Where do I belong?

Do you ever feel like a spectator, seemingly always observing, but never truly participating in anything? That's sort of where I am at this point in my life. I don't say that to garner sympathy, only to perhaps see if anyone else is experiencing a similar feeling, and if so, how you're handling it.

The military lifestyle has called our family to move frequently, which has naturally meant that we've found ourselves in unfamiliar surroundings and situations over the years. We've been the "new family" in the _____________ (Fill in the blank with whatever word happens to be appropriate... squadron, church, school) many, many times. That doesn't normally bother me, as I'm not particularly shy, but I think the tables are turning for me and I'm finding that I'm not as comfortable in these settings as I once was, and I'm growing weary of being that new person everywhere I go.

You're probably familiar with the phrase "Bloom where you're planted." That's been my mantra for years. I know that we're only going to be residing in a place for a short time, and I have a choice of either sitting at home all alone or embracing my new surroundings, which, for me, means exploring the area, meeting new people and getting involved. I end up investing in a group of friends and it's always hard to leave and move on to the next place. I think that's the way it should be.

Leaving Spain to move back to the States was difficult. I had an awesome group of close friends and we did everything together. I think overseas assignments can tend to be very intimidating and isolating, therefore they lend themselves well to these types of tight-knit relationships. While I knew I was blessed to be there and to have these wonderful women in my life, I truly had no idea just how blessed. Don't you hate figuring these things out after the fact? I'd have treasured those people and that time in my life even more if I'd only known then what I know now.

I really thought that moving back to the States would be a fairly easy transition though. I mean, we'd lived in this area of Illinois before, so it was familiar territory. We had a church lined up, a beautiful home we'd purchased and good schools for the boys (That's debatable at times, but that's another post). So why do I feel this way? And what does "this way" mean? I can't verbalize it other than to say that it's unfamiliar to me and not at all what I'd expected.

Our military base is very "rank heavy," meaning there are lots of high-ranking officers stationed here. I have been in several situations over the last 6 months that have left me feeling very unwelcomed and discontented, situations where people are obviously name dropping, I suppose to impress others with the fact that they know "So & So." I've endured conversations where all people can talk about is their husbands' jobs and who's making general. I think it's great that people are being promoted, and they have my respect, especially considering how difficult it can be to make such a high rank, not to mention the time and attention their jobs require. I just know that these folks put on their pants the same way I do every day.

Quite frankly, I'm not interested in superficial relationships at this point in my life because they have no substance. I don't want to get to know someone just because her spouse is a general. Don't people see the insincerity of those who so are so obviously playing the game? I just want to be friends with someone because I enjoy her company and have a common interest. I don't really care what her spouse does. Does rank have to be a prerequisite for friendship?

I'm extremely proud of my husband for his military accomplishments because I know he's worked very hard in his career. I admire his stamina and dedication to being the best he can be, but not just in terms of his military career. I'm even more proud of the person he is, and how blessed the boys and I are that he's my husband and their father. My husband's rank has no real bearing on my feelings for him. Am I proud that he's earned his rank? Yes, of course I am. Does it make him more important/special in my eyes? No, it does not. And more to the point, does/should his rank elevate me as a person? Absolutely not! I could go the rest of my life without hearing "What does your husband do?" and be just fine.

I've always considered myself to be outgoing and hospitable. I'm all about inclusion and have tried to go out of my way over the years to reach out to newcomers, knowing how it feels to be in their shoes, and also knowing how great it is to be on the receiving end of a warm welcome. There's no better feeling!

I don't feel warmth here, not yet anyway. I'm still searching, and trying not to let my own judgmental feelings get in the way. Not everyone is careless and calculating. I know there are other women here who want the same things I do. I'm attempting to surround myself with positive, genuine people. One of the loneliest feelings for me is not having a sense of belonging. I no longer belong to the group of people I just left, and I don't yet belong to a group of people in my new surroundings. In the meantime, I wonder... Where DO I belong? God willing, I will eventually figure that out, hopefully sooner than later.

I'm still kickin'... and cleanin'

It's been several weeks since my last post, and I wonder if I can remember how to do this blogging thing. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's have all come and gone and now it's mid-January. For heaven's sake, I feel like I've lost a huge chunk of my life in the blink of an eye.

To be completely honest, I haven't felt like I had that much to share with anyone. I guess after having lived overseas and traveled to so many incredible places, it doesn't seem particularly exciting to write about my day-to-day life in Illinois.

Then again, maybe, just maybe, you might find my daily adventures amusing, because I manage to do a lot of really goofy things... things that would probably boost your self-esteem by several points. And of course I share all of this with my readers, all 3 of you, because it's like a community service kind of deal. I'm here for YOU!

Need an example of a goofy thing I've done? I'm happy to oblige. Just two days ago, I opened my refrigerator and discovered it reeked of something really strong, but I couldn't quite put my finger on the cause. I started moving items around on the very full shelves (Thank you, Lord, for lots of food to eat!), and finally determined the odor was coming from a jar of pickled beets that had overturned in the back of the refrigerator.

Oh, okay... no problem, I figured. I would just wipe up the mess and be done. That's not how it went down... not even close. This turned out to be a 2-hour ordeal that required the removal of every single jar, bottle, baggie, package and plastic bowl we owned, as well as all of the shelves and drawers themselves. Yep, that reddish pickled beet juice was everywhere. I kid you not. How could that much juice be in one little jar of pickled beets? Enough to drain out and splatter onto (and into) three shelves, three drawers, down the back of the refrigerator, onto the wound up water tubing, and then of course it pooled in the very bottom too. Just a fantastic mess! I can make 'em, I tell ya!

I should have taken a photo, but I was so on the verge of tears that it didn't occur to me at the time. The first 15 minutes of cleaning wasn't that bad, but that's because I hadn't realized to what extent my refrigerator was covered in pickled beet juice. Once I fully understood the serious cleaning job that awaited me, I began to mutter to myself, and eventually laugh, and I don't mean just a chuckle. I mean hysterical laughing, out of control laughing, the kind that could worry others who happen to be in your presence.

Just so you know, this exact scenario happened to me just a year or so ago. Yep, pickled beets and I don't have a good track record together. Maybe that's my cue to stop buying them. In fact, I feel pretty certain God Himself is trying to tell me that I need to cut pickled beets out of my diet altogether. You know what? Message received!

On a positive note, my refrigerator is spotless now. Don't envy.

I'm thankful for...

As a kid, I remember singing these songs, not just in church, but in school as well. Most schools don't allow this type of music anymore, unless they're parochial schools. That truly saddens me. More and more it seems we're pushing God out, doesn't it? We're forgetting where we came from and turning our backs on our Heavenly Father, the One who created us, and loved us so much that He sent His one and only Son to save us all. While I can't begin fathom that kind of love, I do know that I'm thankful for it.

Thanksgiving is upon us, which seems hardly believable, as I think it was July and then I blinked and it became mid-November. Time is flying, which it certainly tends to do the older I get. But let's not talk about my age, okay? I'd rather talk about the blessings, both big and small, for which I'm thankful.

You know a person could go on and on about the blessings in his/her life, which would make for quite a lengthy blog post. What I'm gonna do, in the interest of time, yours and mine, is to think of things I'm thankful for that begin with each letter in the word "thankgiving." Deal?

Let's see... I might have to put my thinking cap on for this. Here is my "thanks" list, in no particular order...

T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G

"T" = TELEPHONES (I'm still amazed that I can talk with friends & family who aren't sitting right next to me), TATERS, TURKEY (Wouldn't be Thanksgiving without one... sorry to all you non-turkey eatin' people), TWO-YEAR-OLDS (now that I no longer have any), TRUMPETS (3 people play 'em in my house), TRUST, TENTS (Camping would be so much less enjoyable without them), TURTLES, TOES (It would be kinda hard to stand/walk without 'em), TANGERINES, TELEVISION (sometimes), TRASH TRUCKS (that haul away my trash), TRAVEL, TARGET (the store), TOASTERS, TOAST, TYPEWRITERS (Yeah, I know... how archaic of me!), THOUGHTFULNESS, TEAMWORK, TALENT, TINTO DE VERANO

"H" = HAPPINESS, HORSES (I don't ride, but I am from Kentucky, HANKIES (especially when I really need 'em), HELLOS ('cause that usually means I'm running into a friend), HARMONICAS (Like the way they sound), HOME (It's where I hang my hat & love on my family & they love on me right back), HELPFULNESS, HOLIDAYS, HARRY (CONNICK, JR.), HONESTY, HUMOR, HILARITY, HUMILITY, HEARTS, HAMPERS (the kind you put dirty clothes in), HERSHEY'S, HAIR (Even if it doesn't look great every day, I have some, it keeps my head warm and I'd miss it if I didn't have it), HANGERS (on which to hang my clothes), HAMMOCKS (I don't have one, but aren't they cool?) HGTV, HEROES

"A" = APPLES, ANGELS, AMERICA, AWESOMENESS, AUNTS (I have some good ones!), AORTAS (Can't live without one... literally), AIRPLANES (particulary ones that are in working order and take off & land on time), ALABAMA (I've lived there), ACTIVITY, ARTISTS, AIR

"N" = NIECES (Mine are pretty special), NEPHEWS (I only have one), NICE (people mostly), NINCOMPOOP (Not really... I just think the word is funny), NARNIA (♥ those movies!), NESTLE (as in chocolate), NICKNAMES

"K" = KIDS (particularly my own), KITES, KNEES (that still work), KRISPY KREMES (Hello!), KISSES, KINDNESS, KITCHENS, KIDDING (all in fun)

"S" = SENSES (The five we have are pretty dadgum awesome & I'd sure miss 'em if they ever went away), SISTER SCHUBERT'S (These are yeast rolls that are heavenly... really!), SNACKS, SUNSHINE, SILLINESS, SLEEP, STAMPING (like cards and such), SELFLESSNESS, SNOW, SANFORD & SON, STILLNESS, SUNRISES & SUNSETS, SURPRISES, SINGINGS SONGS, SOAP, SHAMPOO, SANDWICHES, STUFFING (the kind you eat), STARS (the kind in the sky mostly), SPECIAL SKILLS, STARBUCKS, SPAIN (I used to live there), SOLDIERS (for their bravery & sacrifice), SPORTS, SPORTSMANSHIP (the good kind), SACRIFICES (made for my benefit), SWEET TEA (Nectar of the gods), STOVES, SANGRIA

"G" = GOD (He's my Rock and He rocks!), GRAVY ('nuf said), GIRLFRIENDS (I shudder to think what my life would be like without 'em), GRANDPARENTS (They love us like crazy, even when we're brats, & they help make up our DNA, which could possibly get them thrown off my list, so let's just stop there.), GOOFY (You know, Disney's Goofy... ♥ him!), GIRAFFES (I just think they're cool), GIBRALTAR (Think "Rock of Prudential" here. I still can't believe I've actually been there!), GERBER (as in baby food... our boys ate lots of it), GRACE (Need some of it every day), GOODNESS (Strive for it every day), GIFTS (giving & receiving)

"I" = IRISES (the flowers that bloom in the spring, as well as those in my eyes), INDIANA ('cause I have family living there), INVENTIONS, INTUITION, INCOME, ICE (You really appreciate it when you can't get it!), INK, IKEA, INTERNET, IN-LAWS (They made my husband & they're pretty nice to me too.)

"V" = VICTORIES (like when my basketball team wins, or when I overcome a personal struggle... one extreme to another), VACATIONS, VACCINATIONS (What a blessing! Well, after they're over), VASECTOMIES (Just sayin'), VANILLA (ice cream, scented candles...), "V" GIRLS (Sorry, it's a private kinda club, and I really can't elaborate, 'cause not everyone is in the club), VALENTINES (especially mine), VINO, VISITING (family, friends & places)

"I" = "I" again? Geez, this one was hard the first time... let's see... ILLINOIS (where I currently live), INCLUSION (Iso much nicer than "exclusion"), INTELLIGENCE (my own, although sometimes lacking, and that of others), ICE CREAM, IDEAS (especially good ones), INSPIRATION
"N" = NAPS (one of the all-time best things invented), NAPOLEON DYNAMITE (the movie, which is hilarious & often quoted in our home), NATURE (Isn't it wonderfully amazing & beautiful?), NUTELLA (Getcha some!), NEIGHBORS (when they're nice), NOSTALGIA, NEWLYWEDS, NATIVITY

"G" = GRAPES, GUITAR HERO (I like to watch others play... I stink.), GEORGIA (I met my husband there), GARAGES (especially in the winter), GAMES, GIGGLING, GOOGLE (Love looking up info), GRAVITY (It keeps me from floating off Earth's surace), GENTLENESS

Whew! I've had fun making this list, but I'm telling you, I finally just had to make myself stop adding things because it was simply taking over my entire day. Isn't it great to have so many things for which to give thanks? Who knew? I challenge you to come up with your own list. You'll be amazed at the endless number of blessings you have in your life. Happy Thanksgiving and thank YOU for reading my blog!

Sticking Out Like a Sore Thumb

I'm gonna share a few photos with you, and I want to look at each one carefully to see if you notice a particular pattern. Go ahead. Look! I'll wait here...





You're not done yet. Keep looking. I'm still waiting.





Yes, there's a point to this.





Relax. You're almost finished.





Okay, no more pictures. I promise. What did you see?

In each photo there was one person or thing that stood out among all the others. When this occurs in my neck of the woods, you might just hear someone describe that one unique person or thing as "sticking out like a sore thumb." Familiar phrase?

Now let me ask you this... Have you ever felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb? Have you ever found yourself in a place or a situation where you felt like you stood out among all others? How did it make you feel? I was recently put in such a position and at the time it struck me as being the most embarrassing, hilarious event.

Oh, did you want me to share my experience? Sure... why not? Get ready to be entertained.

It was a Saturday afternoon and our boys needed haircuts in the worst way. No kidding. They were shaggy dogs and we'd put off the deed long enough. As luck would have it, my hubby had to go into work for a few hours, so I had to take the boys myself. That wasn't an issue, but the place we'd previously gone for haircuts is closed on Saturdays (I know... can you believe it?), therefore we had to seek out another barber/salon.

My husband told me about a place located relatively close to our house, so the boys and I decided to try it out. We found the salon, noticing the sign outside read "Kingdom Cuts." I'd never heard that name before, but it had a religious ring to it, which was cool with me.

I opened the door to the salon and the place was quite literally jam-packed with people, and all of them were African American men. (I'm getting tickled all over again as I tell the story. ☺) Every head turned and all eyes were on me and my two boys, all of us as white as can be, and clearly sticking out like sore thumbs. My immediate thought was, "I am in the wrong place. They can't cut my kids' hair here." And what was my husband thinking, telling me to come here in the first place? Only these things happen to me! I'm sure of it!

Now I realize that haircutters are trained to cut all different types of hair, but realistically, how often would you say that a haircutter in this particular establishment cuts the hair of shaggy, blond-headed boys? I figured not real often, so I turned around and started to leave, however, this man followed us out to the parking lot and asked us to return. I commented that they looked very crowded inside (And they were!), but he assured me they could fit us in.

Well... what was I to do? I mean, seriously? I didn't want to offend the man and appear to be snooty or racist. I will admit to you that I didn't really want to go inside, but it had everything to do with feeling out of place and in unfamiliar circumstances, nothing more. Well... and the fact that I didn't want anybody to jack up my kids' hair. I have to live with them, you know.

So... we went inside, sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. That's how crowded the place was. I made small talk with a couple of the patrons, who told me they were regulars. One guy said, "I saw you open the door and then turn around to leave." I said, "They looked really busy." He then said, "I figured it was because you thought you were in the wrong place." I said, "Well, that too." He and I had a good laugh over that.

Turns out those boys got the best haircuts they've had in a very long time. I couldn't believe it! When we left, I told the gentleman who cut their hair that he'd done a fabulous job, and he said, "We'll see you next time." Next time? Hmmm... Will I take them back there? I don't know.

I had to return to the salon later the same day, all because my oldest son had left his cell phone sitting in one of the chairs. When I walked in, all eyes were on me once again, and I said, "I was here earlier - " and they looked at me as if to say, "Yes, we remember you." I'm telling you, it was like an SNL skit. They had found my son's phone and returned it to me.

While I was definitely outside my comfort zone, and stuck out like a big ol' sore thumb in Kingdom Cuts, I actually enjoyed the experience and have laughed and laughed about it ever since. I'm considering taking the boys back there for future haircuts.

Homemade Frosted Sugar Cookies... Are they really worth the effort?

I'd planned on baking yesterday in preparation for my younger son's classroom Halloween party. He'd requested sugar cookies (with frosting) in the shape of pumpkins. No sweat. I had it covered, or at least I thought so, until I went to gather ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator. I quickly discovered I had no Crisco, an absolute necessity for my beloved and much-revered sugar cookie recipe, the one my family has been baking for generations. First of all, I ask you, how does any self-respectin' southern woman get by without some form of "shortnin'" (a.k.a. lard) in her cupboard? I seriously need to get my act together.

Mind you, I'd only been to the grocery store at least 3 times this week already, but I'd failed to add Crisco to my list of items to purchase. If it's not on a list, honey, it simply doesn't exist in my world. I will never, ever remember to purchase anything not on the list.

So... I had to go pick up Crisco and decided to go to Dierbergs real quick (By the way, there's no such thing as real quick in Dierbergs because they have way too many tempting goodies.), and I really should never have gone there, except I'd already been to Target, Schnucks and Wal-Mart earlier in the week, and since the commissary is a little out of the way, and all I needed was Crisco, I opted to go to Dierbergs. Let's just say I spent a considerable amount of time there and left approximatley $150 poorer. But I got Crisco!
Before heading home to begin my day of baking, I made a quick stop at the Starbucks drive-thru for a Pumpkin Spice Latte, my all-time favorite beverage at Starbucks. It's a seasonal item too, so I have to take advantage of its availability while I can. Keep in mind that I moved here just 3 months ago from overseas, where the Starbucks on base (which really is sort of Starbucks wannabe) did NOT offer this favorite beverage of mine, so you can understand how excited I am to be back in the Land o' Plenty where such things can be purchased and enjoyed, at least for a couple of months before it goes away until next fall.

I purchased my Venti Pumpkin Spice Latte, even tipped the drive-thru employee, and was about halfway home when I decided it was time to sample my beverage. I took a sip and quickly surmised it was NOT a Pumpkin Spice Latte, but a Skinny Caramel Latte. It wasn't even the right size, but I hadn't noticed in time to do anything about it, and I didn't have time to turn around and go back. I had baking to do... pronto! You know what they say about the drive-thru anyway (Cue Joe Pesci's character, Leo Getz, in "Lethal Weapon 2").

Note to self: Either go inside to order or check my order BEFORE LEAVING the drive-thru. I drank the Skinny Caramel Latte, but it just wasn't the same experience.

I baked cookies all afternoon, but had to wait until they'd cooled before frosting them. My son didn't want them to be jack o'lanterns, thank God! He just wanted orange pumpkins with green stems, certainly saving me from a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome. I kept having to take breaks to run taxi service for both boys 'cause that's what I do. I'm thinking I have a bright future in taxi driving at some point, since I get to drive all over town and have learned the streets quite well.

I walked inside my oldest son's school at 9pm to retrieve him from the gym after basketball practice and discovered I had cookie dough and frosting all over my shirt and one wrist. Hmmm... I only have like 5 aprons, but for whatever reason I can never remember to put them on when I'm working in the kitchen. I even have a couple hanging on the back of the pantry door, for heaven's sake.By the way, this is not a photo of any of the 5 aprons I own, but I do love bacon. Am I speakin' to anybody here?

I finally finished the cookies around 10pm last night. They were time-consuming, but looked dadgum good and tasted even better.They were a hit at my son's party today and he seemed very pleased. Several kids asked if I'd made them and others commented they looked "awesome." I suppose in this convenient world of ours, where we can drop by the bakery and pick up already-made cookies, it surprises folks when we actually make something ourselves. One little boy asked for seconds and later thirds of our pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies and said, "These cookies are amazing!" Of course he said that about the pizza and everything else served too, but still... I beamed and handed him that third cookie. Yep, homemade frosted sugar cookies are most definitely worth the effort!

Breathe in and breathe out and SLOW DOWN!

I thought I was prepared. I really did. I had volunteered to provide homemade cheesy chicken corn soup for my son's school as they were hosting a staff appreciation luncheon that day. I'd made the soup the night before, so all I'd have to do is reheat in the morning before dropping it off at the school.

I also made these fabulous pumpkin apple streusel muffins for Bible study as we take turns bringing food, and it just so happened to be the day our class was responsible for the grub. (By the way, both the soup and muffin recipes are courtesy of Southern Living. Need I say more?) I made the muffins the night before as well because I wanted to be ahead of the game and avoid rushing the following morning. It was a great idea in theory.

The next morning I got up and heated the soup in the crockpot. Mmmm... it smelled so good! The muffins were packed away in a Tupperware carrying case, but I ate one to be sure they were tasty, and they were, indeed, tasty. All was going according to plan until...

I showed up at my son's school, reported to the office and asked where I should deliver the soup. The office staff looked at me as if I had two, maybe even three heads. "What? What is it?" I wondered. One of the secretaries smiled and said, "We're not having a staff appreciation luncheon today. It's at the junior high." Seriously? I had taken my soup to the wrong dadgum school. I'd have bet good money that I was at the right school. What's wrong with me?

I had to backtrack and drive to my other son's school, driving very slowly because the crockpot was quite full and I didn't want it to spill, all the while realizing I was running behind and my perfectly detailed plan was beginning to unravel, slowly but surely. I dropped off the soup and then began to make my way to the church, stressed that I was going to be late. Of all days too! I hated being late, especially when I had a responsibility to be there on time with my delicious muffins that everyone was surely going to enjoy.

I was wasting no time driving to the church. In fact, I was driving a tad faster than I should have been, and it turns out I wasn't the only one who noticed. Yep, you guessed it... I got pulled over by an officer of the law. Just fabulous! I sat in my vehicle waiting for him to approach, wondering what he was gonna say and if I was gonna get a ticket. I was mortified that he left his lights flashing. Why do they do that anyway? People were driving by and glaring at me like I was a criminal, a fugitive evading the law. Or maybe I just felt embarrassed because I was so busted, although that's probably a poor choice of words. At least he didn't have the siren going too.

The policeman told me I was going 44 mph in a 30 mph speed zone. I searched my mind for a good excuse, but couldn't come up with anything that sounded convincing. He asked for my driver's license and proof of insurance and took both back to the cruiser to do whatever it is policemen do when they pull someone over for speeding. I guess they run a check on your vehicle to see if the person has other violations or something. I also think it's a great intimidation tactic, but again, I was feeling embarrassed and so busted, remember? And by then I was also thinking I was really going to be late for Bible study.

Bible study! Perhaps God will take control here and have the policeman cut me some slack because He knows I was headed to church for Bible study. Shameful, I know, because I was clearly in the wrong, but I had such good intentions that morning. I felt so defeated. I was just trying to be helpful, but I was also trying to do too much. I sat in my vehicle waiting to hear my fate (ticket or no ticket), when the tears began to fall. I kept willing myself not to cry, but just couldn't help myself.

By the time the officer returned to my vehicle, my sunglasses were all fogged up and my nose was running, and I couldn't stop the tears. I know he was probably thinking I was emotionally unstable or something. He gave me a warning only (Thanks be to God!). I told him I was glad he pulled me over because it was my cue to slow down. The officer looked like he was totally thrown off and he told me that sometimes we overextend ourselves and need to take a break. The poor man! I'm sure when he went to work that morning he had no idea he'd be counseling motorists.

I meant what I said about being glad I was pulled over by the police, and it wasn't to gain favor or pity because I'd already gotten off with a warning. I really do need to slow down and stop rushing like there's no tomorrow. So I'm trying to learn from my experience. I'm learning to breathe in and breathe out and SLOW DOWN!

Oh, and for the record, all that rushing around got me nowhere. I was late to Bible study and most people had already eaten by the time I arrived, therefore I had lots of those fabulous muffins left over. One word... humbling.

Motivation, where are you?

People, it's been over a month since I've visited here, and this is MY blog. What's wrong with this picture?

I've been attempting to get my house in order. Yes, I know we moved in more than two months ago. No, I don't have everything squared away yet. This has been the all-time slowest organization job ever for our family! We still have pictures and window treatments to hang, bins to organize and rooms to decorate. I'm so indecisive about everything. I think I need a professional to come in and just make all the decisions for me.

And the longer this process takes, the less motivation I have to deal with it all. I need some want-to-it-tiveness. I need some creativity. I need some know-how. I need some wine. I need some HELP! Anybody?