First Day Musings -- Indulge Me

from Bing images

We have been clearing out the Mister's brother's belongings these past two Saturdays. We have learned many wonderful things about him: he kept thank you notes from the elementary schools where he spoke on the court system (he was a lawyer); he was an avid Civil War buff (a major Confederate General is in the direct family line); and, he felt emotions very deeply. We have also learned that he was a collector and saved nearly everything he touched. This means we have made two huge loads of just magazines to the dump.

As another piece of what I have been pondering is the class trip on Friday. We saw the base poverty of the coal miners and yet how the women tried to make home pleasant with flower beds and handmade items such as doileys and quilt as well as hand embroidered towels. And, I listened to a colleague explain to the class how "having a good credit score is great! You need to have all the credit you can get!" I begged to differ and actually got to say one sentence: "The borrower is slave to the lender." Personally, I would rather do without than lose my freedom by owing money.

All this has me thinking about choices and how I will be remembered. There is a lot of clutter in my life: stuff, projects, people, negative thoughts, bad habits, and, sometimes, an overwhelming annoyance with other's negativity. A few weeks ago Brenda at Coffee, Tea, Books and Me had a great post about how we never know when someone is inspired or touched by us. It might be something as simple as keeping flowers on the porch, but someone will see it and be inspired. I want to be that inspiration.

Thus, I have decided the following:

I will not use the word SHOULD any longer.

I will surround myself with positive people.

I will sit down when I tired or sleep when I need it.

I will avoid activities that I have no passion for.

I will be responsible for my choices only.

I will eat dessert.

I will use treasures such as decorative candles, note cards, or my good dishes instead of saving them.

I will return to singing "The Doxology" every morning when I open the blinds.

Will you join me??

The Fatted Calf

The Airman will be home tomorrow for a two week visit before he ships out for a long while... a long way away...

And so, we are getting the fatted calf ready for him. I have cleaned, shopped, and planned meals galore for him. Then he tells me, "Mum, don't bake for me. I have to keep in shape while I am home. When I get to my new duty station I have some hardcore Physical Training to complete and I need to keep my weight down." Now, what do I do with a pound cake AND cookies?? Chickens or goats??? I think both will enjoy them!

In the meantime, here is something fun for you to watch:

Working in a coal mine...

Today we took a class to the Beckley Coal Mine Museum in Beckley, West Virigina. Of course, it was snowing. Lots. This is a photo from their webpage that gives a deceptive look at the weather... but, anyhow...

It was a fascinating trip. We toured the mine in coal cars! The exhibits included a well restored coal school (for the miners' children), the church, the superindentent's house, a single man's house, and a married family man's house. Coal was king in this part of the world and miners worked hard for very little. It is true that they "owed their soul to the company store." They were paid in script, which was company money, and it was only good in the company store. Why they couldn't even tithe with it as the church would not accept it!

If a man were killed in the mine, his family would have two weeks to leave their home, which was owned by the company, unless there was another male family member to take the dead man's place. As in every other part of the U.S., women had no rights at all in the mining community. Everything centered around the man and his relationship with the company. Women had to make do with very little for their families as every item in the company store was marked up. Usually workers ended up owing money at the end of the week or brought home less than a dollar.

The Union came into this region in the 1920s and organized the workers so they would earn a better wage and to break the company structure -- home ownership and script. And, provide for much safer mines for the workers. Workers were typically paid 20-cents per ton. Most miners earned $2 a day in 1920. Do the math. Isn't that tragic??

Although we live less than 100 miles from the mines, most of our students had no idea about the extreme hardships these people faced. It is a powerful thing to connect with one's culture. Trust me, I think a bus load of students returned home feeling pretty doggone blessed! I did!


Enjoy Tennesse Ernie Ford singing "16 Tons" with some great photos of actual miners!

Give Me A Break!

My new best friend:

In the midst of all the other drama of the last two weeks, our refrigerator died. Not the freezer. Just the fridge. Yeah. I was thrilled.

Needless to say, this necessitated cleaning out all the, hmmm, food and washing down the old one. It was a youthful 15 years old and I was quite attached to it. I knew just where my hand should be when I reached in for an item. The shelves were just the right size and place for my habitual reaching in and out. We were sympatico'.

Now, though, I am having to learn a new friend. There is no egg drawer. None of the refrigerators we looked at had one. There is a butter door, but no egg. What sense does that make? And, the shelf adjustments just don't offer the range the other one does. But, it is bigger. And cleaner. And shiner. And weighs a whole lot less than its predessor.

So, I am learning it and it is learning me. For example, the door is so much lighter that it no longer closes on its own. As a result, I can no longer sneak in and grab something without the Mister knowing. I have to be vigilant in making sure the door closes or I am busted. And, as there are not the same shelf levels, I have no secret hidey hole under the cheese door for my candy. Then there is the whole issue of every shelf and drawer being completely clear. How am I expected to hide my treats if the whole thing is transparent?

I think I see a pattern here... and I am not sure I like it. This new refrigerator is co-conspirator with Weight Watchers. Can't a girl get one break??

Those Three Dreaded Words

Van Gogh's "Potato Eaters"

"What's for supper??"

I hate trying to come up with meals, do you? I have tried menus and planning. I have tried holding out for just cereal. And, I have tried being a Sunday planner for the week. Nothing holds my interest.

Personally, I could have a milk shake every night and be quite satisfied. But, not the Mister. He wants meat. Lots of meat. Bleh. Salads would be good, but he ends up hungry an hour later. And, since we are doing the Gazelle Dave Ramsey Plan, we don't like to eat out more than once a week for any meal -- Thursdays -- breakfast -- Aunt Bea's.  $6.76 every week. No compromise.

Anyhow, I have grown weary with meal dodging and have decided I need to either enter a 12-step program for Meal Haters Anonymous.... or, I need to come up with a cunning plan... or exploit other's ideas.

So, how do you handle this challenge??

Random Thoughts....

It snowed yesterday. Two inches.

Today the sun was shining and it was 60-degrees.

What's up with that??

If I were clever, I'd show you a picture of something wonderful. Tonight I am not clever. I am tired. Bone tired. Why can't women sleep sitting up like men?? Doesn't their neck hurt? Don't they drool on themselves? How do they do that??

I have decided that if I get a redo of my life, I am either coming back as a poodle or a Southern man. Either has little sense and both are over indulged.

Good night!

Being Female Ain't So Bad

Last night, after a very sudden illness, the Mister's brother died.

The last four days have been surreal and we have not even begun to really understand what happened. And, yet, there is one thing I am completely grateful for: being a woman.

As four women stood around him as he prepared to leave us (and, honestly, the Mister was there so we can make him an honorary woman), I realized something amazing: women are there to bring life in and we are there to hold hands as it leaves. What a gift. No man can understand the fullness of this wonder.

Think of it.

We alone know the life coming from us. It is the one true time we are the vehicle for God's greatest miracle. Women alone can know the intimacy of that life: we feel it; we talk to it; we love it long before it has a face.

And, on the other end of the chain, women alone are the ones who stand in service and preparation for life to leave. We are the nurses, caretakers, preparers (until modern times when the undertaker undertook our responsibility), and planners. We make sure the life is remembered fully and, we carry in our hearts the memories of watching that life leave.

As our dear one left yesterday, he opened his eyes and looked one last time at the first face he ever saw. Somehow, it was fitting and proper. It was sacred.

This is my favorite song. You will recognize the voices as they are the girls from the movie "O Brother, Where Art Thou." Enjoy.