seriously???

"From the first Tee we knew we Wood spend the Course of our lives together..."

Do people really use this stuff for their invitations???

motb...day 95

A week ago I woke up in a cold sweat. Much like the ones I used to have preceding cantata/SHINE seasons year after year after year. A place where my subconscious fears begin to scream for attention and the familiar gnawing begins. What was I thinking? No one leaves the country for the very first time in their life less than two months before their only daughter gets married. I'm an idiot. One year ago today I didn't know how I would fill my days and now I'm wondering why they end so quickly and head into the next one. Well. This isn't helping. I need to sleep. I just thought if I vented a bit it would clear my head of all the internet shopping I've done in the last 12 hours straight without as much to show for it as I had hoped.

The more I check off the list the more it grows. I can't focus long enough to complete an entire task. Seriously.

Well. It will all be fine. Always is. But the days in between now and fineville are rapidly disappearing and that helpful planning calendar has failed me. Or I've failed it. Guess I'll hit it hard again tomorrow. Correction: it is tomorrow. Ugh.

levi: you our substitute today?
me: why yes, I am.
levi: you look like you're nice. and comfortable.
me: thanks?
levi: you look like my aunt.
me: I do?
levi: what's your last name?
me: nobis.
levi: nope, you're not her.
me: [ya think?]

sex in the city...

First of all I'll admit the content of this retired series is sometimes, okay most times, a bit "off-color" as my mom would have described it. However, Kevin and I like the show. I bought him the six season set for Christmas this year. We just finished season four, evidence that we've been spending a significant amount of our evenings since then watching one saucy episode after another.

Last night, after helping John and Shawna paint all evening, I returned home close to midnight to find Kevin watching a movie upstairs. I walked in the room and said, "feel like a little sex?" He was game. As I grabbed a blanket to snuggle up in my favorite chair I asked him why he turned the TV off. And then it hit me.

I laughed for 15 minutes. He grabbed the next DVD.

chill out...

cute when mechanically repeated by a stuffed snowball [that I happened to locate yesterday Gil, and sadly I think it died after one last sickly sounding "chill out"...]

not so cute when curtly repeated by a sleeping 21 year old who wasn't responding to her alarm to get ready for work this morning.

so I asked her as she passed through the kitchen to iron something if she'd like me to fix her some breakfast and pack her lunch while I was "chilling". don't you hate it when you've bitten someone's head off and they turn around and do something nice for you? kill 'em with kindness, that's what mom always used to say. [the sarcasm was my idea] besides, the last two nights she's been up most of the night painting so that alarm probably pissed her off and she yelled at me instead.

here's to chilling out today. a nice walk in the snow might just do the trick...

motb...day 106

mother of the bride rehearsal dinner outfit: check

navel ring: tba

This is Angela. I put her away for the season two days ago. Angela is a little heavy and awkward. She's made of sheet metal and a lead ball. She's gold and glittered. My mom dreamed her up when we were quite small. My dad crimped the wings and body and cut the holes for the lights. He soldered her together. Mom painted and glittered and I'm sure "supervised." I think she's beautiful but you have to know her. At first glance she looks a little alien I guess, not every day you run into an angel with metal hair. She made the move to my house after mom died. Now that mom and dad are both gone I can't see myself ever parting with her, just in case you were contemplating an offer. She stands watch at our front door like she did growing up and as long as I have the strength to lug her up from the basement each year that's where you'll find her. Testimony to my mom's love of angels and the nativity as well as her creative juices, to my dad's craft, skill and I must say patience and testimony to the love between them. Angela won first prize in the QND Holiday Craft show the year she got her wings and mom was always quite proud of that. Anyway, she's stored in the corner until next year and should I meet my maker between now and then, please be sure Kevin doesn't recycle her :)

this evening's menu: salmon, spinach, baked potato and seared palm. mine. youch. not the multi-tasker I used to be...

Understanding how my Kevin is wired is something that has taken me the whole of our marriage. By now, I really do think I get him, as much as anybody gets somebody else. That said, I understand why he was home from work an hour early (3:30) for 6:15 appt. this evening. Like clockwork he'll leave the house 45 minutes early to be sure to be there on time. Must be a man thing.

Anyway, he's having a laser procedure done on his nose to remove the hereditary veins that greet him each time he looks in the mirror. Not a big deal, I urged him to do it. I just have to grin hearing the shower run above me knowing that although the only bare skin involved is already exposed, he'll just feel better about the whole thing if he washes his day away first.

He came down moments ago smelling fresh and looking handsome. Thinking it might soothe his anxious nature I brewed some tea and offered him a cup. As he stood there in front of me taking his first sip, I happened to glance down and was forced to make the following decision:

Tell him now or wait until he nervously reclines for the procedure and returns home...

It was a tough call.

Summoned all that is good within me.

I giggled and told him his fly was down :)

This has the makings for a wonderful morning. For me. I think Lowery has root canal part deux. Me, I'm going for a walk with my sister, my daughter and dad's dog. It's lovely out. Then we'll all meet for lunch with my cousin and two of my aunts. It's a monthly ritual we're beginning today. We're planning to meet on the second Thursday of every month to have lunch together. And yes, we let January get away from us and are meeting on the third Thursday. Which is totally fine. After that I get my nails done and will top off my afternoon by cleaning my bathroom. All in all, not a bad day. Blessings on yours...

him: it's a hard thing being a gigless bass player...

me:

the movie in my head...

Well, she suspected the breakfast con which was confirmed the moment we entered the school and not the church. Were it not pancake-sausage season in our catholic community might have been a different story. Still, she smiled.

We managed the phone call with the fake message that the first swim event had been cancelled due to a problem with the pool heater which segued nicely into our spontaneous venture to the new outdoor mall with serious sales in progress. More smiles.

We then headed to the "pool" for the 5:00 event which required stopping for directions a bit more helpful than the ones I printed off the internet. My rearview mirror afforded the smile I was waiting for, the one that said in a sweet southern bell tongue, "Why, glory be. This whole thing was merely an elaborate scheme to surprise me with dinner at one of my favorite places, Jumer's Castle." Okay. The smile was there, even the twinkling eyes, but she quickly looked at John and said instead: "I told you so." No accent.

I must say that although she suspected, our cover story was acted out well enough to convince her we were indeed going to a swim meet. So, she was sort of surprised. Thing is, I just have to learn to stop blocking the scene in my mind before I set myself up for disappointment with no one to blame but yours truly. My girl is the polar opposite of me in many ways. When I laugh, I laugh. Usually involves some type of hand clap before, jiggling during and coughing after. I over decorate, over celebrate and over act. I'm excessive to a fault. She is more subdued, more restrained and much quieter. And as far as surprises go, she doesn't always surprise well. We learned that a long time ago when she froze in front of her elementary friends at a surprise miniature golf party in her honor. Or when she fumed in front of her party guests when I replaced normal candles on her cake with the ones that never go out. Or when we showed up at school on her 18th birthday and replaced her car with a brand-new jeep while she was in class. I should have expected her reaction. Actually, her lack of reaction. Family hidden and watching. Camera rolling. 3-2-1...nothing. Lol. Gotta love her. Just doesn't like to be surprised in front of an audience and never has.

She was pleased. Jumer's is a place we used to take our students for a nice dinner when we attended the IMEA All State Conference in Peoria. Kevin and Shawna went with me a couple times and Shawna, being the eternal princess, fell in love with the German castle style of the hotel and restaurant and has often asked to go back. We took her to the chateau style Jumer's in Bloomington for her 15th birthday but we agreed at the time, we preferred the one in Peoria. Or, as it turns out, our memory of the one in Peoria.

When I called, I requested the most romantic area available in honor of our special occasion. I was assured they had the perfect spot. We had early reservations to allow for the drive home and were the only people in the place. The host up front had the personality of a fly. Undeterred, I'm giddy in anticipation. I was just ready to cue the mental soundtrack of Rigoletto, (the Feature Films for Families musical not the Verdi opera . . . ) specifically "The Melody Within," when they lead us up the stairs right past the romantic tables with high back chairs and antique decor to this . . . well, this banquet room with nothing. I was crushed. Everyone was ready to claim their seat and I couldn't hide my disappointment. This was not my layout. My story board looked much different. I wasn't bitchy, but I did speak of my failed expectations. The bus boy was already filling our water glasses and we were still standing. Graciously our waitress gave me a tour and said I could have my pick, which is what I did. I apologized profusely, promised a generous gratuity and watched them pull several tables together for our party of nine. The manager apologized, explaining I had asked for a private room. I smiled, realizing "romantic" may mean private in some situations, but I had said romantic not private. I wanted candles and high back chairs. The chairs we got. The candles were never lit.

My filet was tasty. The gathering, intimate. Everything else wasn't at all what I had scripted. And that's okay. Apparently in the last 15 years or so, not only did my little girl grow up but the hotel changed owners. Jumer's is now the Radisson and white paint has updated the once enchanting halls. There is no gift shop, which Mr. Fly confirmed while slouching on his elbows, and the bear which loomed over us in a once darkened hallway is now locked away to keep moronic, insensitive patrons from plucking his claws out. They were kind enough to open it and let us have a look. Still looming but clawless and dusty. I hugged Shawna and apologized for the unexpected changes around us and mourned the memory of an enchanted time. The food was okay, but I can think of a dozen other places I'd rather eat. Still, I think she appreciated the effort we made trucking almost three hours each way to surprise her and celebrate what she means to us. I've just seriously got to stop orchestrating the perfect frame in this mind of mine. Life seldom antes up and actually the real stuff isn't always so bad. A significant part of what lands on the floor is some pretty amazing footage all said and done.

And scene.

grrrrr...the bear...

Awww...

Awww again...

Paper hands she made in Sunday school...

Her first swim suit...had little angel wings on the back...

Outside...

A total re-enactment since I missed it the first time...

Shawna and her Aunt Gonca...

pants on fire...

I hate lying to people. And I hate even more than I'm...well...good at it. I mean, what does that really say about me? Kevin closes his eyes when he isn't being truthful. My mom could never hold her mouth quite right. Shawna doesn't tell very many. So, where did my, uh, gift come from?

I just told Shawna two of them to start the morning off in a "whatever is true...whatever is right" kind of way, and the only thing "noble" about it at all is the attempt to surprise her for her birthday. My mom used to say that white lies were allowed at Christmas and at times like this. But I'm ashamed to say the whole fraudulent scenario rolled off my unbridled tongue like it was actually...true. In mere seconds I had successfully woven a web of harmless lies that will hold tighter than a drum. I'm that good.

In case you're rethinking anything I've told you in the past, know this: I lie only for the greater good and usually for a comedic stunt or a surprise like this one. If there's an opportunity for a few great laughs, I'm in. April Fool's Day, case in point. And it only enables my ornery tendencies if the intended victim is as gullible as the people in my life often are. Kevin's a gimme. Shawna's a pretty close second. And before you think them simpletons, consider this:

I consider my good friend Brian to be one of the most intelligent people who actually talk to me. His intellect can intimidate the best of us. Why, reading his latest post on U2 almost made me quit blogging. Like I'm wasting valuable cyber space on senseless crap and he's out there being smart. Well, this young genius can be a bit gullible for an otherwise bright sort of lad. There are several ready examples but one I'll share.

Palm Sunday 2004. He was scheduled to lead our worship that weekend and he was unable to make the rehearsal the Weds. before. In the course of rehearsal we joked about using palms and although we had used them for previous programs I wasn't planning on having the few people on team wave them that year. However. We decided it would be a good-time-had-by-all sort of thing if Lowery thought we were.

It was decided that I would tell him when I ran through the service with him later that week, and I'm proud to say by the time I worked my deceptive magic we had a believer. That phrase "hook, line and sinker" says it all. Yes, he questioned, yes, he squirmed but oh, he swallowed. Within 48 hours Mr. Brilliant was standing in the hallway "rehearsing" the palm choreography with the other guys on team. Now, granted it helped that someone had access to palms and brought enough for everyone to have one, and that there were some behind the scenes emails going on to coordinate what I had told him, but by the time the service started I had perfectly orchestrated one of my favorite pranks. As he led the team up the stairs to the stage, palms in hand, he couldn't see everyone behind him lay theirs down. Intent on his call to worship, and truth be told, concentration on whether to wave right or left first, only his peripheral vision and the grace of a laughing God stopped him before "it" was completely airborne. Nearly peed myself. Funniest. thing. ever. That, and the slow "I hate you forever" glare he gracefully aimed at the piano. I think that's my favorite lie of all time. Well, the mailbox was good. And that time I had...

I'm hoping I don't burn for times like that and I'm hoping you won't think too badly of me. You may be wondering how to ever believe a word I say or write and I have that coming I guess. Hang with me long enough and you'll hear those closest to me say "God as your witness?" A phrase my mother taught me years ago. Sucks the fun right out of a prank but it does cut to the chase. How sad is that?

Anyhow, I hope we surprise her tomorrow. She loves pancake/sausage breakfasts and she loves Jumer's Castle in Peoria. She thinks she's going to a mass in dad's honor at St. John's in the morning and to a swim meet for Emma in Bartonville after that.

Hey. It's little and it's white...

bad sun. bad, bad, bad, bad sun.

I'm not one of those mothers who would hire someone to put a hole in my daughter's cheerleading competition but I am her biggest fan none the less. I don't think that's all that uncommon or abnormal, however she may indeed tire of me staring at her and constantly telling her how much I love and adore her. It has been said I have imperfections, some I declare, others I don't, but never in the "have I told you lately that I love you?" department.

Add recent grief to middle age hormones to maternal ponderings and it equals 16. I didn't realize how many I had collected over the last couple months but when I sat down to plan for the upcoming celebration there they were: 16 cards. She's been receiving them at work every day this week. I even arranged them in order of graduating momentum into the dawning of her 21st birthday. I will never live long enough to know why He gave her to me but I know my world hasn't been the same since she landed in it.

I. love. this. girl.

And Monday is her 21st birthday.

It's really coming down! This was taken just a few minutes after the other one! 

SNOW!!! 

I'm sorry. Do they make them cuter than this? Their manchild, Carter. 

Enjoying my beautiful friends Gil & Angie at Gem City the other night. Sure miss the old days...but man, does that place make your clothes smell... 

A sad sign: Christmas is over and I still haven't put my decorations away.  

20 something / 20 something...

I had 20/20 peepers for most of my life. Several years ago I began wearing glasses for driving mostly and eventually started wearing them to see the little man preaching on the mornings I wasn't as early as planned. Recently I've had to hold my little tip card a bit further away to read the recommended gratuity and thought it time to revisit my friendly Wal-Mart optometrist. Which I did today. I'm in that territory one travels before abandoning any remaining vanity and purchases bifocals. All I can remember about bifocals is that my mother cursed them. I decided to try my hand at contacts and opted first for the mono-vision prescription. My sister is presently annoyed with her mono-vision contacts and is ready to bite the bifocal bullet. I'm not sure I'll see it through. The poor attendant should have scheduled me after lunch. Apparently they can't send you home without being able to remove a contact from your eye. Perfect. It took me an hour to even get it in the eye let alone out and right now they still don't feel right in my eyes. Right now it's just a big blur. I ordered new frames for back up and at this point it just might be the plan for me. Shawna took to the things immediately. Kevin gave up after working himself consistently into a rage morning after morning. I'll give them a chance but at this point in my life, what minutes I have to invest I'm throwing into the make-up and hair category and not the caressing of my new little taco shaped lens. We'll see. We certainly hope to see soon...

kevin slash goober...

moments ago, sitting at the kitchen counter perusing an Israel brochure and I quote:

"I'm getting really excited about this trip. I wonder if Jesus walked where Paul McCartney walked. Man, I can't believe I'll get to see the Sistine Chapel."

"Michelangelo's my favorite artist slash sculptor."
"Paul McCartney's my favorite singer slash writer."
"Jesus is my favorite God slash creator."

Yes, ladies and gents: pretty close to verbatim.

Grief is a backdoor friend. Shows up without calling, walks in without knocking. Before you know it, she's poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down for a chat. Seemingly oblivious to my life in rapid progress I pick up the phone and ask her if she's got one. She laughs knowing I screen my calls and am notorious for being slow to return them. We're old friends, the kind that go way back to high school, and although neither of us moved away, our paths only cross once in a while. [Which to be perfectly honest with you is fine by me.] Still, we know each other well enough that we're able to pick up where we left off without missing much of a beat.

Truth is I knew she was trying to reach me. Just didn't have time to go there. She's needy. It's not like I can invite her everywhere I go . . . not exactly a party friendly kind of gal and she monopolized most of my fall as it is. I do have other friends and family vying for a piece of me and she's exhausting sometimes.

The wood pile almost got me. I drove past some yard yesterday and the remnants of an old tree were laying in large round pieces on the sleeping grass and in a mmm bop I'm in dad's backyard the night he died. My internal security software successfully quarantined an emotional set back but it was noted.

The hill across from the duck pond this morning triggered something as well. Albeit the tall pines or the way Abby crunched through the dried leaves and pine cones with the occasional squirrel on the alert managed to move me. Noted.

The fishing line caught in the bare branches of a young tree and noticeable only when the Springlike rays of sun bounced against it brought her right on in the door. Or almost. Felt the familiar warming in the eyes but no spillage. Noted.

I suppose she noted it too. Thus, the visit.

All right. Hello. But this can't be an all day thing . . . I have places to go and people to see. Let's just get this over with. And next time . . . call first.

arbor day coffee...

I have made reference to the coffee that would often accompany my dad to dinner at my house or a random visit. It's Arbor Day coffee, a coffee he ordered to support the rainforest. [it's organically grown as an understory crop beneath tall tropical forest trees...] I'm terribly picky about my regular non-flavored coffee. [dad drank tanks of Hardee's joe which I detest so I was cautious the first time I brewed some of this...] I receive regular shipments of Gevalia and in between will purchase my runner-up 8 O'Clock bag of beans at the grocers. I remember my first brew of his Arbor Day. It immediately outranked everything else becoming my favorite coffee. I had no qualms about telling him I thought Hardee's coffee tasted like dirty sock water or that there was life outside mom & pop diners, so I would have told him not to bring me further shipments if it wasn't indeed the best flavored coffee I've tasted. I'm drinking my second cup as I post. We haven't stopped shipment since he died. I don't think I'm going to. I like seeing his name on the invoice and until we sell the house there isn't any harm in letting them ship away to his address. It's cool that it supports the rainforest, which he was pretty passionate about, but in all honesty it's only because it tastes that good. The fact that it will always remind me of him is lowfat cream in the cup.

ya gotta love raymond...

Sitting here listening to Raymond telling Robert how marriage is a really good thing...that through the ups and downs, through the tosses and turns, there's someone always there...no matter what...and how that's a good thing if it's with the one person you want to be there. A real poignant moment as Raymond squeezes Debra's shoulder and they share a lover's glance. Then Frank says with his finger in the air: "A minute for rebuttal."

I thought that was hilarious.

life's cycles never cease to amaze me-there manage to be days when our worlds tilt upside down before we even have a chance to place our feet securely underneath us or grab for something steady-you know the ones; like we're inside a giant snowglobe being shaken simply for the fun of it-then as quickly as it knocks the wind out of us, call it resilience or the Prince of Peace, we're turning cartwheels again-maybe the trick is learning to ride out the certain quakes with increasing grace and Job-like faith-maybe there is no trick-maybe it's the prayers of our faithful friends added to the cries of our speechless spirits reaching the compassionate ears of our knowing Father as He whispers...ride it out...I've got you-I don't know- I just feel like I oughta be finding my balance but am oddly at peace-and I never did master cartwheels with my legs completely extended and totally sucked at roundoffs-life is just really good or I'm in some serious denial...

color me canon rebel xt...

You thought I was dangerous before...now I've learned to upload my pictures from my new digital camera. Love. it. Pam and Kevin will remember how crazy I got when I first learned to use a computer and was introduced to the world of animated gifs. Goodness. I went mad. So funny. Add to that my discovery of embedding music files to my emails. I'm a nut. Anyhoo, now that I've learned to upload pics you'll just have to be patient with me and realize I'll tire of it eventually. Promise.

Below you'll see a few pics of Shawna and John's new place in process. You'll see pics of St. Francis Catholic Church and my Aunt Ginny who wanted to share the beauty of their Christmas display. [the candlesticks on the altar are in memory of my paternal grandparents.] There are pics from our Christmas weekend worship and various gatherings over the holidays. The "bobo" is the vacuum robot we gave John and Shawna for Christmas. Freaky little thing named bobo. And of course, I had to post a pic of Kev and his baby. Best. present. ever. Just ask him :) I think I could get him to do just about anything for me right now. I am in like flinn. Like flynn? Like, what the heck is flinn/flynn anyway?

Enjoy. Or not. My blog...deal with it.

the kitchen... 

the Fey's...

the Sarai...

the poker game... 

the altar...

the new dining room... 

the Aunt Ginny...dad's oldest sister... 

another Christmas Card...

the Christmas card...

the catch-up...