paintbrushes--no good can come of this

I have talked about painting my family room and kitchen for probably 3 years. I try not to rush into things. Actually, I try to outwait my husband on starting the project, but when it comes to painting the man is a master of avoidance. He enjoys a good painting project about as much as he enjoys routing kidney stones through his abdomen.

This week was the universe conspired to allow me the time, energy, and resources to attack the walls with gusto. Chad was gone for a week, so no one was going to be driven insane by days of upheaval (I can live with complete chaos if it works for a greater good). I had a week off, because I'm sure at one point I considered doing something really FUN while the boys were gone. I had two remaining children home to assist me (yeah, that never works out quite in the Utopian fashion I envision).

I picked the color--a very mellow butternut gold, very pretty--did you know that yellow is one of the most difficult colors to paint and get even coverage? I know that now. I bought the paint, which only required 3 trips to Home Depot and 5 discussions of various paint attributes, primer/no primer, finish (hmmm, satin or eggshell? It's just so hard to decide!), roller nap, frog tape or blue tape? Nylon or natural bristle brush? PEOPLE I JUST WANT PAINT AND A WAY TO PUT IT ON MY WALL!!!!!!

Next we move furniture. Let me say up front, I detest half the furniture in my family room. I have a behemoth of an entertainment center. Five piece of lovely oak, way too big for the room, takes up an entire wall, and clearly the wood components have a cement core because it takes Two Men and a Truck to move it. But I am going to single-handedly empty the cabinets and drag all those pieces to the center of the room, making it impossible to quickly maneuver a ladder anywhere near where I want to be. The new arrangement also assures the most unique arrangement of shadows on the walls--a real boon to the amateur painter.

Let's talk about this ladder. I borrowed this from neighbors who mentioned it could be a little intimidating. This is not your run-of-the-mill ladder. It is a BOSS. I am convinced that it serves as a means to painting the evil 12 foot vaulted ceiling only while waiting for the emergency signal from Optimus Prime. At that point it morphs into a silver Mini Cooper and races to save the word from the evil Decepticons. Luckily, there were no interplanetary invasions while I painted.

Then, there's the removing of the outlet plates, and the spackle, and the sanding, and the spackling again, and the crack repair. It has been at least 10 years since we painted. Amazing what a family of six can do to walls in that amount of time. No matter how much time and energy goes into repairing, there will be at least one major chunk out of the wall which wont be discovered until you paint over it.

Two days later, I am finally ready to actually paint. First the ceiling. It is a tall ceiling. 12 foot high. I am not a tall person. Luckily, my Transformer/ladder allows me to perch at the top of a 10 foot tower and hang half-upside down in order to trim out the peak, while dodging the fan blades --yes, I turned them off--and blinding myself with the lights. Once trimmed, I can roll the ceiling, again leaning half backward so the paint spatters directly into my eyes instead of just on my hair. Thank God for Becca, who is significantly taller, and enjoys the flexibility of youth. Good times. Do you see a spot that I missed? Look somewhere else.

Walls require more trips up the magic ladder, and a pointless attempt to trip the peak without messing up the newly painted ceiling. Do you see small drop of yellow on that fresh white canvas? Might I suggest you look OUT THE WINDOWS! Hmm, this is not really covering in that "covers in one coat because you sprang for the ridiculously expensive world renowned paint-and-primer-in-one that they advertise so much." In fact, it covers well--in three. Here is where Felicity jumps in. For about an hour, maybe two. Then she discovers she doesn't like the smell of paint. more good times.'

Three days later, it is finished. I have abandoned my desire to paint my kitchen, for now. There's this wallpaper, see, and it has to be stripped off. I accomplished 15 feet or so, in about 2 hours, and I figure I have a few more daysweeks before those walls are ready to go. Then I have to move all the crap off my counters. And I really would like a backsplash. These countertops are so shabby. Can laminate cupboard doors be painted? This floor has taken a beating. What do you think about a new fridge, and maybe putting it over there? We could put in a breakfast bar......

Giving my heart to a dog to tear.

"Animals are reliable, many full of love, true in their affections, predictable in their actions, grateful and loyal. Difficult standards for people to live up to."
~Alfred A. Montapert



I have been contemplating another dog. In theory, it sounds like such a warm fuzzy idea, but I am well aware of the obstacles to dog number two--the primary obstacle being dog number one. He has not responded well to the introduction of two male dogs in the past. Of course, neither of these dogs were "planned"--one was a stray "drop" who showed up on our doorstep, the other a dog my daughter *had* to save from being euthanized because his owner irresponsibly had him in a rental which did not allow dogs. Rusty was overwhelmed by both situations, fearful and withdrawn, on edge, not at all happy. I know it will take some research, some time, and a real knowledge of canine behavior to integrate a second dog, although I do think a controlled introduction and careful choice will yield better results. If I get ready to make that jump, I have identified some folks who can help me be successful.

What this is all leading to is my recent introduction to the world of dog placement. I am just seeing the surface of the HUGE problem of pet overpopulation in this country. It is overwhelming to think about. I want to save them all. Shelter personnel are ridiculously underfunded, understaffed, undertrained, and overworked. Dogs are euthanized because shelters lack space, people and knowledge of how to fully assess a dog's qualities. These folks are doing the very best they can, but in many communities only a fiercely devoted group of volunteers are on hand to handle a problem much greater than their ranks. Rescue groups, GOD LOVE THEM are stretched to the breaking point trying to pull dogs from kill shelters into foster homes in the hopes of finding permanent placement. No-kill sanctuaries house dogs who remain isolated, withdrawn, and are difficult to socialize as there are just not enough people to help. This is not an isolated, regional problem, but a crisis which crosses the country, knowing no boundaries. It is a problem created by humans, and it must be solved by humans.

First and foremost: STOP SELFISHLY BREEDING PETS! Spay and neuter. early. always. No bitch, whether purebred or mixed, needs to "experience motherhood" in her doggy lifetime. Dogs lack the emotional history to define motherhood as an inalienable right to which they are entitled. A dog's life will not be more fulfilled by producing 5-10 puppies who will then be removed from her care and need homes, often landing in the shelters. If your human children absolutely need to "experience the miracle of birth," for heaven's sake turn to your library and local cable channel before sacrificing a litter of pups. Get guppies. Hell, give 'em a sibling.

Consider, too, how important it is to have that purebred show dog who will never be shown any place more fancy than your sidewalk, or the overpriced hypoallergenic designer boutique dog which is nothing more than a platinum coated mutt. There are beautiful animals in rescues and shelters just waiting for a second chance with a person who will love them and care for them, returning that love 100 fold. 4 MILLION dogs are euthanised in shelters each year. Adopting a shelter dog means one less life is lost simply because time ran out. Don't support the puppy mills and irresponsible breeders who put income over integrity with little thought to the outcome above the almighty dollar.

Consider fostering, or sponsoring, for a rescue. Many shelters allow rescue organizations to pull dogs from their facilities without cost, but these rescues need foster homes in place and financial support to do their work. Rescues and shelters need supplies, funds, transport, and people to help with networking and organizing events and fundraisers. Volunteer at a shelter. Their paid positions cannot possible cover the amount of work required, and local municipal shelters are typically the first to lose funding and the last to receive it. Call your local Humane Society or Animal Shelter and ask about their needs. Support the next adoption event, dog park bash or bake sale. Every person can make a difference. Find out how, and act on it.

Thoughts on Fatherhood

I was blessed with two of the finest fathers I know. The first got stuck with me--I had no choice in the matter, but God knew what he was doing. This is the second year he's been gone, but I am left with a lifetime of memories of "Wild Bill" and the knowledge that he truly cherished the role of dad to me and my brothers. He was a good man, a good father, one of the best.

The second God chose for me, too, but first I had to figure it out for myself. As the old adage goes, sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. The reptiles were in great abundance on my trip down that path of enlightenment. God kept pushing me onward until I could finally see the one he had chosen for me had been there all along (we wont get into the bass-ackward journey my prince was taking at the same time). When we married, he knew he wanted 2 two children. I thought he really should want six. We split the difference. I think our four wonderful, charming, frustrating, typically extraordinary children realize (most of the time) how truly blessed they are to have him. His love for them is unconditional, his patience is rarely lacking. He guides, nurtures, worries, prays, and occasionally pulls them up short to knock some sense into them, because fatherhood is also delivering the messages they need to hear, not just the ones they want to hear. He is not perfect--who is? He works too hard. Loses track sometimes. But he knows the most important job he has also has the most profound and lasting effects. He sons will be better fathers because of his example. His daughters will know how high the bar can be set when choosing their own princes. And his wife, who shares the road with him, knows he is her greatest blessing on earth.

Men across the country today will be honored for serving in the role of "Father." Without getting into political discourse on what constitutes fatherhood (because let's face it, even the very essence of parenthood can be turned into a debate of ridiculous proportions), let's agree that there are many ways in which a man can find himself taking on the challenges of fathering a child. Let's just say thank you to all those who serve as fathers, pledge our support in helping them with that role, and acknowledge that it is one of the most difficult and important things a man will ever do. Father, grandfather, brother, uncle, friend, mentor, by blood or devotion, God bless you all. Happy Father's Day!

What I learned from Freshman Year

I had three freshman in 2011-2012. That's a lot of newness for any parent, not to mention the three offspring. Freshman year is a time of new beginnings, new paths, new directions. It is a time of challenge and growth. It is a time for parent and child alike to take stock and look for things which inspire passion and joy. There's a lot of change and adjustment to be weathered! And weather we did.

My first chick left the nest 5 years ago. He never really came back, just because that's the way his schooling worked. He was a baby then. He's not anymore. He's all grown up (with an occasional lapse into his interrupted adolescence) It was hard when he left, but clearly that faded in my memory, because I was totally unprepared for the kick in the gut on the departure of chick #2.

My first "middle child" has always been fiercely self-reliant, even when she was young. She did not often require hugs and cuddles. She valued her space. Once she chose her college, she was ready to leave. I knew there would be some adjustment, but she'd be OK. So she left, and successfully morphed into a newer, more grown up, even more independent chick. I learned she would share more with me from far away than she did while she was under the same roof--a good thing. I learned that she would listen, even if I thought she didn't hear. She has come home for the summer. Another adjustment. We're still trying to figure out what the new roles are for everyone. I missed her. I'll miss her when she leaves again. In some ways, I still miss her, because I'm still figuring out who she is. But this new woman in my house is pretty amazing.

The second middle child entered the first year of high school with something of a weight on his back and little tolerance for academic pursuits. He loved what he loved, but classes, homework, tedium were not high on that list. Then St Henry's happened. I learned that a new environment can change the world for one person. I learned that a young boy needs much different things from his teachers than a young girl does, and male teachers can add a dimension to the education process that an all-female group can not match. I don't know where to give credit--teachers present, teachers past, music, drama, Divine intervention, dumb luck, or a combination of all that and more. Whatever it was, I am eternally grateful. The boy walked out of his first year with a new confidence, new friends, new love for school, new faith, new passions to pursue. We like him, this new young man. We'll keep him.

The baby's Freshman year proved to be a turning point. Such excitement and high expectations greeted the beginning of the school year, but it took a while to get under way--about 4 extra weeks, in fact. When it did finally start, she joined her classmates in makeshift classrooms in borrowed space, not the best of circumstances but making do with what they could find while awaiting completion of their new school. She was off to a great start, and took on the challenge of the accelerated program with excitement. Somewhere along the way, that dimmed. I learned that my baby chick, when under stress, reacts physically. She was sick, and sick, and sick again. She could tell me she wasn't happy, but lacked the life experience to know why or the clarity to explain it. Had it not been for some tremendous new and old friendships, I think she'd have crashed and burned. Her friends, and a couple excellent educators, kept her afloat, and engaged, and helped her regroup. She finished strong. When faced with a decision to go back again, or take a different path, she struggled. We considered making the decision for her, but thought in the end it was something she had to choose for herself. I learned my daughter makes decisions like her mother--with much second-guessing. Only time will tell how she likes this new path, but she's thinks it's the right one for her, and so, then, do we.

I am taking stock of my own freshman education, too: Never underestimate the ability of your child to change--just when you think you have them pegged, you'll discover something totally new; Birth order makes a difference; Personal space, what is in it, and what isn't, is important; Each child requires a unique type of nurturing; Children never stop discovering things within themselves that bring them joy; Parenthood is about guiding, choosing, supporting, and loving unconditionally. You will make mistakes. It's OK; and most important, God will be there to hold you up, because he already knows how this all turns out, and he entrusted these little people to you anyway.

Simple summer pleasures

I have not driven a carpool in 2 weeks!!!

Ladies and gentlemen, if there was never another reason this summer to smile, that one little fact might just pop the limit on my happiness meter.
But, just like a late-night infomercial...wait! There's more! So here, in no particular order, are several more reasons to celebrate this wonderful season of waiting for nothing more sinister than the mailed final report cards. :)

*home grown tomatoes with chopped basil from my own garden
*the swim club
*dinners on the back porch
*naps on the back porch
*sipping tea on the back porch.
*hell, let's just celebrate my FABULOUS BACK PORCH!
*hummingbirds and butterflies
*walks with the dog at the park
*not arguing about homework
*grilling
*trading in my boots for flip-flops
*empty coat hangers in the closet
*farm market produce so fresh it's still coated with dew
*ice cold watermelon
*the smell of freshly mowed grass (ah-chooo!)
*Michigan weekends relaxing outside with the extended families
*painted toenails
*bonfires in the fire pit
*sleeping with the windows open
*washing cars in the driveway
*The Alpha with the top down
*bare feet
*frozen sangria

I need to keep this list handy for those days when it tops out at 98 and I'm wishing for winter. Summer has its own joys--I need to remember to look for them, embrace them, and allow them to wash over me when those dreaded August tuition bills arrive.....

We're awaiting a little miracle

This spring, for the very first time, I have a hummingbird nest. It is about the size of an egg cup, and it sits in the Y of a maple tree branch just a few feet from my back porch. I hoped to have a picture to post, but my camera just isn't capable of that kind of zoom from the best vantage point, and taking it from the porch means shooting through the screen, which doesn't work well either. Besides, the little winged mama is not so happy with having her picture taken, and she zooms from the nest if she senses we are too close to her little home.

From what I can see, the eggs are not yet hatched. She comes and goes, but I see no signs of her feeding any little ones. I saw a male hovering about for a couple days by the feeder we hung, but haven't seen him in a while. Not a lot of activity at the feeder right now, unless you count the ants.

I find myself very excited, and very protective of my little family. she is a good 25 feet from the ground, so the neighborhood cats are not such a worry sitting in wait. The branch on which she nested is too small to hold the weight of a tree animal, so I think she is safe in that regard. They are forecasting storms tonight, and I worry about the nest being tossed and blown in its skinny branch. I fear she could lose her eggs, or her nest, entirely. I'm worried about my little family! We'll be saying an extra prayer for her safety, and the safety of her babies.

Nature is often a miraculous thing, but we don't have a, pardon the pun, bird's-eye view to its wonder. It took 48 years for me to have the opportunity to see such a gloriously small creature waiting patiently for her chicks to hatch--and I may never have the chance again. But this spring, for a few weeks, I can say I am watching and waiting in delightful anticipation as God produces a miracle right outside my window. Be safe, little mother, in your little nest, and God hold you close "til your little ones can take their own flights into the summer sun.

literary circles in grey shades

I just finished a marvelous book about a POW in WWII. Unbroken, written by Laura Hillenbrand, chronicles the life of Louis Zamperini from his childhood, through his days suffering as a prisoner of the Japanese, and his eventual return to life in the US and his struggles to come to terms with his experiences. This was my book club choice for May, and I am delighted to have read it.

Last month, we shared in the reading of Proof of Heaven? by Mary Curran Hackett. We were fortunate to be joined by the author at our meeting, and her insight into what she was thinking made a few things clearer to me. I could not get as deeply into the story as I wanted, being held up by a few trite character attributes and plot points which are way overdone--think 9/11, Irish Catholic alcoholics, etc. But still, the premise was worthy, and the story made one think.

We've also read The Five People You Meet In Heaven, and who doesn't love Mitch Albom? Sarah's Key, another WWII setting but this time fictional and completely different in mood, scope and story, was a worthy first choice read.

I've thrown in a few "junk" choices--gearing up to start my summer things-to-read-by-the-pool stack from the library. I tend to find an author I like, then just plow through most, if not all, of his or her works. Amish weddings, quilting clubs, chick-lit and classic love stories, I read them all.

That brings us to the hot choice of the day. 50 Shades Of Gray. I have read a few interviews with the author, who is laughing all the way to the bank. What started out as a piece of fan fiction taken very loosely from the Twilight series has now generated 2 sequels and a lucrative print deal. The movie rights have been purchased with actors lining up to take on the complex role of the leading man who has a thing for whips and chains. I have read varied reviews on the story line. It's been called everything from "steamy" to "mommy porn." some reviewers have found a story buried among the paragraphs of BDSM frolicking. Others have failed to find any redeeming fictional value. From what I've read, a fair number of reviewers didn't bother to look for a plot at all. They got from it exactly what they expected, and seemingly that was sufficient. Social commentary runs the gammut: pundits are pointing to our sexually repressed society as a reason we cannot just enjoy what is really just erotica in the mainstream. More conservative thinkers are calling it disturbing. All agree that sex sells, and this sex is selling.

My book club did NOT choose this a one of our discussion reads. For that I am glad. I don't think I'd be able to discuss sadomasochism no matter how much wine was served at my next meeting! But I did receive my library notification this afternoon that my requested copy is available (hey--I requested it WAY BEFORE I had done any of my homework, simply on the recommendation from a friend). I think I'll pick it up, just for research sake. That's what most of my friends are claiming, too. Curiosity. I want to read it just to see what all the hype is about. It's not the subject line so much, but it would be wrong to condemn it without first reading it.

And to think we laugh at men who say they read Playboy for the articles.