What's On Your Refrigerator?

You know that commercial where we're asked, "What's in your wallet?" Well, I prefer to play, "What's on your refrigerator?"

On ours is a sort of collage and, truthfully, my favorite part is that old photo of Eunice, Esther and Ella, all sisters out for a special day back in the early 1900's. I also enjoy the button next to it given to me by Wilma, my buddy. It says, "The men of Mayberry" and I smile to see their faces. Naomi's graduation photo cheers me, she in her tie-dye, purposely holding her guitar backward. The camera caught her as she was and still is, our daughter who was voted that year, Most Unique Girl.

But as I stand there mixing a cake or waiting for toast, I also appreciate  notes Tom and I have scribbled, reminders to keep us on the straight and narrow. On one card I wrote, "Never assume anything! Make clear requests and give precise directions always." (remember my post about that test?). Another card says, "Tom, Pay attention!" 

And no, I didn't write that one-- Tom did. Honest.

There's also a card which Dolores sent me that declares the British, "Keep calm and carry on." That one greatly helped me during my final, overwhelming months on the farm while Grace finally convinced me it was time to leave.

Below that is a magnet from Joyce Meyer reminding me to be a risk taker and I wrote another card due to her influence which says, "Remember, excellence matters." Because it does, you know. Aiming for perfection makes me insane, but aiming for excellence in daily tasks is do-able. Less stressful, surely.

I also wrote "Pro-activity!" upon a card to remind us both not to be so lazy, which is tempting in this phase of our lives, what with living in a home with easy upkeep and Tom's not going out to work a 'real job' and our both being in our fifties and slowing down. (Waaaaay down on many days.)

To me, this refrigerator collage is like always keeping godly things before us so we'll be careful to do them. Tom and I need reminders like these and placing them upon our refrigerator is helpful, especially since our memories aren't exactly what they used to be.  シ

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So what's on your refrigerator?





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Milkman Woes

(Smile while you're reading this, ok?)

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Every once in awhile a person just has to complain. Today it's my turn.
Gah!

You know how there's this big cell phone craze going on? Well, I just don't get it. Could be because I've always hated making phone calls (receiving them is fine). Didn't like making them as a child, a teenager, a young mom or an anything else. My reasons are many and varied. I. Just. Don't. Like. Making. Phone. Calls.

Okay. Got that straight?  シ

Well, back down on the farm, I signed-up with good ol' Bob The Milkman to deliver milk and a few other items like orange juice and cottage cheese. I'm sure you remember Bob--I even showed you his old-fashioned truck once. Anyway, at his family-run business you can either call-in your order or leave a list on your milk box (with the empty glass bottles) of items to bring the following week. You can also just give them a one-time list so they'll bring the exact same things weekly, but Tom's and my needs seem to vary too much for that option.

So after reading my I-hate-phones story, you can guess which method I chose. The any ol' scrap of paper list method. Only twice in three whole years did I forget to leave my paper note and so had to call the dairy.

But you know? In all those three years, Bob never, ever messed-up. He never forgot me. Never lost my lists. Never got confused at just what I was trying to accomplish there.

But here at Hobbit Cottage? I think Bob's son, Tom, hates me. He can't get anything right.

Drats.

Twice I left paper lists for him and both times he didn't show-up the following weeks.

Now, before we moved here I thought I understood that if we failed to call or leave a note, the driver would at least show-up to take a new order if we were home at the time. If we weren't home, then we were charged $1.50 because he'd traveled there anyway.

Well, I did forget to leave a note the first week, but thought, "Hey. I'll just be here when Tom stops by and give him a list and he'll take the things from his truck." Yet uh, no. He never showed. And ok, I was all right with that. As in, note to self: always leave a note or (gulp) make a phone call, otherwise Tom won't show-up at all.

So I called my order in the next week, Tom came, then left with my list for the following Wednesday.

Except the following week he didn't show up. Argh. But I thought, "Okay. I'll just show mercy this time. Maybe he lost my list. Stuff happens."

So I had to phone-in my order again, not a big deal unless you just don't like to make unnecessary phone calls. Which I don't.

Then the next week I again left a paper list, Tom took it, and then the following week he again ignored me. Drove right by. Zoom.

Razzle frats! So then I had to again call the dairy, this time telling them whenever I left lists (as I had with Bob for three happy years), Tom didn't show up the following weeks. The woman (his mom maybe?) said she would check into it when he came in for lunch. Well,  four days later she called me back and said Tom now gets it--the written lists are for the following week. He thought they were for the present one. Everything would be fine now, she promised, and if I'd give her my new list now over the phone, Tom would bring me those things then take my written list with him on Wednesday and bring those newly listed items the following week.

Finally I had hope. Finally I could stop calling the dairy and go back to the way things used to be with good ol' Never Made A Mistake Bob.

Yeah, right.

Today ol' Tom comes and leaves me only what was on my new list on the porch for next week. Meaning he must have put the cottage cheese and half-and-half back into the truck (because they weren't written on next week's list), meaning I'll have to make an extra trip to the supermarket because who can live without half-and-half in their decaf? Not me, anyway.

Sigh. Maybe this is 'just another one of those things'. Like the latest one--having my Facebook profile hacked and choosing to bail-out and not regretting that decision a bit. Almost like that verse which says something like: "What satan meant for my harm, God meant for my good."

So although I've loved supporting a local farm, and using the glass bottles and fewer containers (though yes, they do get recycled), and even though I so love the vintage convenience of having our milk delivered during our treacherous snowstorms, perhaps this is confirmation that it's time to cut the old-fashioned dairy delivery, loose. 

And maybe this is also a sign that Tom The Milkman should have gone into some different business other than the family one. heh.



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NancyR reminded me of something: On each written list I have always put "For _______ (the next week's date)." I guess I should do as she suggested--add FOR NEXT WEEK  in large letters. Great idea! And why didn't I think of it? Probably because I never had to do that with Bob. But hey. We can't all be Bob. Some people just need an extra bit of help.  シ


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Perhaps It Was Mostly The Feelings, After All

So Lucy Ricardo's grandmother made-up a word for when you're not really sick, but just feel lousy--dauncey. And that's how I felt yesterday. Just plain dauncey.

But today? I feel incredible. How good to feel good again!How good to feel good again!
You've probably noticed I'm not big on writing about come-and-go feelings, as in, letting them influence our decisions. I'm more into living according to what God, the Bible and Grace lead us to do. Going with something more sure than a wispy feeling.

But this morning I'll veer from that just a tad, ok? Just. A. Tad.

See, I've watched Dr. Phil a few times (forgive me. heh.) and I've seen him counsel distraught/confused/depressed people that what they really crave is not the awful husband/boyfriend they once had or the wonder years their children were babies or the forever-lost friendships, relatives, houses or money.

No, he says what they're truly missing are the wonderful feelings they had during the good times with those people, places or things. They miss how those special times made them feel.

And you know? There's so much hope in that concept. I mean, if you are wishing your children were still young and adorable, well, uh, that's not gonna happen. Sorry, but children cannot 'un-age' (de-age?). Yet! God can provide ways for you to again feel the happiness you remember feeling while interacting with young children. What remains is for you to ask God to help you discover them.

It's that holding onto the Past that trips us up like a long blanket caught between our feet. That if-it's-not-exactly-as-it-was-I-don't-want-it-ness of it all.

Lost the friends you used to go out to coffee with? Miss those hours of chatting around a table at that cute cafe? Ask God to provide new friends who would love to go to coffee with you. They're out there. But don't sit around at home just wishing they'd knock at your door. It's quite rare that this happens. It can (I've heard a couple neat stories), but more often the ol' 'you have not because you ask not' comes into play.

Miss that special house you once owned? Ask God to provide creative ideas so you can make your present house feel just as treasured. Pour yourself into your home and you will be rewarded.

Miss a relative now gone through death? Become to someone else what that relative was to you. Find someone to help as your loved one cared for you. 

I consider all my readers to be quite intelligent so I'm sure you get my point. Rather than mourning for what once was, we can ask God to help us create a new life of possibilities. One that may appear quite different than our earlier decades, but one perhaps more rich and rewarding than what we've experienced so far.

Hey, with God, just about anything is possible.




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The photo? I added that bit of stenciling over the painting last week.



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"Thou hast turned my mourning into dancing for me, thou hath put off my sackcloth and girded me with gladness."   ... Psalm 30:11



"We need more backbone, not wishbone."   ... Joyce Meyer


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