her lyrics from the top of your lungs. And think of me. I told you to do it.

Be sure to listen to this one loud, too. Sometimes us girls just gotta sing.

"Don't You Remember"

When will I see you again?

You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said,

No final kiss to seal any seams,

I had no idea of the state we were in,

I know I have a fickle heart and bitterness,

And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head,

But don't you remember?

Don't you remember?

The reason you loved me before,

Baby, please remember me once more,

When was the last time you thought of me?

Or have you completely erased me from your memory?

I often think about where I went wrong,

The more I do, the less I know,

But I know I have a fickle heart and bitterness,

And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head,

But don't you remember?

Don't you remember?

The reason you loved me before,

Baby, please remember me once more,

Gave you the space so you could breathe,

I kept my distance so you would be free,

And hope that you find the missing piece,

To bring you back to me,

Why don't you remember?

Don't you remember?

The reason you loved me before,

Baby, please remember me once more,

When will I see you again?

Vacation Finale

Today was the last day of my vacation. Dammit.

I made the most of it, though, by visiting my Mimi and making chicken spaghetti for dinner. I enjoyed my visit so much; I love hearing about what she did when she was younger that is so much like the things I do today. I also love talking about people I have held dear since birth, including my Daddy and Granddaddy. It was also my first trip to her new place, which I must say is awesome. She has plenty of room for her stuff, although there wasn't as much of it there as I'd have liked. We spent a little time talking about the treasures I get to keep that remind me of her and of my childhood, like the ceramic doggies that always sat on the shelf above Granddaddy's chair. I don't even particularly like them--they just set a scene in my mind. It's of a time when everything was right with the world.

Anyway, back to vacation. I didn't do what I intended to do, mostly because Scott's work schedule got all screwed up the last week of the year and ruined my plans. But no fear: I work the rest of this week and all of next week, then I am off the following week! Adventure awaits.

HNY, LOL

Happy new year and all that. I slept until noon, which is a rarity for me, and paid for it with a painful eye and some really weird dreams. They're worth mentioning.

The first dream involved my high school friend Peggy and her mom bringing over food. Lots of food. Scads of food. All gourmet finger foods and all delicious! All my high school girlfriends came over to try out all the food, which as it turns out, was sampling for my upcoming wedding, which Peg and her mom were planning to cater. Good times. Where were the guys? Outside playing softball. I took a little jaunt out there to see my pals and saw a lot of folks I recognized, some I didn't but still knew, and just a few no-namers. Cool.

The second dream was a bit of a continuation of the first. I was walking along the creek that ran along the back side of our house. On the other side of the creek were many apartments, some of which had been destroyed by water or fire. I gawked, then I turned to my left and saw some double doors, which in dreamland I recognized as my own house. I walked in. The foyer was large, and there were doors to two wings, one on each side. On the right was the "XXXXXXXX" wing (some guy's name I don't remember), and on the left was the "ROBERT RASH" wing. For those of you who don't know, Robert Rash is my dad (and granddaddy, but in dreamland you just know things, and this was Daddy). In the rooms I found all kinds of things, from all the clothes I had worn and discarded all my life, to Daddy's desk. It was like an antiques store met a museum. Interesting. I just walked around discovering things for a while, loving it. The director lady showed up and I asked her if I could just have some of the things (after all, it IS my stuff), and she was pretty noncommittal. In dreamland, I understood that these things were no longer mine because I had given them up. There was a price to get them back, and I don't think it was money.

So, all you budding Freuds out there, analyze that.