Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Public Service Announcement - They Mean It....

I don't have pictures of my big mistake and subsequent public service announcement. But I do have pictures of my dogs. The pictures have nothing to do with my very serious topic of the day, however they are cute and these shots were snapped right before the safety/common sense breach. 

What might that serious topic be? Well, you know when you watch TV cooking shows they mention that you should wear plastic gloves when chopping hot peppers?? Well that's for reals. You see. I had no idea what peppers Rob planted and since neither of us like to have out tonsils burned out didn't think he'd plant anything hotter than jalapeño. And while I was dicing up all the tomatoes that were still viable I thought I'd go ahead and harvest the tiny peppers and chop those up as well. 

Turns out the peppers were habanero. I should've remembered the important information that the size of the pepper would be a clue as well. Anyhow. I chopped those bad boys up and tossed them in a ziplock and washed my hands. That's when I first noticed the heat. My hands warmed up real nicely and tingled. Then Rob said, those are habanero not jalapeño. Since we had a Bible study at Toad Boy's house and Toad Boy loves hot I decided to take them over. And I washed my hands about three more times. In the car I touched the outside corner of my eye. Yeah. Raccoon watering followed. I entered the house, handed him the bag with the warning that they are HOT and washed my hands two more times. While eating popcorn an hour later I noticed a tingle and burn. The stupid oil was still on my hands clearly. 

This is why they recommend that you use gloves when slicing or dicing hot peppers. And they know of what they speak. That is all. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ When Morning Comes...

My dogs, and who am I kidding...me, have been suffering from the struggle of becoming conscious when rolling out into the dark, cold mornings. They lay curled into a perfect puzzle of warm doggieness and I do things like snooze my alarm, then set the 2nd alarm instead of shutting off the 1st. And taking 5 solid seconds to try to figure out what the very clear text message means. Fortunately, God created coffee. And gave dogs a keen sense of smell. And gave us all bladders. If not I get the whole hibernation thing. Great idea.

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Just So...So...You Know..

Spent last evening with the bigger grandkids while the boy went to Boy Scouts with his mama. In between reading and policing the sometimes arguing girls and keeping them out of grandpa's way while he installed a new kitchen sink, I saw a few childish art and learning projects. The third-grader is learning cursive. The four-year-old drew the family and has mastered the letters in her name plus 4, 8, and 5, so all of her scribbles include a mishmash of those conquered letters and numbers. There is nothing cuter than kid drawings and the oops of learning. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Squirrel Patrol and a DUH! Bonus

We have a few squirrels that torment Gladys and Gertrude. You know THOSE kind of squirrels. The once who know that there is a chain that lets a dog only so far, and that there is a big french door that looks out into the squirrel playground for while-the-grownups-are-at-work kinda torment. Yes, those kind of squirrels.  Its no wonder my girls are on the squirrel warpath 90% of the time. 

And this morning, bright and early I discovered something. Now this thing might have to do with the fact that I'm not fully awake most mornings when I get dressed. Should any decision before coffee count? I'm pretty sure there is a legal defense that uses lack of coffee. Right? Or I might just need to blame it on the squirrels.  Anyhoo, that said. I just now, in my 53 year of living realized that I don't have to actually follow manufacturer suggested guidelines. 

See this shirt. I love it. But a) too clingy and scoop necked to wear comfortably alone. b) long sleeved t-shirt material layered with something else equals flaming hot discomfort 48 weeks out of the year for me. Solution. Don't throw or donate the stupid top, cut the darn sleeves off and make it a layering tank. So happy. I'd take a smiling selfie but I haven't had my coffee yet.  

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Obnoxiously Sharing Cuteness

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Life Lesson #5

It's been gifted to us. We have some ownership over it. And we have a huge responsibility to not waste it. 

What is living life, Alex? 

Yes. My number #5 is that life is given to be lived. Embraced. Wrestled into submission. Owned. Whatever that looks like for each individual person, or not, life is a GIFT. 

Working in health care has introduced me to a whole lot of different people personalities and commonalities.  My 90 something patients that come in to see the doctor are more likely than not fully confident in their state of being. They actively pursue their interests and vehemently refuse to compromise. I think those who reach way up there on the age chart are those who are stubborn enough to stand firm on what they believe and feisty enough to tell it like it is, in their "humble opinion" at least.  Not that all 90+ have lived their lives giving, loving and being a blessing...nope...my friend's 90+ year old mom is a piece of work who just keeps on a ticking. But. I'm guessing my friend's mom will more than likely be stubborn and argumentative until the day she breathes her last. But it might be that stubborn spirit that is the key. So many compromise, lay down, give up and concede. Whether the war of life overcomes them, or treading water in someone else's expectations, they give up, give in. 

The past fews years have become transitional for Rob and I. The kids are out of the house, we are alone for the first time since early marriage and are discovering exactly what being alone means. Then we became Beagle parents, then overnight grandparents to three. I've found myself growing more and more stubborn and outspoken. I'm no longer trying to be nice and just get along, when that means compromising on something that is important to me.  I've struggled through music lessons that still haven't made me a comfortable musician but dang it, I'm stinking trying. I'm less inclined to play the game of growing a readership even though I have some platforms to do so. I'm still cooking and creating but sharing less because that's just a part of me and either I've done what I set out to do for me and mine or others do it better. 

There are so many parts of me.  I want to be authentic and real. And I think it's okay for me to admit that I have very few answers. And spouting off religious or popular platitudes isn't what I want to offer to the world. I want to tell the truth, maybe truth you don't agree with, but that's okay. I want to grow and embrace the relationships I have with my kids and their kids. I want to not play church but be part of the church, the one that changes lives. I don't want to give all my energy to crap. That way I have the energy required for someone else's need. More that half my life is over. I want to live it well and I want to wring all the life and love and joy out of it. When I'm dead, I want there to be a clearly empty shell of a life lived to the fullest. And I want the lingering fragrance of my life to be that of sunshine and rain and hope and love. 

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Life Lesson #4

#4 One of the biggies I've figured out, or caught or at-this-second understand is that I cannot live anyone else's life.

This is empowering and terrifying. I can't will, manipulate, shape, or pray anyone I love into being someone I wish they'd become. (Note...I said I can't, doesn't mean I haven't exhausted myself trying, ya know?)

My husband answers for himself, bears his own consequences (which are often shared with me and filed under number 9 in the marriage vows).

Our son and his wife are financially light years ahead of us when we were their age and kinda, for the most part, now. He didn't get that from our example.

Our oldest kids are spiritually discerning and mature, again far beyond who we were and what we grasped at their age. Again, not caught from our pristine example.

One kid went to college and now teaches and is so good at what he does. Another tried a class or two and works with her hands bringing joy and caffeine through the art of coffee roasting. The other just became a mommy and has embraced breast feeding and child nurturing way beyond what I ever expected.

Two of three of our kids have tattoos, one of them even has a sleeve. One of our children had to go through a lot of hell on earth to learn some basic truths. Two of the three children we've had the blessing of raising into adulthood have given homes (or are preparing to) to kids in need of a safe and secure place to grow. The other is a stepmom who loves her little guy bunches. These kids of mine give their hearts away over and over to people. 

Each of our kids is a curious and delightful blend of genetics, nature and nurture. And I don't know that I could be any prouder or feel more blessed that they are in my life. And had I been able to shape them into people who I thought they should be the world would have lost out. My kids are who they are because they aren't an extension of me. They weren't mine to sculpt, shape maybe, but not sculpt. These human gifts were only for me to take care of for awhile, never meant for my use or keeps. The blessing of their presence in my life on any level is beyond payment enough. 

And, at 53 I have come to the realization that loving HURTS. And there is no absolute security in any earthly relationship. That those we invest in, try to train, pour into, love and love and love, have choices and sometimes those choices might break our hearts.

But there is hope even then. (I have proof, powerful proof in my life and these have become Ebenezer stones where I can look back and say "God was with me then, and I know He's with me still.) The responsibility I have is to speak truth, love as and beyond I am able, to set boundaries if needed, forgive and hope. Even in the hardest of cases, there is always the hope I have in Jesus. Since He's proven Himself to me I am able to rest in the knowledge that I am not the king (or queen) of anyone's universe, and I'm good with that.