Tuesdays

Today is Tuesday, and I had the day off. But I've had mixed feelings all day, because I've really come to love Tuesdays.

Tuesdays = Showbiz Kids.

Last week my little group of Showbiz Kids put on their year-end show, so now we're done. I really enjoyed this group, and I miss them already! How could you not love these sweet faces?

So now I'm gonna have to find something else to do on Tuesdays. Maybe those windows I've been putting off since 2004 will finally get washed. Or maybe not.

Dixie

Grateful

As I left my house earlier today to make a quick dash to the store, the thought came to me to take my cell phone with me. (You know, the little thing I almost always forget to take with me -- or actually turn on if I do remember.) I decided to ignore the thought because I was in a rush, and would only be gone a few minutes anyway. The thought came again, so I went back inside, retrieved the phone, and continued on.

On my drive home from the store, I happened to glance over to the opposite side of the street. Just at that moment I saw a man on the walking trail take a nose dive. He fell face-first onto the cement.

"Ouch! That's gotta hurt!"

By this time I had driven past, but as I looked back I could tell he was not moving. I was in a busy lane of traffic, so it took me awhile to find a pullover spot, but I got out my phone and dialed 911.

I was actually surprised at how calm I was as I reported the incident, gave directions for the paramedics, ran back to the scene of the accident, and flagged down the approaching ambulance. Normally I'm the type of person who would get all flustered and tongue-tied in a situation like that, but I felt like I was receiving some extra help from above.

I'm grateful for that extra help.

I'm grateful that I received the prompting to take my cell phone with me.

I'm grateful I heeded that prompting.

I'm grateful that the paramedics arrived so quickly.

I'm grateful that the man was conscious -- albeit, not coherent -- when we all arrived, and was well on his way to receiving the help he needed.

I'm so grateful.

Dixie

I Stand Corrected

Editor's Note: Today's post features a guest blogger. Apparently someone *cough*Daughter #2*cough* feels she needs to put in her two cents. Here it is:

Dear Mom,

I settled in to read this highly anticipated blog post, ready to have a good chuckle about this silly little scenario (which may or may not have emotionally damaged me, but that’s neither here nor there). After reading through the entire post, I came to one conclusion: clearly you are delusional.

First of all, you stated that you came across the Nike shoes in the exact shoe size of Daughter #2. Being Daughter #2, I can emphasize that unless my feet at age 12 were a Mens size 8, they were definitely not the exact size.

Secondly, even after the jiffy-marker job they were hardly a perfect resemblance. The kind of Nike shoes I wanted looked something like this:



The shoes you found for a mere $2 looked exactly like this:


While I appreciate your effort and enthusiasm, the chic-black-and-white low-tops were much more in fashion than the puffy-foam-stuffed high-tops.

Also, you left out the best part of the story. After the not-so-permanent marker wore off in the snow my peers teased me so badly, I took those silly high-tops off, left them in my locker, and walked around in my socks for the rest of the day. And then waited until everyone left the school before putting them back on to walk home. In the snow.

Despite my teasing, I feel the need to commend you for #1) being a bargain shopper, hello shoes for $2! And #2) for keeping me in mind whilst shopping. Keep up the good work. I now wear a size 7. That’s Ladies.

All kidding aside, this story really does show how great of a mom you are. A mom who would do anything to help her daughter feel loved and popular. All for only the small price of mass humiliation.

Love Always,
Daughter #2

Feeling Guilty

So, after my last few posts about my mom, I'm feeling a little guilty. Did I sound like an ungrateful, spoiled daughter who only cares about my own feelings? I sure hope not, 'cause I love her so much. And the older we both get, the more I appreciate everything she's done for me and everything she represents:

• She's incredibly honest.
• She's reliable.
• She's a very hard worker.
• She's a friend to the underdog.
• She's a woman of faith.
• She loves to have fun.
• She's extremely frugal (as illustrated in several of my stories.)
• She's amazingly creative (as also illustrated in several of my stories.)

The point is, I can't think of anyone else who I would rather have for a mother than her. And just to prove that she's not the only mother who can embarrass her daughter, here's another story:

In 1996 Daughter #2 was in the seventh grade, and black and white Nike high-tops were all the rage. How I would have loved to have been able to afford to get a pair for her and her older sister. But at $100 a piece, and our tight budget, that was never going to happen.

One day, while browsing at a second-hand store, I came across a pair of hardly-worn Nike high-tops in the exact shoe size Daughter #2 wore. Okay, so they weren't black and white -- they were, in fact, entirely white -- but nothing that a black permanent marker couldn't fix! And for only $2, how could I resist?

When I got them home, I whipped out a jiffy marker and quickly transformed them into a perfect resemblance of the real thing. The $100 real thing! When Daughter #2 came home from school, I showed her the new shoes I bought, and she loved them. She could hardly believe that they once used to be completely white.

The next day as she wore them to school, she was feeling pretty good. When the other kids looked at her feet with a smile, she assumed it was because they were impressed with her "coolness". It wasn't until later in the day when she looked down, that she realized her shoes were dripping black ink.

I guess "permanent" markers aren't so permanent when you walk in the snow!

Dixie

More About Mom

In an effort to wrap up this past week of Mother's Day stories...

STORY #6

When I was young my hometown sponsored a fair and rodeo every August. My mom always believed in supporting a good cause, so she thought we should enter a few categories wherever we could. Since none of us were competent bull riders, and our dog, "Daisy", suffered from low self-esteem, and didn't like being subjected to pet competitions, we usually had to enter the baking categories: We never really planned on winning, we were just supporting the fair.

I'll never forget the year Mom entered some category. (For lack of knowledge, let's just say it was baking powder biscuits.) When we arrived the next day to see the judged results, we were thrilled - not to mention surprised -- to see that Mom had won third prize!! She'd finally won a ribbon - sure it wasn't a first or second place ribbon, but at least it was a ribbon. She was SO pleased......that is, until she realized she was the only entrant in that category!!

And because this next one was specifically requested...

STORY #7

About 10 years ago The Mr. and I had taken our kids to go spend a little time with my mom. It was a busy morning, and everyone was getting ready and eating breakfast in shifts. I was upstairs pouring myself a bowl of cereal while The Mr. was shaving in the downstairs bathroom. As I sat down to eat, I could see that my cereal was moving!! Upon closer inspection I discovered it was crawling with weevils.

When I informed my mom of the bad news, she immediately started boiling up water in every pot in the house. Within minutes she was heaving potfuls of boiling hot water into the cupboard in hopes of killing the weevils that might be lurking there. Water was EVERYWHERE! Pretty soon, from the bathroom below, we could hear The Mr. yelling, "Ow! What's going on? Ow! There's scalding hot water pouring out of the ceiling all over me!"

Now I realize that my mom's response was a little over-the-top. Most of us would have handled that situation in a slightly more subdued manner. But, seriously, where's the fun in that?

And yes, I DO check the cereal very carefully before I eat it!

Dixie

Making The Best Of Every Situation

For those who have been following the stories of my mom, let me just say that it's not just me that she embarrasses. She can embarrass anyone -- even herself.

STORY #5

Fast forward about 15 years to the summer of 1993. Daughter #2 was spending two weeks with my mom -- it was her turn for some one-on-one time with Grandma C.

Mom thought it would be fun for the two of them to do some baking, and then take it to her friends at the Hutterite colony. (Now at this point, may I just say that, similar to sewing, baking is not one of my mom's strong points. But I'm sure the ladies at the colony would at least be appreciative of their visit.) Anyway, they decided on baking powder biscuits.

Midway into the recipe, my mom realized she was out of baking powder so she and Daughter #2 went down to the storage room to retrieve some more. My mom found some in a jar labelled "1974". When Daughter #2 questioned whether or not they should still be using it, Mom responded with, "Oh, sure. Baking powder never goes bad." They took the jar upstairs and finished their baking, then rode their bikes to deliver their wares.

When Daughter #2 arrived home, she told us the story of using the outdated baking powder, and hoped it was okay. Then, a couple of weeks later, she got a call from my mom saying, "Do you remember that old jar of baking powder we used for the biscuits? Well, it turns out it wasn't baking powder after all. It was wallpaper paste!!

(No doubt it was last used for a certain snare drum carrying case creation.)

Dixie

Another Story

STORY #4

Growing up in a small community, we didn't have our own daily newspaper. The newspaper we got came from the city 45 minutes away. In the '70's, the newspapers were completely black and white. There was only one colored picture per year -- on the front page -- and it was always a picture of the same event: Whoop-Up Days. So every July the newspaper would feature a colored picture of someone screaming on one of the rides, a child devouring some cotton candy, a cowboy getting thrown from the back of a bull, etc. For me it was always kind of exciting to see who would be featured on this one colorful newspaper each year.

One summer when I was a teenager, my parents and brother were going in to Whoop-Up Days to attend the rodeo. Two of my friends and I also drove in to the city with them. Our plan was to go to the midway. After determining the meeting place and time, my parents gave us strict intructions to NOT BE LATE, as my dad had to get up early the next morning. We set off to have some fun on all the rides. And have fun we did! In fact, we were having so much fun that we lost all track of time. When I finally realized what had happened, I determined we were over an hour late for meeting up with my parents. It would be an understatement to say that I knew my mom would not be pleased!

I told my friends that we needed to hurry, and began walking as fast as I could hoping they would keep up. They didn't seem to sense the urgency as much as I did. Soon enough I saw my mother coming towards us with a determined look in her eye. When she saw me she said, "There you are!", and picking up a twig off the ground, whacked me across the back of the legs. I started jogging. At this point my friends picked up their pace a little to try and keep up, but still keep their distance from us so as not to be associated with us. My mother turned around to them and said, "You better start moving, or I'll use this on you, too!" They broke into a run, and actually passed me.

I remember the 45-minute drive home being an extremely quiet ride -- no one spoke the entire time. The thought that kept going through my mind was, "Please don't let me be the colored picture in the newspaper tomorrow!" When the paper did arrive the next day, you can bet I ran to check it out. Apparently the stars and planets must have been aligned in my favor, because the picture was only of the ferris wheel all lit up. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that I wouldn't have to worry about a permanent reminder of this eventful night for the rest of my life. Kind of. I may not have the paper reminder, but I have two friends who still love to bring it up for a good laugh.

Dixie

I Love My Mom

I really do love my mom. I just needed to clarify that..... in case any of you have gotten the wrong idea from my last couple of posts. Also, my mom is a really good sport, and so it's all good. The fact that she doesn't own a computer might also be in my favour ;)

STORY #3

My first high school dance was pretty exciting. I spent quite a long time getting ready -- I wanted to look just perfect to make a good first impression. It was early September -- a beautiful evening. The weather had been gorgeous all day, and my mom was making the most of it by working in the garden. As I called out to say goodbye to her before leaving, I chuckled to myself as I took note of what she was wearing: a pair of plaid pedal pushers (old-fashioned term for "capris") and a paisley-print shirt. A bright pink chiffon scarf covered the curlers in her hair. "Oh well," I thought, "at least she's just in the backyard -- no one can see how hideous she looks."

I arrived at the high school and was soon on the dance floor with the very boy I hoped would ask me. I had developed a pretty bad crush on him, and was hoping he liked me too. He was a year older, so I really wanted to make a good impression. After only a few more minutes he nervously asked, "Um, isn't that your mom over there?" I looked toward the gymnasium door and was horrified to see my mother standing there -- wearing the exact clothes as when I left her -- calling my name. "Dixie! Dixie!" You didn't clean your room before you left like you promised you would."

I was too embarrassed to try and cut a deal with her, so I just left as fast as I could so that she would have to leave also. I went home and cleaned my room, and to be honest, I can't even remember if I went back to the dance, or not. I suspect it was a case of trauma-induced amnesia. One thing I do remember, though: I never made that mistake again!

Dixie

Happy Mother's Day (again)

Here it is...

STORY #2

When I was in sixth grade, three other students and I were selected to play the snare drum in the school band. How awesome was that? Anybody could be selected to play those other "boring" instruments, but I was about to become one of the "cool kids" -- a percussionist!

The band instructor sent us each home with a brochure to show to our parents. It contained all the information we needed to order our very own snare drum, complete with a convenient carrying case. After taking a quick peak at the brochure, my mom decided we would take a trip into the city and purchase a used drum instead. As it turned out, the used drum we bought was actually pretty good, but it didn't come with a carrying case. Mom assured me she could make a case for it that would look even better than the ones in the brochure.

On Monday morning as I carried my new drum case into the school, I tried to hold my head high and act like nothing was out of the ordinary. Inside I was dying of embarrassment. Mom had covered a cardboard box with some left over '70's wallpaper, and used an old bathrobe tie as a handle. Somehow I didn't feel quite as cool as I had anticipated.

Dixie

Happy Mother's Day!

At the beginning of the week, Daughter #3 and I were in the car with the radio on, when a request came from the deejay asking for people to call in with an embarrassing story about their mother. The person with the best story was to win some wonderful prize. We both looked at each other and burst out laughing. To my best recollection the conversation went something like this:

Daughter #3: Mom, you've GOT to call in about Grandma.

Me: Which story would I tell?

Daughter #3: It doesn't matter -- they're all good.

Me: I know they are, but I don't know if I should.

Daughter #3: Mom, do it.

Well, I thought about it. In fact I've thought about it all week. There are so many good stories about my mom that I figured I would post one story each day for a week to celebrate Mother's Day. So, here goes:

STORY #1

When I was in third grade, our elementary school was putting on a Spring Concert. Our class was assigned to dance to "Turkey in the Straw", and each girl needed a full skirt for our number. When I informed my mom that we would need to buy me a new skirt, she replied that she would just make me one. I was a little concerned as Mom wasn't an accomplished seamstress. As the other girls began showing up to school with their new skirts, I was becoming more and more worried because my mom hadn't even started sewing. When I reminded her about the skirt, she promised she'd have a skirt for me in time for the program. And, sure enough, she did. Mom had constructed a very full, pleated, skirt with a large bow.......out of crepe paper and staples!! With 20 minutes to spare, there was no other option -- I had to wear it. The giggling and mocking that took place when I arrived at the school was pretty hard to take. And that was just from the teachers. As we took our place on the stage and waited for the music to start, I hoped no one in the audience would notice my paper dress. That hope was soon dashed when I realized all the snickering in the audience was directed towards me. Even the other kids in the dance were giggling at me. Who knew crepe paper "shooshed" as it brushed against a person's legs?

Dixie

She's Growing Up (Sniff)

Last night Daughter #3 bought her first cell phone. I suppose that fact in and of itself is not really blog worthy, but there's a bigger issue here. For the past several years, when all of her friends started getting their own phones, she made a conscious decision not to get one. Later when some of them moved on to their second phone (and in one girl's case, her third and fourth), Daughter #3 was even more determined that she wasn't going to get one. She was afraid she might become addicted to the thing, as they had seemingly become. I asked her several times if she minded that she was one of only a handful of teenagers left in North America who hadn't joined the 21st century. She said it didn't phase her a bit.

So imagine my surprise when she woke up yesterday morning and asked me if I'd like to go to the mall with her later that night to pick out a cell phone. As I tagged along, she impressed me with her presence of mind. She went to all the different retail outlets, spoke to the salespersons, got the brochures, and made an informed decision. Even the sales clerk who rang up her purchase complimented her on her maturity of doing it all on her own. I sensed she was pleased with herself.

A few minutes later, as we walked down the mall, I happened to glance over at her. She had that same look on her face that she and both her older sisters had when they first got their ears pierced. I could almost read her thoughts. It was something like: "Okay, act natural, don't look too excited. But, man, I'm SO cool now I can hardly stand it!"

So now that she's joined the 21st century, I guess I probably should, too. Not only should I learn how to text so I can keep in touch with her, I should probably actually remember to take my phone with me. And turn it on.

Dixie

Things Are Looking Up

For those of you who know me well, you'll appreciate the new image at the top of the side bar. It pretty much says it all when it comes to my lack of computer skills. I have never been (nor I'm afraid ever will be) tech-savvy. The ironic part of this is the fact that I actually figured out how to post it to my blog on the first try!

Have a good one!

Dixie

Living Vicariously

Today was one of my favorite days of the year -- "Musical Theatre Day" at our community's Music Festival. Each year I always take the day off and just sit and watch all the classes from morning until evening. I love it! Of course it helps that for the past several years one of my own daughters (lovingly referred to as "Daughter #3") has been an active participant. I'm a little envious that I never had the nerve -- not to mention the talent -- to have done it myself when I was young. I guess I'm living a little vicariously. I hope that's okay.

Performing "Jimmy" from "Thoroughly Modern Millie"

Performing "Ring Them Bells" from "Liza With a Z"

I'm already looking forward to next year!

Dixie

Road Trip

A short while ago Daughter #3 had a week off school, so she and I took a little road trip. Not only was it tons-o-fun to share this time together, but she now has her driver's license, so we got to share the driving, as well. Our first stop was at the home of Daughter #1 and her family. We were looking forward to seeing the two little guys who live there. Can't you just see the mischief in their eyes?

Speaking of eyes, maybe watching "New Moon" was a little too much! (You might have to click on this one to get the full effect.)

A little bonding between sisters:

Our next stop was at Grandma C's. She was rehearsing for her latest gig at the barber shop.

Daughter #3 kept asking this guy to dance, but he just ignored her:

In honor of April Fool's Day, my brother packaged up a ratty old wig in one of Mom's "Paula Young" wig boxes and told her that it had come in the mail. Thinking her most recent order had arrived, she was a little put out when this is what was in the box:

I made everyone try it on to see who looked the funniest.

And the prize goes to:

We got a bunch of the girls together to celebrate Grandma M's birthday at a restaurant in the city. Of course I forgot to get a picture of us seated around the table. By the time I remembered to bring out the camera, we were the only ones left:

We found out a few hours too late that Daughter #2 had been in the city (at the same time we were there) passing time until she was to be at a wedding dinner. She could have joined us, but I had no idea she was even in town. That will teach me for not calling her before I left! We did manage to link up the next day in the Easter candy aisle at Wallmart before we headed out of town.

A little shopping, and a stop at our favorite Chinese Buffet rounded out the trip.

We arrived home in time to spend Easter with The Mr. and Sons 1A and 1B. The response to my healthy easter basket hunt was a little less than enthusiastic. Still, it made a great fruit salad for our Easter dinner.

Thankfully, that trip to the Walmart Easter candy aisle was a little more appreciated than the fruit!

Dixie

A little over 30 years ago I set off on a new adventure -- I was on my way to college, taking with me not only a lot of courage, but pretty much most of my earthly possessions. My mom made sure I was well equipped, and relinquished some of her older kitchen ware for my use. (Some well-worn muffin tins, a cast iron frying pan, a half-broken toaster.) Nothing was too good for her daughter. In with the mix of supplies was this little beauty:

The Better Homes and Garden "New" Cookbook was hardly new when I received it in 1979. It was, in fact, a wedding gift to my mom and dad in 1952. Just the same, I was happy to have it, as I really knew nothing about culinary procedures. It had everything in it -- canning and freezing techniques, information on all types and cuts of meat, a list of ingredient substitutions, information on quantities for feeding the masses, etc.

Over the past 30 years that book has become a second bible to me. Not that I'm a great cook, but I know that if I ever need any information in the kitchen, it will be there. So for the past several years this prized possession has started looking a little worse for the wear. Both front and back covers have come off, many of the pages are dog-eared, and several have even fallen out and gone missing. Fast forward to 2010:

I've seen the updated versions of this book in stores for the past few years -- usually at Christmas --and always wondered if I should put it on my wish list. (Suggested retail price of $49.99) I guess the cheapskate in me always figured I could get a little more use out of my old one. A couple of months ago, however, I was at Homesense and found the updated version of this book on sale for only $7.99. How could I resist buying it? It was new. It was shiny. It was obviously in much better condition than the old one, and upon closer inspection it not only seemed to have most of the same information, but even a bit more modern information added to it. I went home pleased with my purchase, showing it off to The Mr. and everyone else at home.

I'm sure it's a really great cookbook -- I even gave it a place of honor on my shelf. And yet, two months later, I still can't bring myself to throw away the old one. We've been through a lot together, and somehow it wouldn't seem right to just throw it out. Almost as if I were being unfaithful. Hmm....

Dixie

Kids, Don't Try This at Home!

The Mr. enjoys eating a couple of boiled eggs for breakfast most mornings, so I happily fix them for him. Yesterday, I figured I would be smart and boil four eggs instead of two and keep the others for the next day. All he would have to do is just peel the shells and warm them up in the microwave. Fast forward to this morning, when he placed the peeled eggs in the microwave and went back to reading the newspaper. It wasn't long before we heard a loud EXPLOSION. Upon opening the microwave door, we discovered little bits and pieces of egg EVERYWHERE!! Apparently you're not supposed to put boiled eggs in the microwave. Who knew? I think a warning label might have been nice. What a mess to clean up!! It makes me wonder if there's a conspiracy among microwave manufacturers to purposely withhold all warning labels just for fun.

P. S.

It didn't help that at the time of the explosion, The Mr. was reading an article about terrorists who are lurking in suburban neighbourhoods. Funny!

Dixie

Sunday School-itis

Daughter #2 and her husband are off on a week-long adventure of sea, sun and sand. They stayed overnight on Friday so they could catch a flight early the next morning. In their hurry to get to the airport, they left behind a couple of their belongings:

(This is where I would have inserted

a really cute picture of their two

children, but we changed computers

from Windows to a Mac, and I can't

figure out how to post a picture!!!!)

On Sunday morning as I was getting the kids ready for church, it was obvious Hayley was in no mood for being happy. Often when her parents leave her, she misses them so much that it seems she is able to make herself physically sick. I wondered if that was starting to happen. Well, we took her to church anyway, and she was pretty much lethargic through the whole thing. Even in her little "Sunbeam" class for three-year-olds she refused to eat the snack provided, sing the songs, or look at the pictures the teacher was showing. I figured I was going to have a sick little girl on my hands for the next week. When we returned home, however, it seems she had made an amazing recovery -- she was completely healed!! If I didn't know better, I'd think someone was trying to get out of going to church.

Can't really blame her, though. I don't like 9:00 church, either!

Dixie

Spoiled

I was recently talking to a friend who was talking about how blessed she felt. She used a phrase that caught my attention. She said, "I feel like my heavenly father is spoiling me". What a neat thing to say -- not just "blessed", but "spoiled". I love it! I think her terrific attitude is one of the reasons He is spoiling her.

I'm feeling a little spoiled myself these days. Here are a few of the things that are making me smile:

1. March is here, the sun is shining, and we've had some pretty incredible weather the past few weeks. Gotta love that!
2. 14 Gold medals! Not too shabby for a polite little country who is used to taking a back seat.
3. The Mr. He's been SO helpful to me lately. I can't help but love him more and more.
4. Great kids. Love 'em to pieces!
5. My grandkids are coming in four days. Looking forward to having their cute little faces around for a while.
6. Just got back from a fun little winter get-a-way with The Mr. Didn't go anywhere exotic, and had to mix business with pleasure, but it was still tons-o-fun.
7. Showbiz Kids is extremely enjoyable. The kids are a lot of fun, and I think they're going to do a great job!

Life is good!

Dixie

Thoughts of a middle-aged mind

I have an obsession with my age. I've known about it for the past eight years, but it's really starting to get on my nerves. If it's bugging me, it must really be annoying my friends and family.

When I turned 40 it was a real eye-opener. Inside I still felt like I was 25, so it was hard to believe that I could really be as old as those other 40-year-olds. I remember having all these thoughts running through my mind:

Do they all feel like they are 25, too?
Do I look as old as her, 'cause I know she's 40?
I wonder if he's 40. He still looks pretty good.
Did my mom feel this way when she turned 40?
What if I look a lot older than 40?
If this is 40, what's 50 gonna be like?

This went on for quite some time until it dawned on me that I was now getting closer to my 41st birthday than my 40th. Then when I was 41, Daughter #2 got married. Granted, she was only 19, but her husband was several years older, so this made me feel really old. Again those thoughts:

I can't believe I'm old enough to have a married daughter -- and a son-in-law!
Do I look as old as other mothers-in-law?

It didn't help that a few months later they announced that The Mr. and I were going to be grandparents. Amidst all the excitement, I still had these nagging questions:

Do I look as old as other grandmothers?
What if I look older than other grandmothers?

A short time later Daughter #1 got married, and within the next few years we ended up with four grandchildren. I love them to pieces, but still... A GRANDMOTHER OF FOUR!! How could that happen when I still felt so young?

The summer before last we were at Calaway Park standing in line to buy tickets. With horror, I read the sign that indicated once you turned 50 you would get the senior rate.

SENIOR? PLEASE!! The Mr. is going to turn 50 next year, and he is far from being a senior.

And if that wasn't bad enough, when I got to the wicket and asked for three tickets, the girl responded with, "Are they all regular-price?"

Does she think we look like seniors? What does she know? -- she's just a kid. Hmph!!

By now I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm old, but I'm not happy with it. Every now and then as I'm visiting with women who are in their 30's, they'll say something like, "Oh, you're just like my mom!"

Really? 'Cause I was kinda hoping we could be friends?

And then if that's not bad enough, when The Mr. turned 50 these same women just assumed I was also 50.

No, really I'm still 47. Please don't rush me!

This past Sunday while visiting with two of my sisters-in-law, the topic of age came up. They both told me of experiences they had where they forgot how old they were, and assumed they were a year older than they really were. It didn't even phase them. I could hardly believe it! Not only did they not remember how old they were, they didn't seem to even care! Wow!

So, now I'm trying to become like them.

Don't think about your age. Don't think about your age. Don't think...

This might take awhile.


Dixie
Age 48 1/4

It's the Little Things...

As I left my house this morning, I was greeted by the most beautiful sight. Everything was covered with hoarfrost -- it was gorgeous! My happiness level rose by several percent. Especially lovely was the yard next door which is a home to a beautiful weeping willow. I grew up with a weeping willow in our backyard, and I guess that is why I have always loved this sight:

And of course, since I'm not a real photographer, and I only own a "point and shoot", this picture doesn't do the scene any justice. But it really was BEAUTIFUL!! And it really made me happy.

Dixie

"Do You Believe?"

The Mr. came home early from work today, and I called Daughter #3's high school to give my permission for her to cut class. After all, it's not every day the Olympic torch passes right in front of your house -- carried by a family friend.

A couple of hours prior to this I decided it would be fun to build a snowman -- carrying a torch -- to add to the Olympic spirit. We had plenty of snow, so I knew that wouldn't be the problem. What I wasn't counting on was how hard it would be to build it. It just DID NOT want to stick together. To be truthful, I was a little embarrassed to be building it myself, without any kids -- or at least a friend -- but I'm glad I did it anyway. I even had a little time to make some posters.



We had a perfect spot for watching. A lot of our friends thought so, too, so we ended up having a little impromptu party waiting for the fun to start.



When we realized that other people were gathering outside our house, we decided we better move our party outside to stake out our territory.





A few minutes ahead of schedule the procession started.



The moment we were all waiting for:



Okay, in all the chaos of people trying to take pictures, I zoomed in on the wrong torch bearer. But you get the idea, right?



After the torch was passed:




I invited everyone in for a cup of hot chocolate. But to my dismay, there was only a teaspoon left. And I had 20 people in my house. I decided to try the recipe on the cocoa canister -- not so good -- but everyone was a good sport and drank it anyway.



It was a fun few hours spent with family and friends. Thanks, Corey, for creating a great memory for all of us. We hope you had fun!


Dixie

Three Hours and Forty Minutes

Under normal circumstances, three hours and 40 minutes isn't really that long. For example if I were attending a Broadway play or window shopping, the time would have flown by. Even if I were cleaning the house or attending a meeting, it still would have passed fairly quickly. But when you're waiting for someone to come home with a key to the house, three hours and 40 minutes feels like forever.

Let me just preface this little story with the fact that it was -31 Celsius. Okay, to be fair, the thermometer reading was only -20, but with the windchill factored in, the radio announced the temperature as feeling like -31. Here's what happened:

I arrived home from grocery shopping at 3:10 in the afternoon. Son #1A walked up the driveway at the same time. He helped me unloaded the groceries from the car, and we went to take them into the house. The front door would not open. (It wasn't locked -- I purposely left it unlocked in case someone beat me home.) The trouble with the door was that the latch must have broken on the inside. We could press down on the thumb tab, but it just stayed down all wobbily, and wouldn't depress. I only had a key to the front door, so I asked my son to use his key to unlock the back door for us, to which he replied, "I don't have a key to the back door, only the front door." At this point we realized we were freezing (did I mention it was -31?), and took the groceries back to the car to wait for someone else to come home with a key to the back door. I left a message of our plight with The Mr. at work, asking him to call me on my cell phone.

We decided to drive to Walmart because Son #1A needed to purchase something, and I really needed to go to the bathroom. The latter reason is no doubt associated with the fact that today was the first day of my "Responsible Eating Plan" which included drinking a lot of water. After taking care of our needs at Walmart, we were wandering around trying to pass the time, when we realized that we better hurry and get home in case someone else was there, also locked out without a key. They would be freezing waiting for us to get home. Luckily no one was there when we arrived. I remembered that it was early dismissal day at school, and Daughter #3 was going to a friend's house after school, and I realized she only has a key to the front door anyway. By now it was about 4:00.

I decided to try and call The Mr. again to have him hurry home, but was informed by the operator that my cell phone had run out of minutes. Of course the phone number to purchase more minutes was locked inside the house. I knocked on one neighbor's house to use their phone. Her car is in the driveway -- I know she's home -- I'll wait. I can hear the dog barking -- waiting, waiting. Okay, I'm starting to freeze. I'll go to the neighbor on the other side. She's a day care provider, so I know someone has to be there with all the children. When I explained my situation, they were more than happy to let me use the phone. I still couldn't get Robert to answer is work phone. I tried his cell -- still no answer. I figured he must have gotten my first message and was on his way home. Yay, we wouldn't have to wait much longer.

Another half hour passed. Naturally we were getting a little bored, so we broke open a bag of tortilla chips and salsa. All this time we are sitting in the driveway with the car running, keeping the car's heat somewhere between "DON'T LET THE EGGS AND PRODUCE FREEZE" and "DON'T LET THE EGGS AND FROZEN ITEMS GET TOO WARM".

The chips were pretty tasty, but I remembered I also had some new crackers I wanted to try. They were pretty good, too! But wait a minute. I shouldn't be sitting here wasting time. I should be trying to chip the packed snow off the driveway while I'm waiting. Okay, that lasted about 5 minutes. Even with my hood on, it was still freezing out there! Back to the car.

By now Son #1A had fallen asleep. I was fairly confident it was just because he was tired (or full). But somewhere in the back of my mind I was wondering if it had anything to do with carbon monoxide poisoning. Realizing it was time to pick up Daughter #3, we waited for the next bus to come by making sure The Mr. or Son #1B weren't getting off, before we left. We had 15 minutes before the next bus arrived. (We didn't want anyone to freeze if they arrived home without a key.)

By now it was about 5:30. Daughter #3 was offered some "supper" from the assortment of chips, salsa and crackers. She needed to get to piano lessons, but of course her lesson money and music books were in the house. I dropped her off anyway, and was able to scrounge up just enough cash from my purse to pay the teacher. I sure hope she didn't mind all those coins.

When I arrived back home, there was still no one there. What's taking these guys so long? They're usually home by now. I was beginning to doubt whether or not The Mr. even had any house keys with him, because he took the bus, and his house keys are on the same key ring as his car keys. We broke open a box of Mini Wheats. So much for my "responsible eating". Within the next half hour The Mr. got off the bus, but just as I suspected, he didn't have a key. He climbed in the car with us, and I "served" him supper.

Daughter #3 was picked up from piano lessons, and we all squeezed into the car with the groceries. We were pinning all our hopes on our last option. Please let Son #1B have a key to the back door! We waited and ate, then waited some more, and ate some more watching one bus after another pass by our house without stopping. Knowing that the next bus to come by would be the last possible bus for the evening, we all fixed our gaze on the bus stop across the street from our house. At 6:50 the last bus pulled to a stop. Is he on it? Yes, that's him!! Now, please let him have a key. The Mr. jumped out of the car to meet him at the end of the driveway. We all watched intently. The Mr. raised his hand in a triumphant gesture. Hallelujah! We grabbed the groceries and followed him to the back door. It was so good to be home!

Of course, being that it was almost 7:00, Son #1B was eager to have some supper. We informed him that we'd already eaten.




And may I just say, the Tostitos zesty bean and nacho salsa was delish!

I Can't Quit Smiling

Today I started another session of "Showbiz Kids" -- my musical theater group for children. I've been doing this off and (mostly) on for years, and I love it! September is my usual start-up time, but when this past September rolled around, I only had three students registered. So, I was forced to call it off. (After all, how can you put on a production with only three children?) That was kinda sad for me, and I've really been missing it these past couple of months.

But today was the official start date for a new session -- and I have enough kids to make it work. Yay!! The kids look like they're going to be a fun group, and I'm excited about the little production we'll be putting on. I've got so many fun ideas going through my head. I can hardly wait until next Tuesday.

I can't quit smiling!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I LOVE DECEMBER 24th!! To me it's the best day of the whole year. From the first thing in the morning until I finally collapse into bed, I'm like a young child filled with excitement and anticipation. There are so many fun things to do:


1) Complete last-minute shopping. Check.


2) Be surprised by friends bearing gifts. Check.


3) Squeal with delight when Christmas guests arrive. Check.


4) Dress for success. Check.


5) Prepare the traditional cheese ball. Check.



6) Eat said cheese ball (as well as the rest of the delicious meal) by candlelight. Check.

7) Dress up in costumes and act out the Nativity. Check. (Okay, we didn't actually dress up this year. Someone doesn't like wearing costumes. Or clothes, apparently.)

8) Don we now our gay apparel. Or at least our new Christmas Eve pajamas. Check.

We usually drive around looking at the Christmas lights (in our pajamas), but the little ones were too tired. So we put them to bed and got things ready for Santa to come. And after the big people went to bed, I started wrapping gifts. (A little behind this year due to the play our family was in. More about that later.)

What a great day -- I love December 24th!!

Dixie

Our Christmas Tree

I was recently inspired by a woman whom I've never met, but whose blog I regularly read. Her home looked absolutely amazing with her many trees and beautiful decorations. How I would love to be able to produce that same effect in my home. But, alas, I'm afraid that's never going to happen.

We usually decorate the tree on the first Monday evening of December, but since the last day of November fell on a Monday, The Mr. and Daughter #3 felt we should make a break from tradition this year so we wouldn't have to wait any longer. I had been busy all day Monday, and when I arrived home at suppertime, there was Daughter #3 busy getting the tree set up, adjusting branches and "fluffing" twigs. How she maneuvered that heavy thing out of the storage room and up the stairs is beyond me, but apparently she didn't want to waste any time.

Every year I have suggested that we decorate our tree in a specific color or with a specific theme, but every year I get shut down. ("Why would we want to do that? We've got all these great decorations!") So every year our tree looks pretty much the same as the last - with the exception of the current year's new ornaments added to the mix.

When the kids were little I started the tradition of purchasing an ornament for each of them each year, so that by the time they left home, they would have a few ornaments of their own to hang on their tree until they could afford to get their own decorations. I still remember the first ones I ever got for Daughter #1 and Daughter #2 - little porcelain girls dressed in Christmas colors. Now that they have families of their own, those little ornaments are long gone from my household, but I still think of them with fondness every time we decorate the tree. Sniff. But I digress...

So, this year was no different from the rest. Daughter #3 still didn't want me put on the ribbon garland I purchased about 7 years ago (and have never once been able to use), because "that would take too long." We started placing the ornaments on the tree. Even though our decorations are an eclectic mix of old, new, homemade, and slightly ugly, we place them on our tree with a lot of love and warm memories. Here are a few we've collected over the years:


This was for Son #1A. It was given the year he took guitar lessons.



The December that Daughter #2 got married, the rest of us cut out tons of paper snowflakes to use as wedding decorations. Each child got a different style of snowflake that year to remind us of the many hours we spent in that pursuit.



Earlier this year Daughter #3 went to West Edmonton Mall and tryed riding a segway for the first time. She loved it so much that she came home thinking we needed to get one. So this was for her this year.



Son #1B spent a lot of time during Junior and Senior High School as a "Hope Kid" - an organization where teenagers spend one day a week with Senior Citizens to bring them hope. This was one of the crafts they worked on together.



Several years ago I saw these foil fans in a craft store and decided to make some of my own. At the time they were kinda cute, but of course are very outdated now. I was surprised to find out just this year, that The Mr. really likes them, and in fact, it's the only ornaments that he puts on the tree each year. Who knew?



When Daughter #3 was a "Sunbeam" at church. Her teacher had each of the children bring a picture of themselves to class, and then helped them make these little gifts to give to their parents. I not only have fond memories of my daughter at that stage of her life, but it brings back fond memories for her teacher, as well.



Here's one that Son #1A made at church when he was about nine. He can't stand it and never wants to bring it out of his ornament sack. But every year we sneak it out and hang it in the most prominent place on the tree just to embarrass him.



This is one of the first ornaments I could ever find that depicted the nativity. So, of course I love it. I always hoped it would help my children remember the reason for the season.



This little penguin was give to Daughter #3 when she was in grade four by a little boy she had a crush on. Every year when she brings it out we hear a little sigh. ("Aww, Morgan.")



Our tree is never going to win any awards. In fact I'm sometimes embarrassed by it when certain women come into our home. (You know, the ones whose homes are perfect.) But, all in all, I love to look at it when the lights are on. I love to look at each decoration and recall the different memories it elicits. But I especially love to know that it's because of my wonderful family that it looks the way it does.


I love you guys!

Dixie (or should I say "Mom")