Friday, October 16, 2009

Laugh at the joy of a Miracle

Miracles still happen. I experienced one last night I just have to share. I'm married to a wonderful husband (that might be a miracle, but not the one I want to talk about today). He loves me and provides for me. He rarely says no when I really want something. However, for 3 years he has said no to another dog. We have 2 outdoor dogs, but it's just not the same. I was looking for a dog who would sit in my lap, greet me at the door, and tell me when it needed to relieve itself. Over the years I sent Rob many pictures of adorable dogs in need of adoption. To each one he said no. We don't need another dog...we are gone too often...the other dogs would be jealous...who would train it...he was good with his reasons for saying no. I, however, was not going to give up. I continued to send cute little pictures and drop mamoth sized hints. I asked for one for graduation, Christmas, our anniversary, and my birthday. I got nice things for those occasions, but nothing that barked and had a tail that wagged.

This brings me to last night. After a long night of class (killer accounting), I got home, showered, and Rob insisted we go to Matthew and Deb's house (my son and daughter in law). I love to see them because they are 2 of my favorite people in the world, but not dressed in my pajamas with wet hair. He insisted, so I finally agreed. We walked into their house (of course I knocked. You don't think I'm one of THOSE mothers) to find 2 beautiful dauschunds running around. After 20 minutes of playing with them, thinking they were Matt and Debs, Rob finally told me the girl was ours. Yes, a miracle occurred in our little corner of Oklahoma City last night. It may not have made the local news, but it changed my life forever. I have a beautiful new dog. We named her Annabelle. The other dogs will adjust. Rob will adjust. Annabelle will find more love than she thought possible. And I still believe in miracles. If you're still waiting on a miracle, laugh, knowing it may be just around the corner.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Laugh when you're lost in Oklahoma City-AGAIN

For the average person, getting in a car and driving to a destination is not a difficult task. I am not an average person. I have not been clinically diagnosed, only because I don't think they have a test for it, but I am directionally challenged and the degree is severe.

I recently attempted to visit a friend who had moved downtown. I got directions, got in my car, and headed out. After 30 minutes on the innerstate, I called to ask why her particular exit never appeared. To my horror, she told me I was on the wrong side of downtown. I wasn't sure where the wrong side was, but it sounded scary. She eventually led to the right side of downtown and to her street. The problem was, she lived on a one way street and we couldn't get me far enough in one direction to get to her part of the street in the other direction (no wonder I have problems). I eventually made it, then proceeded to get lost on the way home.

I made a second attempt to visit her last week. This time I was armed and ready. I had a map made by my good friend Monti, my glasses, and my cell phone. The problem becomes when I have to put my glasses on to see the map, but have to take them off to see the road, then put them back on again to see the cell phone, then take them off to see the road, get the picture. My life is just a series of ridiculous moments followed by laughter (and believe me everyone gets a good laugh).
By the way, I drove right to my friends house this time. I did not, however, ask for a map of the return trip. I once again found myself in unfamiliar territory. I called my son from my trusty cell phone and he led me to familiar territory, which is about 6 blocks from the house=).

Thursday, August 20, 2009

December 21, 2009, is the anticipated day my very first grandchild will arrive. We were blessed to attend an ultrasound and see a live picture of him. OK, so we had to squint sometimes to know what we were looking at. The tech named different parts as she passed by them. Grant was kind enough to prove to us once again he is a boy. We appreciated that. I am dizzy right now from experiencing the circle of life.

Grandmas are suppose to have grey hair, be able to cook delicious food, and be available 24 hours a day. How can I be a grandma. I have brown hair (O.K., there's a little grey in there, but that will be our little secret), my cooking leaves my family begging for take out, and I am working full time AND going to school.

But...I am young enough to run and play with Grant, I am working enough to afford many trips to McDonalds, and school will not last forever. Maybe I'll work out O.K. after all. My husband Rob already fits the grandpa role quite well. Grant WILL have the best parents in the world, of that I am certain. He will be surrounded by many incredible aunts and uncles. He has another set of grandparents who are amazing. He has great grandparents who are still young and fun.

O.K. Grant, I think we're ready. We will all anxiously wait for December.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

My baby is 16!

How could I let this happen. Just last year I was chasing a toddler around the house, changing her diapers, playing polly pockets with her. Today she is 16 years old. Now I must face the terrifying 3 D's; Driving, Dating, and Dependence.

Driving: She is learning to drive, but has not yet mastered it enough to take the test. 2 years sounds like a proper amount of training time.

Dating: She has no interest in dating at this point, for which I am most grateful. She says she is not spiritually or emotionally mature enough for a relationship; nor does she have the time. Thank you Lord for a wise girl. If that attitude could last through college graduation, I would be most grateful.

Dependence: Dependence is always bitter sweet. She manages her own checking and savings account, does odd jobs for extra income, makes decisions about her classes, and manages her own time to a large degree. I know, however, the tug and pull of future decisions will soon be upon us. Lord, help me to be wise.

I'm still not sure how it's possible to wake up one day to grown children, but here we are. We are blessed, and she will be fine. It's me and her dad I'm worried about!

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

First day of Homeschool Co-op

We were up early and preparing for my daughters 1st day of co-op. It's her junior year. The rain poured as we swam to the car. I handed her the keys, not because I want her learning to drive in the rain, but because she has to learn to drive in the rain. We arrived on time, and the great reunion began. Groups of children congregated, hugged, and shared about their summers as they compared clothing styles and hair color. Over a hundred children and parents began unloading school supplies, children, and teaching supplies. The excitement was intense.

Since I work full time, I help the co-op in creative ways. This year, my assignment is bathroom duty. Getting the bathrooms in order and stocking toilet paper and paper towels may not seem like a big job to you, but I realize the importance and will take my job very seriously. Going to the bathroom only to find you have no toilet paper can be traumatic. Washing your hands and finding an empty paper towel dispenser can leave you with wet hand prints and your pants.

Of course I wish I was a lead teacher in a big class full of eager learners. My full time job is a necessary blessing, and they are very understanding, but missing a full day each week would not go over well. So I will enjoy my bathroom duty. I will be the best supplier of tiolet paper to ever darken their doors. Then I will get in my car and head to work, leaving over a hundred happy children behind, knowing their trips to the bathroom will be good experiences.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Laugh when you are too tired to move a muscle

Haven't written in awhile. Not because nothing humerous is going on in my life. I'm just so tired. Tired like when you get a flat tire in 110 degree weather and have to change it (not that I could actually change a tire). Tired like when you run 3 blocks to catch your run away dog who ends up right back in your front yard. Tired like a crazy person who decided to work full time and do the master's program.
I think I could sleep standing up in a tornado (which is not entirely unlikely in Oklahoma). But there is no time. So for now, I will just be tired. I will dream of a day in the near future when I can wake up when my body wants me to. A day when I can lounge in my pajamas, eat breakfast at lunch, and watch reruns of Monk all day. A day when the homework isn't due, the dog stays home, and the car is safely parked in the driveway.
May all of you enjoy the hours of sleep to restore your body and laugh at the fact that we can still function on 3 hours instead of 8! Laugh with me.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Laugh when someone points out the obvious to you!

I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent human being. In some circles, I may even be considered smart. Common sense, however, sometimes evades me, and I am left looking I was robbed of my common sense.

Take, for example, the most recent time I ran out of gas (yes it is a frequent occurance but in my defense, the gas guage is broken). I was only two blocks from the house. I was able to pull up next to a curve. We were pressed for time, so I called Rob to see what he wanted me to do. He said he would just come and pick me up and we would head out to our appointment.

When he arrived, I got in his car. My question to him was, "Are you sure it's OK to leave the car here?" His response to me was, "It's out of gas, Rhonda. Who is going to steal it?"

Ask me about disease symptoms and cures...ask me about grammar and punctuation...ask me questions about the Bible...but don't expect me to be guided by this mysterious thing called common sense.

I have excuses for this lack in my life. I have too much going on, lack of sleep, Oklahoma is a highter altitude than Texas, I chew too much gum, I get too much sun, I don't get enough sun, it's too windy outside...

I am now in a Masters program. Among many things I hope to gain over the coming months, I hope a large dose of good common sense sinks in. Of course, I'm not sure what I would write about if I had it all together. I'm not sure what my family would laugh about.

Until that time comes, I will laugh at the obvious that I seem to miss. I am satisfied in knowing the many health benefits of laughter. Laugh with me.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

SPT-Laugh at Something Borrowed, May 19th

Back in January I was diagnosed with dumping syndrome. Not a pretty name/even worse disorder. Most victims of this illness have recently had gastric bypass surgery. I am the exception to the rule. I just have it. Medication and treatment keep it under control most of the time. The treatment involves laying down after each meal. If I stayed home all day every day, this would not pose a problem. Working full time did pose a slight problem.
We are all out of beds and couches at our office. I was not sure how this was going to happen. A friend here at work heard about my dilemma and came to the rescue. She loaned me this chair. It is a zero gravity chair (which does not mean it floats). It is designed for people with back problems. It is light weight and folds flat for storage. What a blessing it has been.
Of course, our offices are being remodeled. My new problem is finding a place to unfold my chair and lay down. Many days you will find me wandering the halls during lunch dragging my chair behind me looking for an empty room. Eventually I find one. Because empty rooms don't stay empty long, I have startled a few people as they entered the room. The look on their faces is cause for laughter. I will have this disorder forever. I have altered my life to accomodate this illness. I could cry, but I choose to laugh. Laugh with me.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Laugh When You Shop with Your Husband

It's almost Tuesday again. It's been a busy week at our house. It was not all work, however. Friday afternoon (I left work early), I took my graduation money and went shopping. The problem was that I took my husband with me. Don't misunderstand, my husband is wonderful. He will do anything for me, including suffering through a shopping trip. And he did.

How do I know he is suffering? About 15 minutes into the first store, his eyes begin to droop. He has already conquered the men's department, the automotive department (if they have one), and is now in my section "helping me" pick out clothes. I see the dissappointment in his face when he pulls something off a rack and I shake my head no. It doesn't matter to him that it is either too big, too small, or looks like it came out of my grandmother's closet. He is encouraged when I head for the dressing room with an arm full of clothes. He sets in the chair outside the room anticipating the trip is coming to an end. On the other side of the dressing room door, however, I am morified at the site of cellulite, pants too small or too big, shirts that feel like a straight jacket, and nothing that even comes close to fitting my body . Where are the women they designed these clothes for? There must be a lifesized Barbie prototype.

I leave the dressing room and hand the lady behind the counter all the clothes I tried on, and turn to find my husband almost in tears. Are you sure none of those fit? Not even one? I try to pretend I don't notice his state of desperation and quickly go back one last time to my department. This time he does not follow me. After round two is complete, I go to the front of the store to find him sitting in a wheel chair, a shopping cart, a wall extension, or just leaning against the wall.

I pay for the one thing I did find, and go to rejoin him. He asks in a faint voice, "Where to next?" Home is the only option, considering his condition. By the time we arrive home, his condition has improved and he is ready to conquer the remote control, the hammer and nails, or putting golf balls in the yard.

To the many husbands out there who endure shopping trips, I just have to laugh.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Something New, May 12, 2009

My something new surprised us last week. My husband noticed it first. These small black mounds all over the wood on the front porch. I thought it was dirt. He gave me a closer look. I was mortified to find out it was termites.

Termites are like something out of a horror movie. Every night while we sleep something is eating our home. They multiply quickly and take over. Our only hope is to call a local exterminator. They come out, dollar signs in their eyes, to rid us of the pesky little monsters.

Well, the appointmment is today. I am praying they have only slightly taken over. I pray our home is salvageable.

I am thankful though. I am thankful my husband knew what they were. I am thankful exterminators know what to do. Most of all, I am thankful we can't see them up close.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Laugh when the new exercise video comes in!

Here I go exercise video. But this was not going to be like all the others. After all, the friend who told me about it is in great shape (although she was probably born with those defined muscles). I don't want a body like Nicole Kidman, I just want to be strong enough to carry a gallon of milk from the car to the refrigerator.

My husband asked what had been charged from I had to tell the truth. He responded with a rolling of the eyes. I was so glad he did not say what he was thinking. His thoughts may have gone something like this...why do we have an exercise bike, a Gazelle, and a Total Gym in the garage, not to mention the library of dvd's entitled Buns of Steele, Abs of the Alps, Arms that don't wave twice.

I started this video a couple days ago. The woman leading the video, the one who talks and walks around while we sweat and die, is from The Biggest Loser. She is a mean woman. She has no sympathy. I make it through 1/2 of the routine before falling to the floor in a heap. Noelle, my 15 year old, kept saying "Mom, are you O.K." My mouth was as tired as the rest of me. I managed to utter a small yes.

Last night was the second time doing this routine. I was determined. I talked Noelle into doing it with me. She lasted 5 minutes. I decided not to let the mean woman intimidate me. She probably grew up with a bunch of brothers, or came from a rough home. Though at times I wanted to die; Though I often saw those spots in front of my eyes; Though my legs were like jello; I did it. 20 minutes of nonstop brutality. I was so proud. My daughter was again standing over me asking if I was OK. My husband, who sat in his chair on the laptop the whole time said a weak "good job, honey."

I will face this giant again tonight. The good news is I am determined. The bad news is I am only on the first of 3 levels. My hope is that this too will not fade into the library of dvds of the past. It will not join the exercise equipment graveyard of my house. And most of all, I will be strong enough to carry that gallon of milk to it's destination swiftly and effortlessly. I'll keep you posted.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

SPT- May 5, 2009 Laugh at Something Old

"What is it?," asked one of my highschool drama students as I pulled it from my box of props. Another student answered "It's an ancient phone." I think it was the word ancient that added 20 years to my life that day.

I did grow up with a phone just like this one. I didn't remember it being quite so heavy. I do remember how fun it was to dial the numbers and watch the dial go around. When did this phone become obsolete? When did we trade in the 20 lb dial up phone for the modern lightweight push button? Here we are 30 years later asking, "What is that?" I fear someday they'll be saying the same thing about me.

P.S. For those of you who read yesterdays post, I now know (thanks to a good friend and coworker) what a mohill is. It is actually a mole hill. She even provided a picture for me. Please tell me someone else out there didn't know that! I've just gotta laugh.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Laugh when you want to cry

Today is just one of those days. Nothing serious has happened, I'm feeling fine, but a few simple circumstances have created this desire deep within me to sit in a puddle of tears for time. Call it self pity, overeacting, mountain out of a mohill syndrome (what is a mohill anyway?). Since I am at work, and since many people would not understand the reason for my tears, I will choose to laugh.

I can laugh at the fact that I have a dog that needs counseling. I could laugh at the bird that attacks me when I get too close to his nest. I can laugh with my friends and family. Yes, I need a good dose of laughter for this day.

Tomorrow will look better. It always does. For today, I will dig deep inside to find precious laughter. I also plan to talk with the Lord, who eases my burden and laughs and cries with me.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Laugh at the possiblity of regular exercise

I have been starting a regular exercise regimen for the past 20 years. I usually begin AGAIN after making a large purchase of the latest and greatest piece of exercise equipment designed to make me look like a perfect size 6 in 4 easy payments. By the fourth payment, the piece of equipment is dusty in my way.

I also begin a regular exercise routine each time I purchase a new DVD with a fit and trim instructor on the cover. This purchase usually happens late at night when infomercials are the only things on the television. They need to create a video that holds you accountable. I now have a collection of useless videos in various parts of the house.

A coworker got me interested in running. I began a program with a combination of running and walking, designed to help you increase gradually. Each evening I would run around a few blocks, come home unable to breath, seeing spots in front of my eyes, and feeling like I would loose my dinner. It is hard to make torture a part of your regular routine.

The questions I ponder today; Is there a perfect exercise routine out there? Do those ladies on the DVD's have perfect bodies, or is the cellulite just airbrushed? If so, can't I just borrow the airbrush?

I will continue my quest to find the perfect exercise, while watching my muscles shrink and my cellulite grow. If by chance I find it, I will be sure to share the news with everyone (including those poor movie stars who find their cellulite posted on the cover of People magazine).

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Laugh when you don't know how to say "no"

Help, my plate is full and I can't pick it up! I am a recovering yes person. I have years of treatment ahead of me before I will recover. While I love everything I am doing, I fail to recognize the limited number of hours in the day or days in a week. Consequently, I find myself and my family leaving early in the morning with enough changes of clothes, homework, and sacks of food to last until the 10 o'clock news time.

This week has been no exception. How it happens is a mystery. I just seem to wake up one day with an overflowing calendar of events, and off we go.

Someday soon I will practice saying "no." I'll start in front of the mirror. I'll work on my tone of voice and my eye contact. After building confidence at the mirror, I will eventually face the person for whom the word "no" is to be said. With fear and trembling, I will utter that word. One of two things will happen as a result. I will either be blacklisted from all events and friendly gatherings, or the person will find an equally capable individual willing to do the task at hand.

I'm quite certain I need more practice in front of the mirror.