FFF#27--Pampering my boys.

When I was a younger mother of four, I had a close friend who had nine children (6 girls and 3 boys).  We were talking one day and she said, "I think it is important to pamper the children, especially the boys."

When Sport was the baby (1998)

I wasn't sure how I felt about that.  I didn't necessarily disagree with her, but I also wasn't sure I agreed with her.  I mean, there is a point where you want your children to feel loved and special, but you also want them to learn how to work (and work hard) and how to discipline themselves.  I wasn't sure how the two concepts could go hand in hand.  Now, however, I think I have found a balance.  (Not that I will be able to explain it to you, but I'll give it my best shot!)

This morning might be a prime example.  I have two very high maintenance and demanding children who are currently the 'book ends' of our family.  Even though one is an adult (23), he has spent the last four-ish years doing things that have been really difficult for him (college and mission).  He also pushes himself beyond his abilities sometimes (a lot of times).  He runs and runs and runs until he crashes.  Over the last six months, he has crashed, though he did manage to finish college before he dropped.  He has had multiple concussions and because he pushes himself so far, he has not healed properly.  Right now, he is home recuperating.  He needs consistent meals (we are talking six, not three) and sleep (sometimes 2 naps in the day, depending upon how his head is doing and what he did the day before). 

Life is hard out there for those young men.  They need a safe place where they can come home and relax and be cared for.  They need to know they are loved.  When they are little, they also need those things.  Why?

What does it communicate to our little men to have them feel loved and pampered?

I think it ministers to the kind of men they become.  If they experience life with safety and security, where their needs (physical, emotional, and spiritual) are met, they have a reference and understanding for how to treat others and engender in them similar feelings.  They are more compassionate, more kind, more sensitive to the needs of others.  Those are the kind of men we need more of in the world.

Now, I am not talking about 'sissy' men who are so pampered that they cannot be men and protect their families and work hard and fight in a war, if necessary.  Slim is home recuperating, because life has been difficult and he is injured.  He is capable of fighting the world and fighting it alone if necessary.  I do not 'quash' the masculinity out of my men.  On the contrary, I expect them to be hard workers, and have strength, tenacity, determination, and fight inside of them, and for the most part, they do.  But I also want them to be capable of sensitivity to the needs and plights of others.  I want them to be men with a heart.

So my examples this morning are two fold, one where two of my boys asked for something for breakfast that was important for them but required me to make two different things.  Spike asked for pancakes for dinner last night and I told him I would make them for breakfast.  Then at breakfast, before Spike was awake, Slim asked for muffins.  I made them both.

Smiley, however, had a different morning experience.  I asked him to empty the dishwasher (a five minute or less job) and he came in with an attitude and slammed the cupboards.  I told him to go out, I would do it myself.  Then I let him know it would be his job to wash all the dishes for the entire day even though he did them last night.  Well, you probably shouldn't have such a major attitude over such a minor issue, or as your mother, I am likely to find plenty of other, less pleasant things for you to be doing with your time.

Ya'...you wanna have an attitude?

Bring it on!!!  I'm pretty sure your mother can have a bigger one!

My Great-Great Grandmother: Mary Elizabeth Chapman Weddle

So I had the feeling I should do some genealogy work yesterday and I started rummaging through my drawer that has all of that in there, when I came across this story.  I am waiting for a photo from my aunt to add to it, but the story is so very sweet and exciting, that I didn't want to wait.  I typed it up and attached it to her name in family tree.  Now when anyone pulls up her name, her story will be right there too.  And when I get a photo, I'll add that to family tree and here to the blog.  My grandfather typed the story up (I guess), as he had it written in her hand so the first and last paragraphs are his, but the story is hers.  Enjoy reading it, she is an amazing, faith-filled woman.  (No photos yet, just the story and doing some research, I would guess this is about 1864 or 65--She was married to Henry in 1860.  If the dates are correct, she was 17.  And their little Jimmy was born in 63, when she would have been 20.)

 This is the story as told to me (OB Biggs) by my Grandmother--of her life and some of her trials as lived in Missouri and Kentucky at the beginning of and during the War between the States. Mary Elizabeth Weddle told many interesting stories of those trying days, none of which impressed me as much as this one.

Grandma Weddle:

Back in Missouri, we lived a happy little family of five. My husband had been married and had a little boy--his Billy. I also had been married and had a son of my own--George. We were very happy when our little boy, Jimmy, came along. We farmed and owned our own place. A colored family lived in the corner of the yard and the woman, Eliza would help me with the children and also with the general work around the house. Her man, Ned, helped my husband in the field.

 My mother, father, and a sister, Emmelyn, lived near to us. We had lovely neighbors and everyone was happy. Then the terrible war broke out and my husband had to leave. What grief for me to make a living for three little boys! I had had no experience in much of anything except caring for my babies and home. I spent sleepless nights and walked the floor day by day. However, we had a big supply of meats, lard, beans, and cornmeal; also a barrel of sugar and plenty of coffee. I thought surely the war would be over soon, but at the end of three months, my husband, Henry, got a furlough to come home and see how we were getting along. Oh, the happiness that I knew when I saw him coming, for I thought surely the war was over. On the contrary, he brought the sad news that the war would last three or four years. I tried to be very brave and told him we would get along somehow. I had to learn to do so many things that I didn't understand, but with all my brave ado, my husband was very sad because he didn't know when he left that time when he would see his family again, if ever. I just couldn't realize it was so bad--we didn't have newspapers or telephones to tell us how bad it really was.

 My husband left and promised to try and get another furlough as soon as he could, but it was six months before he came home again and then it was for only two days. He told us then how bad it really was and what we could expect.

He got busy, took up the kitchen floor and dug a big hole where he buried our food and told us not to let anybody know that we had hid it there. We only left a small supply in the house and after we had stored most of it in the hole, he nailed the floor back down. Henry told us that we had better have mother, father, and my sister come live with us, for there was a bunch of men called Bushwhackers going through the country robbing the houses of all the food they could lay their hands on and for us to be very careful who we talked to when he was gone again. We didn't know whether we would ever see him again or not, but we had to carry on.

 I had a nice fat little mare which I dearly loved and my husband told me to keep her hid out in a big thicket not too far from the barn, so I took my side saddle out there and hid them both. We got along alright for a while and then it was rumored that the Bushwhackers were doing a lot of meanness in the country again so my father decided that it wasn't safe for him to stay at the house. He was quite old, but could get around pretty good. There was a big cave in the side of a mountain about a mile from the house so he decided that that was where he would hide out. Neither my mother, sister, or I could get down to where he was to take him some food. We had a neighbor living about two miles from us whose man was in the army, but they had two boys about twelve and fourteen who volunteered to take father's meals to him. This arrangement went on for some time and when a stranger would come and ask for the man of the house, we would just say that he had gone to look for the oxen or he had gone rabbit hunting and hope that that would be the last bunch to come through the country. My mother was worrying herself sick, so afraid that they would find him and besides, he was getting mighty feeble from staying in the damp cave.

Just about this time, we heard that there was a band coming through the country stealing and burning as they went. We were very afraid early one morning when mother saw a man come riding down the road real fast. She went to crying and saying she knew they had found Papa, but I got her quieted before he got to the door and wanted to know where the old man was. I began to tell him the old story about him out looking for the oxen and mother began to cry saying look on his bridle. The man said, like hell he is, look here. He reached down pulled at the resilett and the nebuie mother had knit for him to wear in the cave. He said, we have found him and mean to kill him but will bring him home before we do. The neighbor woman whose two boys were carrying food to the cave had told where he was. They brought Papa up to the house and had him chained. There were a lot of women with this gang and while the men took up the floor and found our food the women ransacked the house and took all of my pretty linens and keepsakes off the mantle. Then they went to the barn and found the trail I had made going to the thicket to feed my little mare. There was a young fellow that had a very young girl on an old horse and side saddle. He took her off and saddled my mare and put her on her. I was ready to fight then and grabbed the bridle. The young fellow said, drop that or I'll kill you. I looked at my father sitting there and he shook his head to me to let them alone so I did. They were taking all our food so my father asked them to please leave the old woman and children a mess of meal. One man gave him a kick and said, well, I shouldn't but I will, so he poured out a small pan full and set it on the table.

Then they took my father out and set fire to the house and all we could get out was just what we could carry out while the house burned. My mother was crying and took the pan of cornmeal and held it in her lap. They carried my father about a half mile down the road and crossed a small stream of water. On the far bank, he knelt and was praying, they shot him and walked off. It took my sister to care for my mother so I ran down to where I heard the shots and saw him across the creek. Not thinking how deep the water might be, I jumped in and it was up to my arms before I got over and I couldn't swim a lick. But in those days, I didn't think of myself, though I only weighed ninety-eight pounds and hardly five feet tall.

 I ran up on the bank and laid my father back on the ground, put a little piece of wood under his head and took out his red bandanna handkerchief and tied it around his head. Then I almost fainted for his brains come out on my hand so I knew there wasn't anything I could do but stand it. I went in search of a neighbor woman to help me carry him to the place where the house had burned. In those days fo[u]r or five miles was a close neighbor, but I got help. We nailed two boards together and put him on it. We had to walk a half mile down the creek and cross with the body over where a big tree had fallen across the stream. Me and this good woman dug a grave under a big Elm tree, wrapped my father in the new quilts my mother had made and laid him to rest.

We moved into our smoke house and the problem for me then was to find something for my three little boys, mother, and sister to eat. The next morning I took the old horse that had been left in place of my little mare and started out. I had heard of a crib of corn about forty miles from where we lived and I didn't know when I bid my little family good-bye when I would ever see them again, but it was that or see them starve. Some how I made it there and back and took the corn the next day to the mill and had it ground. In all this time I had not heard from my Henry, but I knew we had to leave Missouri, so we began to make arrangements to move to Texas. All the women for miles around began to make plans for the move and mother would be sitting around crying. She was so poorly that I thought I would lose her before we got started. But the day came when it was time to start. I had two sacks of corn meal and had dug up the dirt in the smoke house, poured water over it and then boiled it down to make my salt. So the day came when we started our long drive through to Texas.

 There were twenty-three wagons of women and children--they called it the wagon train. And what a mixed bunch it was!! Some cussed all the time and some prayed---some had to be sick and depend upon others. My older sister, Jane, that lived about a hundred miles south of us, joined the wagons as we passed. Her husband was evading the war and we didn't think much of him. It made me mad to think of what my Henry was going through and we had to get along without his help. It did make me proud of my Southern soldier husband. Henry's stepmother had her wagon with us--she was very old and had a little colored boy named Joey that drove her oxen. We had been on the road some time and hadn't found any corn or other food and I was getting worried. One evening a man rode up--we were always meeting horse-back riders, some Northern and Southern soldiers and I wouldn't talk to them unless they mentioned food. This man asked how our crew was holding out and I told him how hard up we were. He told me that the next day we would come to a barn where a big bunch of hogs bed up at night and that we could have one if we could kill it. We camped the next evening and after dark, when the hogs had got bedded down, I went out with my butcher knife and took the little negro boy, Joey, with me. I picked out a small pig that I thought we could handle, knocked it in the head and stuck it. Then Joey and I grabbed it and drug it over the fence before the other hogs knew what was going on. There were a lot of big hogs in there and they could've given us plenty of trouble.

All the women began saying we will all be murdered. Grandma Tucker was mighty mad but I let little Joey eat with us that night and the next morning. Grandma sat by herself and ate her bread and drank her water. But the next morning she came and said, well Lizzie, we weren't bothered last night so you can give me Joey's part of the meat! We hung up the hog up on a limb and skinned it---that was the only way we had to dress it. Some of the women went out and caught little pigs that night, although they pretended to be so afraid that they would be caught with meat in the wagons. Then the next few days we met some men that told us that in about twenty miles we would come to a big crib of corn and they told me how I could find the road leading to it about twenty miles off our route.

The next morning I saddled the old horse---not knowing if he could carry me and a sack of corn or not--but about noon I came in sight of the large barn, a big double log one. I saw four horses tied there and as I came closer, I saw four men sitting on a blanket playing cards. I was scared to death but couldn't give up and me so close to that crib of corn. I thought of my three little boys and rode up on them. They jumped up and threw the blanket over the cards and one of them asked me if I came for a sack of corn and I said yes I did. He told me to just sit still and they would get it for me. They shucked and shelled a sack of corn in about thirty minutes, brought it and tied it to my saddle. I left there not knowing whether or not I would make it or not. It seemed to me that the poor old horse would stagger with his burden at times. While I had been gone, there had come up a thunder storm and several of the little creeks were up, it was getting dark and I tried to hurry the old horse up. Lightening had struck a tree and it had fallen across the road, but we were too close to our family to let that stop us. The good old animal gave a big leap and cleared the tree. I am sure if a picture could have been taken of that jump, I would never have appeared more graceful in my life. After that I came to love the critter and felt that some of my prayers had been answered.

My mother was so glad to see me for she thought when I would leave to get food, she might never see me again. Most of the women were afraid that we might be killed for taking things like that, but it was that or starve. The corn was left because the houses had been burned but they would not burn the barn where the corn was. One day we passed a cane patch and decided to camp there. The cane was ripe and I cut some of it and twisted it for enough juice to boil down and make syrup. The little boys were so happy they cried and said they sure would have some syrup on their bread that night. Oh, the grief of those days but it made my faith stronger than ever.

We traveled for days and days--the women complaining and crying for bread. Every once in a while a wagon would drop out. You know our wagons had wooden axles and if they were loaded too heavy they would catch on fire. We were traveling along one evening when six or eight men rode up and wanted to know how we were getting along. They noticed our wagons and one of them said that we would come to a pine grove the next day and that if we would gather the pine knots and put them on a flat rock, cutting a little trench in the rock, then build a fire on the pine knots, we would get enough tar to grease our wagons. Some of the women laughed about it, but just the same, the next day we came to the grove and I began to gather the pine knots. Next morning I had a nice can of tar to grease my wagon axles. They begged for some to grease their wagons but, as they had had the same chance that I had had they didn't get any of mine.

Then we began to have trouble with our oxen. They took some kind of sickness that we couldn't do anything about, so when a wagon lost its oxen the train had to go on and leave it behind.

 All of this time I had not heard a word from my husband. My brother-in-law would dart in and out to see my sister but we didn't have anything to do with him. He would bring coffee for my sister and my mother would smell it cooking and cry because she only had parched corn to makeshift coffee with. We had been traveling for weeks and our corn meal was running out and I was so worried for everything in that part of the country was gone. However, one evening we came to a big pumpkin patch and I began to gather them and put them in the wagon--as many as we could hold. By this time, the salt that I had made was gone and the corn meal was out so we lived on stewed pumpkin for one week. Then we came to an old barn where a house had been and we camped there. The next morning about four o'clock I heard a rooster crow. I got up and ran him down and we had stewed chicken. The following day was very damp and rainy so we stopped under a big tree. Shortly after we made camp three men rode up and asked us how our food was holding out and we told him that it wasn't holding out at all. They told us that about noon the next day we would come to a big plantation that the governor had left to feed the widows and orphans and they told us to stop there and ask for something. I could not sleep that night, just hoping and praying that nothing would happen until we could reach this place. My little boys had begun showing signs of the one week stewed pumpkin diet and they were entitled to a change.

We were up and off at day break. Sure enough, about noon we came in sight of the big house which stood about a hundred yards off the road. I told my sister to take care of the oxen and I would go up to the house and ask for food. Now I want to tell you just how I looked and I remember right. I had on a cotton check dress and shoes---something I had not had in a long time. My feet were sore from having to walk beside the oxen. I didn't look any too good. I knocked on the door and an old lady answered it and I told her what I wanted and what we had lived on for the past two weeks. She said, you poor child, for she thought I was. When I told her about my three little boys she could hardly believe it. She seemed very worried for some reason then she said if her son came to the door before his wife did that we would get something, but if she came to the door then we wouldn't get anything. I sure began to pray that her son would get there first. She sent a little colored boy on the run to the field to bring her son and pretty soon he came and he gave me a bushel of ground corn meal and told me to take it to the wagon and hurry back. I almost ran to the wagon and when I came back, he gave me a big middlen of meat and he asked me if I could carry that much and I told him I sure could because I didn't want him to cut any off. He helped me steady it on my head and I made it to the wagon. The three children met me yelling that now they would have ham for supper. The man told me to hurry back for some salt and the dear old Grandmother said she would give me some milk and butter. By this time I was getting very weak and as I came out the gate with the sack of salt a lady in a double buggy with a colored driver came up and tried to make me take the salt back. Just as soon as I got back we started the wagon for I was afraid that she would come and make us take the meal and meat back. We didn't camp until some time after dark. By this time, we didn't have very many wagons in the train and we were nearing the Red River. We had been told that the crossings were very dangerous and I was worried, wondering if we would ever make it. We came into the river three days later and one of my oxen died. I still had the horse and rode three days trying to find an oxen I could trade him for. I decided to try the river before I let him go and rode across and then took the wagon over. We were in Texas! But, where to go, I didn't know. By this time our food was running low again. One evening about three o'clock, a shower came up and we stopped under a tree for shelter. There were only two wagons left now. We were waiting there for the shower to pass when two men rode up and got under the tree also to get out of the rain. One of the men looked at my little stepson and said there was a man in a train on wagons hauling food for the army that that little boy belongs to--the man's name is Henry--and he has often wondered if you still had the little boy or if you had sent him to his sister. I told him it couldn't be my Henry because he would know better than that. My husband had got word some how that we had left Missouri but did not know where we were headed for.

My little stepson that I often speak of had been born with a hairlip and it was easily noticeable. This man said that he knew it was him and if you will camp tomorrow night at a lake which you will come to early in the evening, I'll send him to you. What a joy it was to even think that it might be Henry, but it had been eighteen months since I had heard from him and couldn't believe it. The children were over joyed and even Mother was happy! But I was afraid to hope because I was almost at the end of my rope.

We were up before daylight the next morning---little Billy was so excited and kept telling me get up, that we would see Papa that day. We traveled all day and late that evening I saw a man coming down the road on a mule and I knew it was my Henry, but I couldn't say a word. He rode up and jumped off and took me in his arms.

Mother began to cry and tell him about Father and all the little boys holding to his pants leg. He picked me up in his arms and sat down on a rock beside the road and then the tears began to run down my face. He camped with us that night and told us that he had been wounded and that was why he was driving the wagon of food to the front.

 He took us to a small house that was on his line of travel and he came by once a month and would bring us food and stay all night. It was there we lived until the war was over and he came home for good.

 (The story of my Grandmother--Mary Elizabeth Weddle--written in her own words. What a wonderful faith in God she had--a great and heroic woman---one among many during those trying days. OB Biggs)

The Gospel in Brazil & Moments that Matter Most!

Well, having one son currently serving in Brazil and one who returned from service in Brazil and the whole World Cup thingy lately (where our missionary tells us: whenever Brazil plays, we have to stay indoors all day because of possible riots and/or celebrating), there has been a little focus on how the church is growing in Brazil.  I just thought I'd let you know what they are saying!!

Here is a great video about it:

A story in this month's Ensign, The Church in Brazil:  The Future has Finally Arrived.  (Remember to just change the 'eng' at the end of the link to put the article in your language.

And there is an article in the Church News:  Brazil is Part of the Heart of the Church

gringos.com

 

I just loved this little video too!  A great pick-me-up and reminder of what is important.  We do need to slow down and take time and spend it with those who matter the most.  This is especially significant to me as my two dear friends are battling for the lives of their spouses, and one just lost hers in April!  Enjoy the video!

FFF #26-- Pioneering families are forever!

Remember when I told you that I would share the story with you of why we needed to come home early for a baptism??  Well, here is her story:

weddinglds.com

Last year, I (Carin) noticed a young family periodically attending our ward----mother, father and 2 young sons, I would later learn were 7 and 2 and 1/2.  The father almost always came.  The mother and the boys sometimes.  I thought I recognized her, but could not place her.

Fast forward to December-ish.  I recognized her as a checker at our local grocery store.  I also learned that her husband worked for the 2nd counselor in our stake presidency with 2 of his returned missionary sons (in a different ward).

I began looking for her at the grocery store and going through her line.  At one point, I introduced myself and said, "I think I have seen you at my church."  She asked which one, because sometimes they went with her husband's coworkers to the other ward.  I told her.  Then she said, "Ya', I really like it.  I have been doing what they (the missionaries) asked and reading the book (Book of Mormon) and it really helps.  I have a better day when I read."  I encouraged her to continue. Every week, I would look for her, go through her line, and we would have some small chat like that.

Her church attendance was really sporadic, but I knew she worked some Sundays and some Sundays may be at the other ward.  I kept encouraging her and we talked about her requesting Sundays off so she could come to church.  Around the end of March, I learned that the missionaries had dropped teaching the family.  What?!  That didn't make any sense to me.

The next time I saw her (in the grocery store check out line), she told me that she had been having a difficult time because her father had been ill (had a stroke), but she had been fasting and praying for him because they (the missionaries) said it would help.  Now I knew the missionaries dropping them didn't fit!  Why did they drop her?

I decided to figure it out.  We had the Sisters over for dinner and I asked about this family.  They said that she just wasn't really interested.  He wanted to be baptized, but he wanted to wait for her and she just wasn't interested or really ready, so they dropped them.  What?!  A non-interested person who reads, prays, attends church, and fasts????!!  I don't think so.

I decided I needed more information.  I invited my friend and her family over for dinner.  It took us a few weeks to get things coordinated but they finally made it over Thursday night before Easter.  We just visited and got to know each other.  One point of our discussion revolved around his motorcycle that she did not want him to have.  She wouldn't ride it with him.  She didn't like it.  I asked my friend what it was about the missionaries' message that bothered her, or that she questioned, or didn't understand or didn't like.  She said they would ask her 'What has Jesus Christ done for you?' but she didn't know who Jesus Christ was.  It became obvious that she did not have a Christian background.  I asked both of them about their religious upbringing.  He was Catholic.  OK.  I didn't recognize her religion.  (I thought I knew most of them because I had a Religions of the World class but I couldn't categorize hers.)  I asked her to explain it to me.  At the conclusion of our discussion, Drew took 5 minutes (literally five minutes, which if you know my spouse is a miracle!) to explain who God is, who His son Jesus Christ is, the Holy Ghost, and a very, very basic outline of the Plan of Salvation.  We wrapped it up and they went on their way.

Sunday morning, an hour and a half before church, we got a phone call from one of the returned missionaries her husband worked with.  The husband had gone out late that night to blow off some steam and ride his motorcycle.  He had lost control of the bike, had an accident, and been killed.  The police had been over that morning to let them know.  They had dinner with us on Thursday!  On Sunday morning he was gone.

Drew and I got dressed and went over, after Drew called and cancelled his meetings and let people know that he wasn't sure he would be there for Sacrament meeting.  I was suppose to lead the music in Sacrament meeting.  Oh well.  They would figure it out. 

My friend's family (brothers and sisters) were over helping with the children.  My friend came down the stairs and I just held her as she sobbed.

After some time, we sat down and just talked.  Then she said, "We always wanted to go to the temple and be a forever family.  I guess we'll never get to do that now."  My heart almost broke.  Drew and I quickly corrected that perception and helped her to know that some day she could still go to the temple, have her husband's work done and if she was a member in good standing and she was worthy, and it had been at least a year since she had been baptized, she could then have her family sealed together for time and all eternity.  That was Easter morning.

The next few weeks were a blur as we had the funeral, helped her put some things in order, jumped through lots of legal hoops, and calmed her nerves, fears, anger and frustration at her husband and her situation.  Through it all she continued to attend church, but usually left after sacrament meeting because managing the boys was very difficult.

We started having her, the boys, and the sisters over for dinner about once a week as she again listened to the missionaries with a new heart.  Her prayers were more earnest and sincere.  Her desire to know was tangible and she was truly seeking.  She had some ups and downs, but eventually, she said, "I want this.  I know the feeling now---it is true and I want to be baptized."

She chose to be baptized on her husband's birthday----and that is why we had to be home for her baptism!  We couldn't very well ask her to change the date.

So on June 24th, 2014, my dear friend became the pioneer in her family.  She is the pivot point that brings all of her family who is willing to follow her into the fold of God--to experience all of the ordinances and covenants of the Priesthood available to them, if they are willing to change their hearts, as she changed hers.  That is one baptism we just couldn't miss!

Life is still difficult and she is still making adjustments, but she is headed in the right direction and has the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost to help her out.  (And an entire stake has rallied around her!)

PS  Now she is attending all 3 hours of church :-)

A little update.

Old beach photos...no sun!

So life is moving on here at our house!!  I had wanted to blog about our trip to the beach last Monday, but I can't seem to get my photos to send.  Check that.  I've sent them twice and they never show up in my email, so I'm not sure what I am doing wrong.  I've done it before and it has worked, so whatever!  Anyway, the day was gorgeous!  There is a little river at the beach and the kids just played and played and played in the water and the sand.  The sun was gorgeous, no clouds (very rare in July, here) and there was a slight breeze.  And I had some decent photos!  Oh well!

So I guess we will have to wait.  I need (want, really want) a new digital camera.  My other one died.  Slim's died.  Spanky and Sport are gone with theirs.  I will just have to wait. 

this is me now.

We spent the money on glasses---for me!  Scary!  I have never needed glasses.  My vision has changed in the last few months.  Sometimes when I am driving things are blurry.  Sometimes when I am reading the words are blurry.  Sometimes, most of the time, everything is just fine.  I hadn't been able to explain any rhyme or reason to when I could see and when I couldn't.  So I went to the optometrist, who said, "Yep, you're getting older.  Most people's eyes, around their 40th birthday, will change.  This is just a little prescription, but it will help you.   You need bifocals."  He said it so matter of factly.  I was beginning to feel my age.  But then he recommended getting progressive lenses.  And he said that I should wear them every day because as I aged I would need them more regularly anyway so to make that adjustment now would be easier than if I waited.  Ugh!  Really?!  So then I went and chose frames.  When I put them on, I thought, "There she is, Grandma."  None of my grandchildren will know me without glasses.  They haven't arrived yet, so I haven't had to deal with that reality (probably next week---that the glasses will arrive, not the grandchildren, sheesh!).  I would show you a picture, but--yep, no digital camera.  You'll just have to use your imagination---you know, that old fashioned thing!!?

It kind of looks like this

Last week we also laid wood flooring in the Spike's room, because of his dust allergy.  I've had the flooring since we moved into the house.  But I didn't know where to put it.  When Spike's allergy tests came back, I knew where it belonged.  We had almost enough for both of the back bedrooms.  We were one box short.  But!!  Awesome news!!  I found it at Home Depot.  But I had to have it ordered to the house because we don't have one in town, or very close.  But it was only $9.00 shipping, which is cheaper than the gas and time.  So that is on the way too and then we can lay that in the other bedroom.  It was quite a feat because we had to move all the furniture in one bedroom, and rearrange everything so we could move all the bedroom furniture from one room into the other.  We did that one day.  The next day, my super awesome contractor, Trina of Foot Print Construction, put the floor in.  That night we moved it all back.  When the flooring arrives, we'll do it all again for the other bedroom.  (And get rid of that nasty 70's, orange shag carpet!  That has to go!)

I am still not caught up on the laundry.  That is what we have been doing here.  So if you wonder why I am not blogging more, it is because I can't take cool photos and blog about them, and because we are doing some home remodeling before school starts in August.

check out my shadow in the corner

This week, Sun is at Girls' Camp and next week, Speedy had Scout Camp.  I am just a little jealous because he is going to the camp I attended for Girls' Camp all of my camp years!!  I wish he could pack me into his stuff and take me along.  But it wouldn't be the same because it would be full of scouts instead of girls.  Oh well.  I guess I will just have to be a grown-up, with bifocals!  Grandma, right around the corner.