Why I Don't Need An E-book to Help Me Buy a Car, Thanks!!!

Okay, I have been getting a lot of Anonymous spam comments on this blog lately about how to go about getting a free e-book online to help when buying a new car.   So I am going to share with you how I go about shopping for a new car.

(I dial the phone.)
Me:  Hi Bobby!... er I mean Bob.  How's my favorite cousin? (to the untrained eye, it may seem I am buttering him up, but watch what happens..)
Cousin Bob:  My brother is fine, thanks....
Me:  Ha ha ha ha!  Your so funny!  And correct.   Rick always could make me laugh!  (This is how we kid each other) Though you being 10 years older than him, and 14 years older than me, we always SO looked up to you....(See the way I subtly kid him about his age ...)
Cousin Bob:  Yeah, he's a good guy.  Great sense of humor.  We go golfing every Saturday, so long as there isn't snow.
Me:  Really?  You don't let the cold weather stop you?
Cousin Bob:  Nah!  It's great weather for golfing!  No waiting for slower players like you do in Spring and Summer.
Me:  Well that sure is one way to look at it!   How are the girls?
Cousin Bob: Good, good... How about you?  So what's new with you?
Me:  Well, my husband and I have been thinking about buying a new car.
Cousin Bob:  Any particular model?
Me:  No.   We trust your judgement in what will give us good mileage and last longer than most marriages... (He and his wife have been married almost thirty years)
Cousin Bob:  Okay.  I'll give you a call when something I like comes in the dealership.
Me:  Thanks Bobby, er, I mean Bob.  We appreciate it!
Cousin Bob:  So did you read the email I sent you about using wasp spray instead of pepper spray on an intruder?
Me: I DID!  And....(blah blah blah, conversation which you are most likely not as interested in as we are continues)


So you see, Anonymous car spammers, I don't need directions to a website that will tell me how to shop for a car, I already know how!  I call my cousin the car salesman!  HELLO-OH!  And as for my friends, I'd tell them to call my cousin the car salesman!  And if they live across the country, I'd give them his email address so he could give them advice!   He's a great guy, and I don't just say that because he is my cousin!  Strangers come into the dealership he works, buy a car, and like him so well they join his softball team and invite him to their weddings!  (Seriously.  I meet these people when he barbecues in the Summer!)  I don't need your website or free e-book, and neither does my blog!

And I am positive that if Cousin Bobby, er Bob somehow sees this post, he'll be cool with the cartoon in the beginning.  He sells Chevys!

Shooting the (Text) Messenger

Welcome to a new Helen rant, in the form of an open litter. Sit back and enjoy.

To Him Who Think Breaking Up With Someone Via Text Message is Okay:

It's not. As a matter of fact, it really makes you look bad. All that effort you put into appearing to be a responsible young man went *poof*. Your ex is over you. She was over you by the time she finished reading the text message. She was in the "same place" as you in this relationship the whole time, right up to the end.

But after a year and a half, the best you can do is to text that you don't think the two of you could make a go of it, bye? You couldn't tell her that on your date the next day? COWARD! LOSER! Yes. Loser. No, not because you broke up with a great girl. She is a great girl, but that doesn't mean she was right for you. You, sir, are a loser because this great girl would have gladly been friends with you. She liked you. She had her doubts that you and her went meant to ever walk down the aisle, but she thought you were a great guy she could still be friends with. But by disrespecting her, you lost that friendship.

You also lost the goodwill you built up with her family and their friends. They always described you as a respectful young man. Do you want to know how we describe you now? "Oh, you know Ollie... He's the one who breaks up via text message...". Yeah. Good luck if you try to date any of their friends' daughters'. Oh, and they know lots of people. And those people also know lots of people, who know people. Yeah. LOSER!

Most Sincerely,

Helen

Tomorrow we shall be back with our regularly scheduled "Pleasantly Disturbed" segment rather than just merely disturbed.

Earthly Treasures

My friend Peter Pollock did a post a while back about a woman who pretty much ignores her wealth. She has real estate she never visits, and he suggests it is a waste. He then drew a parallel between her, and how we Christians sometimes treat the Gospel of Christ.

I see his point. I truly do. But it will come as no surprise to those of you who know me, that it had me thinking about dishes. I left this comment on his post.

"You make a good point.

When I was reading about the properties she ignores, I was thinking about my china cabinet. I have my mother in law's http://images.replacements.com/images/images5/chi... and my mother's good china. http://images.replacements.com/images/images5/chi... I am afraid to use it, though, because what if it breaks? I know it is not exactly an expensive antique, but any plate I replaced it with would not be the same, because it wasn't selected, washed, dried and put away with their own hands.... It just wouldn't be the same. These are more earthly treasures, and I am afraid to put them to good use... Our faith however, should not be as fragile as china, and should be able to be put to good use often."

However, I have been thinking and thinking since reading this post. Yes. About china. And crystal salad bowls. And wine glasses. I have been thinking about things that I have decided are too "special" to ever use, and so they are not being used as they were meant to be used. Seriously. My mil died with almost a full set of china, but my own mom had one soup bowl left, about half of the teacups, 9 out of 12 dinner plates... Why? Because she didn't treasure them? Hardly. They were a wedding gift from her mom, and she put them out for birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Easter... but not every day. Some pieces are missing because I used to help her do the dishes. Yes. Me. Butterfingers. I dropped some, by accident of course. Do you think Momma had a cow because treasured dishes were broken (remember, this was before Replacements.com ltd made it easy to find and restore missing pieces). No, I'd cry, and she would hug me and tell me that people are more important than things, and that I am worth more to her than the whole set (which, I KNEW meant a lot to her). She'd then pick up the pieces. I'd want to try to glue it back together. She'd refuse.

"You could cut yourself! Do you think this teacup is worth even a drop of your blood to me? Forget it. It was an accident. It is only a thing..."

I did not forget it. I remember it now. People are worth more than things. It is time to start using the family china. Perhaps on my birthday. I have already started on the good salad bowls...

Oh, and sorry for twisting up the meaning of your post in my mind, Peter. My only excuse is that my mind is random...

I See Both at the Same Time.... (Most of the Time, Anyway...)

Sharkbait hold a blog carnival of his own on Mondays. It is called "Rainy Day Monday", and the idea is to share an old post by oneself or somebody else that few people read. Here is my first contribution ever....

From September 9, 2008

I have been reading Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar. It is about understanding philosophy through jokes. I hope they don't mind if I share one with you.

An optimist says that the glass is half full.
A pessimist says that the glass is half empty.
A rationalist says that the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.


Luuuuuuuuv it! It's like the rationalist sees both at the same time. I'm not sure I'm a rationalist, but I love knowing that someone else doesn't think it has to be either / or.

My dad used to like to teach me stuff through jokes. His favorite was one he learned in Hungary as a young boy. "The King is a big man. But he still can't eat his cookies with a shovel." Maybe not philosophical, but it keeps me grounded when meeting someone who is better educated, or has more money, or name a reason they might be better than me. I remind myself they can't eat cookies with a shovel, which makes me smile as I shake their hand and converse.

I love the idea of using jokes to learn things. The blogger gadget section also has joke of the day, but I don't know yet if I want a random joke selector. What if there are naughty jokes sometimes. It's not that I never tell naughty jokes, but I usually whisper them. I know how to SHOUT on a keyboard, but I don't know how to whisper.

Have a blessed day!

Happy Thanksgiving

You all know that I haven't been posting lately because I was busy preparing for my mom's birthday, and Thanksgiving. I meant to write a post dedicated to my mom on her birthday, but things kind of got away from me. I thought maybe it would be appropriate to share with you things my mom taught me, that I am grateful for...

Mom taught me...

1) That being angry at someone hurts me more than them. Forgiving heals me. She is the most forgiving person I know.
2) That it IS my responsibility to care for those who are weaker. She used to visit and shop for the elderly on our block. No special neighborhood outreach program. No big ceremony for her celebrating her years of volunteerism at the end. Just the knowledge that she was there for people who needed her.
3) I can do what I set my mind to. Nobody ever cheered me on more than Momma.
4) We are more valuable than the things we do, but we still need to do for others to feel valuable. I don't love mom any less now that she can't walk than I did when she was able to help me with errands and stuff. She is still so cherished.... But she needs to be able to do things for others in order to feel that life is worth living. Mom doesn't run errands for me or elderly neighbors anymore, but her quiet prayers give us strength and she now makes things for families, friends, and even strangers.
5) Momma taught me to cook. She gave me the confidence to believe it is okay to change a recipe to suit my family better. When I started putting olive oil instead of vegetable oil in her bean salad recipe, she was cool with that. When I put canned tomato sauce instead of real tomatoes in Daddy's Hungarian Goulash recipe because my husband has diverticulitis, she gave me the nod to do what was best for us.
6) That BÓG (Polish for God) is watching me. Yes, when I was little, it sounded kind of like a threat. And I had a complex that God could see me when I was taking a bath. I was a modest little girl. But now that I am an adult I have a clearer picture that she meant watching over me, not spying on me. :-)
7) That it never hurts to watch the weather forecast so that I can plan for tomorrow, or, in the case of winter in Chicago, next week.
8) That you can never have too much Crystal Lite in the house.
9) That if a recipe didn't turn out just how I wanted it, don't admit it. Claim it is a new recipe...
10) People respond better to patience than to being chewed out.
11) Always wear a hat that covers the ears during Winter.
12) Have extra blankets in the car in Winter.
13) Keep an extra five dollars in your coat pocket in case you run into someone who needs money, but are afraid to open your purse. (My momma is the only person I know who could be suspicious of strangers and generous to them at the same time.)
14) Hot chicken soup will cure a cold.
15) Hot tea will cure almost anything else.
16) People like getting cards for Birthdays and Anniversaries.
17) Mom taught me how to read. Now that her eyesight is poor, we often listen to books on tape together.
18) Shortcuts aren't always bad, so long as they don't prevent you from learning the right way. I learned to tie my shoes with the bunny ears, not the rabbit through the hole...
19) Music from other cultures can be as exhilarating and uplifting as music from our own. Mom is Polish, Daddy was Hungarian, yet Mom would listen to Irish music, Italian music, German music, Mariachi music....lots of different music played in our kitchen.
20) To dance wherever I darn well please. For momma, that had been our own kitchen, sometimes the living room....For me, any supermarket in my area still courageous enough to play music (I found a fruit store in my area that still plays music, and I shop there a lot now! They even sell meat and groceries! Yayy!)

I'm sure that's not the end of it, but I have things to prepare for tomorrow, and Momma also taught me that I'd better make cooking and serving for Thanksgiving a priority! ;-)

Happy Thanksgiving, and God Bless You!

Garage, Leaves, Polish Dancing, the Library, and Research Billly Coffey Style: A Full Sunday Afternoon In Deed

(This picture isn't of the actual performance I saw, but the costumes look similar. There were lots of other costumes though, with lots of other dances. Click here to see the website of the group which performed, and pictures of some of their costumes.)

I had a great day on Sunday! We usually try to have someone care for mom once a week so that we can get out of the house together. We tried to keep it low key. We finished cleaning the garage well enough that my car will actually go in, took a ride through the forest preserve to the Des Plaines Public Library, where I was surprised to find that they had a special presentation of Polish dancers. They even did a czardas, as this region had been near enough to Hungary to be influenced by the dance and music. After the presentation, I roamed the library, picked out a book and some CD's, and met up with Bob. Then we went to Panera Bread for dinner.
That was not so much fun. Oh, the soup, salad, and sandwich half were great! It's just that while Bob went to the washroom, I ended up with an opportunity to do some research, Billy Coffey style, only I wasn't too impressed with what I was hearing.
Two young women, sophomores from a nearby university, were verbally making fun of a young man they considered awkward.
"He's always complaining about the food in the cafeteria. No body forces him to buy it!"
"He talks so loud!" (Unlike them, who I could hear at the next table without even trying...)
""He was like that in High School!"
"Someone should tell him nobody likes him."
"I'll tell him, I don't care..."
And other things that I don't care to recall. You get the gist.

It seemed from the conversation that the young man's crime was trying too hard. I suppose I saw it that way because I perpetrated similar crimes when I was in High School. I am not sure if by college, I had changed, or was surrounded by more mature people who were willing to put up with me until I was comfortable enough to let my guard down, and not try to impress anyone. I do know that when an acquaintance from High School started gossipping about me, my college friends put her in her place. (That'd be a story worth telling someday....Someone remind me when I complain on twitter that I don't know what to write about...)

I wanted so much to go up to those girls (I can't call them ladies) and give them a piece of my mind. But I didn't. I figured that they wouldn't listen to me anyway. And I was in the wrong for eavesdropping. I'm not particularly proud of this, but I did find another way to let them know how they sounded.

(My husband returns to the table.)
HRM: OH BOB, I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE BACK!
Bob: (concerned, because I usually don't greet him like that after a potty break) Is everything okay? Did something happen?
HRM: Oh NO! It's just that I was sitting here ALONE, with nothing to read or focus my attention on, and couldn't help but hear those two Caucasian girls' (there were two Asian girls talking to each other in a dfferent language nearby) to the left shallow conversation! I can't remember the last time I was subjected to such idiocy! They've been ripping apart some poor guy for being socially awkward. It must be nice to be so DANG perfect!
Bob: (slight smile) I think they heard you..
HRM: Good. Then maybe they have an inkling of what it feels like to be judged by someone who never even bothered to get to know them!

From the look on the face of the girl more or less facing me, I could tell that she heard me. Perhaps I handled this underhandedly, maybe even cowardly. My defense is that I was so angry, I could see a direct confrontation escalating to something really ugly, but would have been unable to live with myself that evening if I had not somehow say something.

What would you have done? It's okay to tell me that I should have filled my Diet Coke cup with ice, and thrown it in her face. It's also okay to tell me that I don't know the boy, and maybe he was worse than socially awkward. Don't worry. My friends have nothing to fear. I allow my friends the privilege of disagreeing with me, or even proving me wrong.

Calling Out Bruno, Carrie Anne, and Len!

Okay judges, I am calling you out NOW! Why are you being rude to the contestants on the first show? Who do you think you people are, American Idol? I don't watch AI because I don't like the way Simon talks to the contestants. You people used to be better than that. You used to critique with gentleness and finess! True, you would tell a contestant that their footwork or hip movement was atrocious, and that they needed to work on it. But that is your job. Judging these things, and explaining your decisions is what you are for..

But the name calling and mean metaphors have got to go! How dare you, Bruno Tonioli, call that young man a hobbit!

I give up watching one hour of wrestling (RAW) to see your show! If I wanted rude, I'd stick with them! I watch Dancing With the Stars to enjoy elegant dancing, elegant music, elegant costumes, AND elegant manners! Get back on it, judges. I've got my eye on you...

Stream of Consciousness

I guess you could say I am struggling with ideas for a post. I have been having serious thoughts lately, and sometimes it's hard to do serious. No, not depressing. I am not feeling sad, mad, anxious, or anything like that. Just serious. Serious is not the opposite of joyful, by the way. I have been feeling so incredibly happy and peaceful, but in a serious way.
Bob and I have been making some plans. Joyful plans. Serious plans. I don't think I have ever felt so happy and serious at the same time since marrying Bob. Plans that I am almost scared to share. I'm scared that these plans will fail, and my failure will be documented in cyber space for the world to see. Which kind of reeks of hubris, since the "world" isn't reading my blog, a tight knit group of friends are. So maybe I lied. Maybe I am anxious...

"Do not let your heart be troubled. Trust in God. Trust also in me." John 14:1

If any verse has been a "life verse" for me, this has been it. Not because I do it well, but because it is what I need to be reminded of...

Trust is tough though when you aren't sure if everything you are hoping and planning for is going to fall through, and leave you without any more hopes and dreams. Which makes me wonder if I have been making my own hopes and dreams my idol...

"Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent,[c] nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God." John 1:12-13

Am I allowed two life verses? Because it means everything to me to know that I am a child of God no matter how screwed up my thoughts or feelings are, because Jesus is my Savior. That isn't going to change no matter how these plans pan out...

I Am the Wind

When I was in High School, this was my favorite poem. In fact, I think it still is at this moment...



"I AM THE WIND"
by Zoe Akins

I am the wind that wavers,
You are the certain land;
I am the shadow that passes
Over the sand.

I am the leaf that quivers,
You the unshaken tree;
You are the stars that are steadfast,
I am the sea.

You are the light eternal,
Like a torch I shall die...
You are the surge of deep music,
I - but a cry!

Mamma Mia!

Okay, people. I posted this on August 8, 2008. I am reposting this because a) My husband gave me the DVD for our anniversary on July 20, so the movie is on my mind, and b)My computer is possibly still down, and I don't want you to have to go to long without hearing from me. Besides, most of you didn't know me yet when I wrote this, so you probably haven't read it yet. If you are katdish, you read it, but will enjoy rereading about my kookiness and looking at new comments. Win, win, everybody wins here on Random Musings....

Written on August 9, 2008
I am so excited I can barely type! My mom hired someone to take care of her this afternoon, and my husband and I went to see Mamma Mia! I know the critics hated it, but I loved it! The scenery was amazing! The plot had me crying practically throughout the movie, and when I wasn't crying, I was laughing. I did not sing along, since the previews request that we not add our own soundtracks.
I cried for the girl, who longed to know her father. I cried for the mother, who found herself in a pickle due to previous sin. Yes, I know, we are responsible for our own sins, and thus, the consequences. That doesn't mean I can't feel sorry for the sinner. After all, I am one too. My sins are different, but no better (or worse). God doesn't say some sins are ugly, and some are not so bad or down right cute. So anyway, I felt deeply sorry for both mother and daughter. I also cried at the partially happy ending (I won't spoil it and say why it was only partially happy. If you see it, you will want to be surprised!)
I thought is was funny in the way all musicals are funny, with people dropping what they are doing and parading around to sing. But real life isn't like that. I know, I've tried it in the supermarket. People did not follow me and start singing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, but the workers at Dominick's always ask if they can help me with anything as soon as they see me. Either the Dominick's in Park Ridge is a very friendly place, or they didn't like my singing voice and are trying help me get out faster so they won't have to hear it again. I'm good with it either way.
Have a great weekend. I already have!


I still heartily recommend the movie on DVD. The scenery was more awe inspiring on the big screen, but it is still lovely, and the storyline is very moving. Come on guys. Take a Chance on Me...or at least my recommedations. ;-)

A Time for Peace...

Ecclesiates 3:1-8
3:1 For everything there is a fixed time, and a time for every business under the sun.

3:2 A time for birth and a time for death; a time for planting and a time for uprooting;

3:3 A time to put to death and a time to make well; a time for pulling down and a time for building up;

3:4 A time for weeping and a time for laughing; a time for sorrow and a time for dancing;

3:5 A time to take stones away and a time to get stones together; a time for kissing and a time to keep from kissing;

3:6 A time for search and a time for loss; a time to keep and a time to give away;

3:7 A time for undoing and a time for stitching; a time for keeping quiet and a time for talk;

3:8 A time for love and a time for hate; a time for war and a time for peace.


That's my excuse for my letting go to grief and sadness yesterday. I can't fight it. If I let go to it, the next season comes all the quicker. If I fight it, I lose, but the battle may take days. I have learned to give in to sorrow, and when it is spent, look at what I have gained instead of what I have lost. Knowing Elizabeth has definitely been more gain than loss. Plus, there is a saint in heaven right now who holds me in her affection. How cool is that?

I know we have heard this song a thousand and one times, but I love to listen to it on days of renewal....

What Passes For Wisdom

Bob and I went to see "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past" yesterday. I enjoyed it. Yes, it was a "chick flick". I like those. And Bob likes it when I have those "I am so glad you are with me..." moments, so it is kind of win-win. Momma always says that while men may not want their women to be constantly clingy, once in a blue moon helps them feel appreciated.
Anyways, it was a good movie, but it used the quote "Whoever cares the least in a relationship, has the power." I never realized before that that was common advice. A couple of married (oy vey!) female friends gave me that advice when I was engaged to Bob. These were women who were happily married (at the time). I had thought at the time "Eh, who needs power in marriage? I am going to love him with reckless abandon!". And I do. And we are really happy. I am not trying to give anyone a formula for a happy marriage. I know it to be a blessing from God, and I am very grateful. I would say that after salvation, it is the number one blessing in my life that I never want to lose (remember, I don't have kids. I might be tempted to put them before my marriage if I had them, but that is another issue...) I even get how this might be useful in the early stages of dating, when rejection is a very real fear. Who wants to feel rejected and powerless? Ugh! How did we come to this place where people protect their hearts from their own spouses? I asked my husband, and he too was given similar advice "back in the day".
So, I asked my husband who holds the power in our marriage (ie who cares more). He replied "It varies....". Now THAT is a wise answer.
Oh, in case you are wondering, the movie showed the premise the quote in an unfavorable light as well. The moral of the story was....caring is good. Speaking of quotes, who is it that said something about the same stories being told over and over again throughout time? If no one knows, I will just claim that it's me.

Sonntagnachmitagspazergang: You Can 't Go Home Again...

My husband and I love the word Sonntagnachmitagspazergang. It means Sunday afternoon walk. In German, it is one word. My husband is a collector of odd words, so he loves this really word. I like Sunday afternoon walks. Especially in the park.
While my mom's caretaker stayed with her, Bob and I went to Gompers Park in Chicago for a Sunday afternoon walk. This park is about three blocks from the house I grew up in. In the middle of this park is a lagoon. How I loved that lagoon. My dad and mom used to take me for walks by the lagoon. Dad took me fishing there, because I wanted to go. I cried when we caught one, and insisted we throw it back in. Daddy shrugged and threw it back in. At camp we used to have sailboat races on that lagoon. I used to walk around that lagoon when I was depressed in High School. My husband and I walked around there a lot when we were dating. It was ........special. And from any point in the park you could see the lagoon. NOT ANYMORE! My beautiful view is now obstructed with shrubbery and a CHICKENWIRE FENCE! A CHICKENWIRE FENCE! Along the CHICKENWIRE FENCE there are paths between made of rock, so you can walk up and fish. THOSE FREAKING ROCKS made what was once a beautiful and safe place to play a hazard! Okay, if they had existed already, I wouldn't have said tear them down. But they have stolen something from every child in that neighborhood. Yeah, you can fish, but what about the boat races? What about being able to step into the very middle of the lagoon to get a stuck sailboat? Not if you don't want to cut yourself on a jagged rock! What about fishing ALL ALONG THE LAGOON! In the spring and summer, we were scattered all over the banks of the lagoon. AND IT WAS GLORIOUS! Some kids even ice skated on that little pond. Not me. Overprotective parents. What a loss! The old folks were right. You can't go home again...
Which reminds me of something funny, on the other hand. I recently got myself a facebook page. It is kind of neat. I have friended some blogger friends, and I have looked up some friends from HIgh School and College. I also looked up a boy I had a crush on for three years in grammar school. He now looks like my Uncle Ray. Now, I am not saying that Uncle Ray wasn't good looking back in the day, but no one has a crush on someone who reminds them of an Uncle. That is like a major EEEEEWWWW factor. Like they say, you can't go home again.....

Think Well of Your Church Family

Earlier this week I did a post called Think well of your friends. Since then I have been feeling like I wasn't totally honest. I threw Greg under the bus, but, you see, I misjudge people, too.
I started going to my parish a few years ago. Several times there was a man who sat behind me who I was frightened of. Why? Well, he was husky, had a mustache, and a very gruff look on his face. He always smiled quite friendly like during the sign of peace, but he otherwise looked angry. At least I thought he looked angry. It turned out, he was just tired.
This man was a police officer who worked the night shift. Why? So that he could be home to take care of his disabled stepdaughter while his wife was at work. How gentle is that? Taking care of a disabled stepchild....Working a crummy shift so that he and his wife could take turns caring for her...Apparantly he was an amazing individual that I didn't get to know because I misjudged his tired expression (he came to Church right after his shift, before going home. Wow. Honoring God before going to bed after working the night shift....) for an angry one.
Had I not prejudged, and instead said, "Hi, my name is Helen, this is my husband Bob...." I might have found these things out before he died. He died in the line of duty last year. I didn't go to the wake or funeral. I needed to stay home with mom, and the crowd for a policeman's wake or funeral is deservedly large. I found out all these things from people talking at meetings about what a tragedy his death was, what a wonderful man he was, and about how his stepchildren spoke of him being more a father than a stepfather to them at his funeral.
What bothers me more than not actually ever getting to know this individual, is wondering what God had in mind for me when I noticed that man's expression. Was I supposed to be friendly, and ignore his expression? Was I supposed to ask him how he was, and offer some compassion? Whatever I was meant to do, I know I didn't do it. I didn't do it because I decided to be afraid of him because I prejudged his expression. I know God forgives me for my error. I also know that the man in question most likely did not know I was afraid of him any more than I knew he was tired. But still, I missed the boat. Next time, I hope to offer compassion, instead of fear. I also hope God trusts me with a "next time"...

Think Well of Your Friends....

This post was supposed to be about prejudgement, but it is turning into something else in my head. Lack of openness is as much a part of this as is prejudgement. See, I was reading a fellow bloggers post asking for prayers for a dying friend named JoAnna (whom if you would be so kind as to pray for her complete healing, I am sure he would appreciate that). Somehow that got me thinking about my father's wake several years ago. I got to thinking about a conversation I had with a neighbor that day, who was once a good friend of my dad's, but they drifted apart...

Greg: Tsk. Such a shame. He probably could have recovered better if he didn't drink...
Helen: Greg, dad didn't drink for the last 15 years. Not even when I graduated from college. He said when I was about 8 that as he gets older, he finds it makes him sick. He couldn't handle more than one drink without get nauseous, so he stopped drinking all togetherl (making it hard for him to get along with drinkers in the family who thought accepting a drink was equal to accepting hospitality. "Love me, love my whiskey..").
Greg: Helen, I saw your dad come home staggering...
Helen: Greg, he worked twelve hour days in a hot factory and had half a foot on one leg, varicose veins throbbing in both legs....What do you expect?
Greg: Half a foot?
Helen: Yeah. It was from a farming accident when he was a boy.
Greg: Why didn't he tell me?
Helen: Why would he?
Greg: When I said something about his staggering....?
Helen: I guess he would rather have you thinking he was drunk than pitying him.

Greg and I continued with a little small talk, then I left to talk to others. Someone soon asked me who he is, because he was weeping. I just said he was an old friend of dad's. They said that he must have loved him a lot. I imagine (though I may be prejudging myself), that he was weeping over years where their friendship could have continued beautifully if he hadn't misjudged, or if my dad had trusted him enough with the knowledge of his injury. They both screwed up, and paid a price. Neither of them assumed the best about their friend, but the worst. I am going to work harder to assume the best about my friends, family, and people around me, instead of the worst. When I weep at their wakes, I want it to be because I feel sorry for the loss to their families and myself of the future with them, not the past.
I also am going to work at being honest with my friends about stuff. No more "fine", if it isn't. Doesn't "fine" when things aren't fine tempt people to draw their own conclusions, which may hurt them more than finding out what is wrong? I am going to assume that they are loving enough to take the truth about me, whatever it is.
Sorry if I sound like Polly Anna. But my dad had a saying. "Sure, people learn from their mistakes. But smart people are able to learn from the mistakes of other". I hope I am smart enough to truly learn from their mistake. I hope you all are able to get something from it, too.

What I learned this week..

Steph at the Red Clay Diaries is sharing another "What I learned this week.." and I thought I would share mine. This week, I learned that when my feet swell, it is okay to put them up. Obvious you say? Well, sometimes I feel like I need to be doing stuff. This past week, the more I do, the less I am capable of. The swelling gets so bad some days I can't put on my shoes, but it has been better since I have given myself permission to put my feet up, lie down, or whatever I need to do in order to get my feet small enough to wear shoes again. I also bought an ankle brace to see if that will prevent swelling, and am going to try it tomorrow. But if I need to, the world does not fall apart if my feet go up. (Okay, I'm not a mom. For moms, especially of toddlers, that might not be true...)
I know..the profoundities never end on this blog, do they...When I say random musings, I really mean random musings...from Church to swollen feet in a day...at least you all get a day off from me tomorrow. ;-)

The Top Five List of Things I Love About My Church

Good Morning, friends! Yesterday while at Church, I kept thinking how easy it is to complain about things and people at Church, yet there is so much I love about my Church. (I know! Distraction, or inspiration from the Holy Spirit? Not sure. I probably should have been concentrating harder on the Mass) It is easy to get stuck in the rutt of complaining about programs, gossip, preaching style, music, architecture, and the list goes on. Many of these things do need to be addressed. But, I had to ask myself, have I addressed these things so much that joy has stopped shining through? I reallly do love my Church. So, I decided to start a meme (is that allowed? To start a meme on one's own? It seems these things just get passed around without an orgin.): Five things I love about my Church. Some of what I will list is (or should be) true of any Catholic Church, some is unique to my parish, St. Monica in Chicago. (There, I've said it. Now they can find me.....)
1) Holy Communion. I love being united with Christ and His people in Holy Communion. I love the way that during those moments, I can sit silently with the Lord and easily be at peace in a way that is not so easy otherwise. I start lifting my prayers, and I feel HIm say "Shhhhh. I know. Just be. I know....". Then I just thank Him....and I don't need to make a list. I can just feel thankful, and know He knows....
2) The Sacrament of Reconciliation. This is also known as Confession. I love going to Confession. The cleansing experience is true for any Catholic Church, but St. Monica is unique because....
Fr. Andrew--Here is a priest who smiles during Confession (did I mention I like to go face to face?) and assures before during and afterward that Jesus is so happy to forgive me. He reminds me of the story about how the angels rejoice in Heaven when a sinner repents. He seems to be rejoicing through the whole Confession.
Fr. Ted--He has given me some great advice during Confession. He is a wise man.
Fr. William--He knows how to tell it like it is. He'll come right out and say (but gently), yeah, that was pretty bad, but God forgives you. He loves you. Don't do it again. Like Jesus had said "go forth and sin no more..."
Fr. Jim--He balances the four strengths of the others pretty well. One doesn't seem to pop out, but I can think of examples of all three with him.
Somehow, I have been blessed to have the right Confessor there at the right time.
3)This Sunday we filled out cards to our Senators and Representatives asking them to fight FOCA. It is a losing battle in IL, yet we are encouraged to fight the good fight. And the homily was about why abortion is wrong, with a reminder that Jesus forgives all sins, including abortion. Father also let us know what help was available in the Archdiocese for women who had already had abortions.
I was glad to hear a prolife homily preached, but even more glad that hurting women were invited to healing..
4) Our pastor preaches on the evil of gossip. Often. And boy, can my parish use it! There is this one woman named Helen, who thought she was above such things, but boy is she wrong! She gossipped about someone a couple of weeks ago, and.....hopefully you figured out that I am that Helen. I am so ashamed. I confessed my sin, and I know God forgives me. What I don't know is whether the person I talked about knows what I did. I suspect so, and I long to apologize. I long to ask this person for forgiveness. I think this person's behavior toward me changed, but what if it is just my guilty conscience? What if I am just hurting someone else in order to feel better? I can't make this right. Even Fr. Jim ( remember above? He incorporates many gifts during the Sacrament of Reconciliation) could only advise me to pray. There are many good stories to illustrate what makes gossip bad. The point of all of them is that it is humanly impossible to make it right again. I wish I paid attention to that before I partook in it.
5) Our pastor, Father Ted, became a priest later in life. I think he was in his fifties, which I don't mean to suggest is old, but he certainly experienced the outside world before becoming a priest. It is not that I don't respect priests who started young, because I do. But I appreciate the fact that when Fr. Ted speaks, there is no dismissing him by silently claiming he is sheltered. He worked in Hollywood...he has seen more of life than this 39 year old married woman. Whether I think his homily is the most brilliant one uttered by man since St. John Vianney, or .......not, dismissing him would not only be a sin on my part, it would be naive. (How is that for an oxymoron---sinful naivete?)


How about you? What do you love about your Church? I know we could probaby go up to 25, 50, even 100 things, but, in the interest of time and space, let's keep it to the top five things please.

New Bed = New Woman

Wow! On Saturday our brand new king size bed was delivered. We needed a new mattress, and Bob always wanted a king size bed, so I told him it's now, or ten years from now when a brand new mattress needs replacing again. Bob was overjoyed. I personally didn't think we needed a bigger bed. But, we bought one. I took Katdish's advice and bought awesome sheets, since we didn't have sheets to fit a king size bed: 610 thread count. I don't think I ever slept on a sheet that comfortable! When I got to Carson's to get this brand new awesome sheet, it turned out to be "Community Day", which meant I bought I five dollar coupon book (proceeds benefit Catholic Schools in Chicago), and in return I got 4 coupons worth 15% off of bedding (10% off electronics, 20% off most other stuff, not good at all on cosmetics) and a $10 coupon. I went wild! I bought: a plush mattress pad with comforter and two pillows included, 2 king sized pillows, a sheet set with fitted, flat, and 2 king sized pillow cases, and an extra set of pillow cases.
This morning I woke up feeling better than I have in years! My back doesn't hurt! My arms don't hurt! My shoulders don't hurt! My hips don't hurt! My neck doesn't hurt! The only thing that hurts are these durn blisters I got on my feet from running around feeling so good! I gotta do something about these orthotics! My ankles still hurt, but heck, lets blame the orthotics for that too! I don't know whether to credit a new mattress or new bed or both for feeling like a new woman, but today I feel great! I think I will write a haiku, dedicated to our new bed!

Comfortable bed
I appreciate you now
I feel so renewed.


You think that's weird, someday I'll share the love poems I wrote to my dishwasher and crock pot.

Soothed by Whitesnake?

It's true. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. Ice on the car and in the driveway, a need to go to the pharmacy, and a long wait made for a crabby Helen.
Actuallly, coming home from the pharmacy, I was furious. I had to wait forty minutes for a prescription that I called in three days ago. Why? Because the lady ahead of me was given the wrong prescription an hour earlier, and she had to come back to have the right prescription done. I was furious for both of us. I didn't report the pharmacist, since the lady ahead of me really wasn't my business, but I was really ticked off. Especially when I heard the pharmacist say to her at the end "I don't know why the doctor prescribed that for your child. Most doctors prefer what I gave you....which is probably why I got confused...." The woman needs to take lessons in apologizing! I get that she wants to reassure the mom that her kid wouldn't have died from taking the medicine, but how about "I am sorry. Just so you know, what I gave you was a possible option for your child's condition, so he wouldn't have been harmed..." Even then, she isn't the doctor, so she couldn't know why the doctor preferred what he prescribed for the child. So anyway, I was furious for having to wait for something I had called in, and should have been able to pick up without any problem, and for the woman who has to spend an extra hour getting the medicine her child needs because of a pharmacist who not only made a mistake, but tried to make like it was the doctor's fault somehow.....
Then, driving home, Whitesnake's Here I Go Again was playing on the radio. There I go, singing along, remembering how cool I thought the person singing the lyrics sounded. I remember hoping I would be able to say I was cool one day....


Here I Go Again lyrics

I don't know where I'm going
But, I sure know where I've been
Hanging on the promises
In songs of yesterday
An' I've made up my mind
I ain't wasting no more time
But, here I go again
Here I go again
Tho' I keep searching for an answer
I never seem to find what I'm looking for
Oh Lord, I pray
You give me strength to carry on
Cos I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams
An' here I go again on my own
Goin' down the only road I've ever known
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
An' I've made up my mind
I ain't wasting no more time
I'm just another heart in need of rescue
Waiting on love's sweet charity
An' I'm gonna hold on
For the rest of my days
Cos I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams
An' here I go again on my own
Going down the only road I've ever known
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
An' I've made up my mind
I ain't wasting no more time
But here I go again
Here I go again
Here I go again
Here I go again
Cos I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams
An' here I go again on my own
Going down the only road I've ever known
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
An' I've made up my mind
I ain't wasting no more time
An' here I go again on my own
Going down the only road I've ever known
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
Cos I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams


All I can say is to that is that I am glad I am not "like a drifter, I was born to walk alone....". I am glad I have people walking the walk with me. And between singing a song from my youth at the top of my lungs, and knowing that happy is better than cool, I was in a much better mood....

My first posts...

Okay, a bunch of my blogger friends are reposting their first blog entries so here we go. Yes, I know I linked to this on February 3, my blog's birthday, but here we go again..


In the beginning....
February 3, 2008
Several days ago I had a dream.  My dad gave me a journal.  It was not a special occasion, he just decided to give me a gift.  I responded by telling my dad that I haven't written since I was in college.  He seemed disappointed, and reminded me that I always wanted to be a writer.  I told him that was when I had silly dreams, and thought I had something significant to say.  I have realized that I am neither silly nor significant any more.  His answer to me was to write something.

So here I am, writing a blog.  I don't know whether he was speaking to me through my dream (he has been dead for 14 years) or if the wiser part of my brain is telling me I need a creative outlet.  But I have decided that it is time to  write.

Aww, not silly or significant, huh? Wasn't I cute, believing I had changed so much? In some ways, I still am who I used to be. Why does that seem like a new discovery? The idea that I am still me, twenty years later. I have changed, but I have not turned into someone else.

I Hate Spam
February 4, 2008
No not the luncheon meat. I have never tried that, but my husband says it is excellent fried. A friend of his likes it with peanut butter. No, I mean the type of spam that provides no nourishment or satisfaction of the palette whatsoever. I mean the sort of spam that has me standing on my cyberchair screaming "eek!"

I don't know how I've done it, but I have managed to be the recipient of some of the most vile e-mail product advertisements I can imagine (it is true though, that when it comes to filth, I do not have much of an imagination). I "unsubscribe" from the e-mail listings, only to have the same subject headers come up in by inbox. I am tempted to get another e-mail address, send the info to all my friends, and let the spammers have the old one, with me not so much as glancing at it. But what if the spammers get the new one? How far can I run in cyberspace? Is there a cyberrock or cybertree for me to hide behind? Until then, I may pretend that my delete button is a laser gun and zap the spam right in the return key.

Boy, I have a couple of recipes for spam now. Cool, huh? Yeah, too bad email spam for nasty things women don't need can't be dealt with as easily. I actually did get another email address, which worries me, because I sign into my blogger account with my old address, and I can't figure out how to switch. If blogger tried to contact me with my sign in email, I would be so unaware.....