MEN!

I'm not sure how many male readers stop by here but I do know that I have precious few fellas who sign the guest book.

And guys? That could change any time. I don't mind hearing from you. Really!

However, I do know that there is at least one (male) brave, articulate and literate guest book signer out there. You all may know him by the nickname I've given him, The Wonderful Wyatt. Wyatt does all of the fabulous graphics that you see on Sarah's site.

Apart from his graphics work and his endless patience with my endless computer questions, I always knew there was something special I liked about Wyatt. And his recent guest book entry let me know what that extra something special was.

I am re-posting his entry here:

Debbie McKee (Little Debbie) was four years old in 1960 when her grandparents decided to use her name and image in the snack cake company logo.

My father and his brother partnered to bring the very first Little Debbie franchise to North Carolina in 1962. They mortgaged their homes and tapped their savings to pay the franchise fee, purchase a new delivery van and buy their first inventory of snack cakes -- Oatmeal Creme Pies and Devil Creme Cakes.

Little Debbie -- medicine for the soul.


Okay ladies! Let's hear it for Wyatt's dad and uncle who worked so hard at being a part of the first efforts to get Little Debbie snack cakes into our desperate, chocolate-craving hands!

Hip, hip, hooray!

(Although maybe "hip" isn't the best word choice here because after all, the hips are the body parts most affected by the consumption of those snack cakes.)

Alrighty then. Moving right along . . .

My second reference to men today refers back to my post when I was wailing and whining about my inability to make (or spell) tiramisu. Shortly after I wrote that post, I received an email from Pastor Tom, a long time family friend. Back in the days when we were on the road full time, we sang several times at his church on Long Island. Pastor Tom is Italian through and through and if an Italian doesn't know about tiramisu, who does? In his email he said:

Becky,

Although I hardly qualify as one of those people you describe as "people with a superior intelligence," I do know what "tiramisu' " means. It's Italian for "pick-me-up," or transliterated, "pull-me-up."

I'll also include an Italian recipe to help you out next time you attempt that sinfully caloric concoction on Steve's 53rd birthday.

"Dolce composto da una crema fatta con uova, zucchero, mascarpone e panna, disposta a strati alternati con pan di spagna o biscotti bagnati nel caffè e liquore; il tutto ricoperto da un velo di cacao in polvere.

Get it?

Tom G


Now wasn't that helpful! How often does one get the opportunity to read an impossible recipe in a foreign language? When I forwarded the email to Steve, he just laughed out loud; getting emails from Pastor Tom always bring a smile.

And today's final reference to men goes back to a post from several days ago when I included a picture of Steve as he graduated from High School. I thought it would be fun to re-post that picture along with one of Nathan at the same age.































And just because I've heard a few people over the years say that they think Sarah looks more like Steve than Nathan does, I've included a picture of Sarah for comparison purposes. (We need at least ONE rose among the thorns today!)

Ain't she so purty?

In closing, I just want to mention that Steve is heading out to Charlotte this morning to spend a few days; his mom is having hip replacement surgery tomorrow morning and he wants to do whatever he can to be a help to his parents.

Steve was talking to them both on the phone last night and found out that his mom has to be at the hospital (the same hospital where Nathan was born!) at 5 am. Steve and his dad sort of laughed and said to her, "Okay, well why don't you just go ahead and take a taxi to the hospital and we'll arrive about 8:30."

Nice fellas, those Smith men.

And while we're on the subject of surgery, my dad (in Wisconsin) is also having surgery tomorrow morning for the removal of a large kidney stone. He was on the table to go into emergency surgery last Thursday when they took one final look at his chart and realized he was on a blood thinner. NOT a good thing for surgery purposes.

Steve and I have both been blessed with fabulous parents and our prayers and love go with Vernie and Ed during their surgeries tomorrow.

Quiet and Witty

Thanks to those of you who signed the guest book in response to our Marijuana Shirt Conundrum. Your advice and all your funny comments were most helpful. Not to mention entertaining. It's nice to know that we have a virtual community of friends that can help us through the sticky wickets of life.

Actually, I'm not sure if I just used sticky wickets the proper way but I've always wanted to find a way to incorporate sticky wickets into my writing. And that means that I have just fulfilled one of my Life Goals!

There now. Wasn't that easy?

That's just one example of why it's good to set the bar low when it comes to goal setting. What if one of my goals had been to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro? Do you think I could have accomplished THAT in ten seconds on a Friday morning? I think not.

So what have we learned, boys and girls? Set SMALL goals for yourself!

(I'm kidding, okay?)

Which brings me to an interesting query that I always love talking with people about. Have you set any "life goals" for yourself that you have reached? Or have you set some goals that you haven't yet reached but you are quite certain that you will?

What are they? Do tell! I think we could all use some inspiration today and what's more inspiring than hearing about a variety of goals that have been reached? (Or are at least reachable!) I promise you that you'll have plenty of avid avid readers if you'll write something.

And speaking of inspiration, I could definitely use some extra "inspiration sprinkles" in my life right about now.

The last couple days have not been easy ones for me. I'm started to feel "soggy" (Sarah's term for not feeling happy) and disheartened about how long this whole transition process is taking. And because of that stress (among others), it seems like I've been tempted to cry over any ol' thing.

For instance, yesterday I was in Wal Mart and ran into an old church friend. We chatted a minute and she closed the conversation by saying how much she loved us and missed us.

That was it. Just a few words.

Well, those few words set my tear ducts to hoppin'. (If tear ducts can indeed hop.) I quickly made my way to the sparsely populated bread department and stared furiously at the selections of wheat bread while sniffling my way through five Kleenex and trying to get a grip. I was concentrating on keeping my back turned to the store and hoping that no one would come near and wonder why the sight of a hundred loaves of wheat bread was reducing me to tears.

Woman Found Weeping In Wal Mart Bread Aisle. Story at Eleven!

I feel stressed right now over a lot of things but especially the thought of moving and finding my place in a new town, community and church. I think about the challenge of finding a dozen "replacement" doctors and specialists for Sarah's long term follow up and I think about Sarah having to start at a new school in the 8th grade--probably one of the most difficult ages to make a new start. (Plus, she'll be wearing hearing aids which won't make the transition any easier.) And of course, if you've ever moved, there are many other things to worry in advance about, as well.

Hmmmm. I think that "worrying in advance" may very well be one of my gifts! In fact, I can worry in advance, I can worry while going through something and then I am also able to worry while looking back at it. Although I may make it look very easy to do, don't try this at home!

Anyway, as hard as the whole transition thing is to contemplate, it makes it all the harder that it's not happening yet. And the longer we wait, the more stressed I feel. And then I end up crying in Wal Mart.

And eating Little Debbie snack cakes.

I don't suppose anyone out there can relate? At least to the snack cakes? Someone? Anyone?

After I got home from Wal Mart yesterday, Steve and Nathan helped me unload my groceries and then the three of us ate lunch together. I was trying to pull my fragile, enfeebled emotions together and make an attempt to be somewhat cheery but after about six minutes Nathan gave me one of his intuitive glances and said, "Mom, you seem to be in a funny mood."

I looked at him with great innocence and said, "Funny? What do you mean by funny?"

He said, "Well, you're saying your usual interesting and witty things but you seem kind of quiet. Like you're being sort of quiet and witty at the same time. Are you okay?"

I had to smile at his keen observation. Nathan is the kind of guy who doesn't always say a whole lot but he's always watching, observing, and noticing things other people overlook. I wasn't at all surprised that he stuck a proverbial finger in the air and got a "reading" on which way the emotional winds were blowing. He will make some woman a great husband, especially in the "feelings department."

And he is already making "some woman" a great son. I do love my oldest male child enormously and am so thankful to have him home for the summer.

Steve is glad to have him around, too. Especially today, when the next job on his To Do List was to stain the deck. Don't they look like they're having a swell time? (Double click on picture to make it larger.)

They're outside being productive and I'm inside being quiet.

And witty.

And eating snack cakes.

Hey, it works for me!

The Marijuana Shirt

Before I get on with the gist of this update, let me mention a couple miscellaneous items.

First of all, the question was asked in the guest book about what tiramisu is. (Since it's been mentioned in several recent posts.) Tiramisu is a mysterious dessert that can only be properly prepared (and spelled) by people with a superior intelligence, people who are able to grasp the complexities of putting together mascarpone cheese, a certain kind of ladyfinger which I seem unable to locate, coffee and other mysterious ingredients and turning it all into a delectable dessert which is usually served at nice restaurants. (But alas, never served in the Smith house, although the Smith Mister loves it.)

Some of you out there in Smithellaneous Land actually took pity on me after my recent plaintive posts on the subject and gave me some leads on where I could buy it; I was also sent a recipe that looked fairly do-able. So maybe, just maybe, our house will not remain tiramisu-less forever.

My second pre-Marijuana Shirt subject is Sarah's Spot. I know I promised (in an unguarded moment) that I would mention it here whenever I posted on her site. But I seem to always forget to do that and then I always feel badly about not doing it and then I promise myself that I will do it the next time and then I forget and then then . . . well, you can see the problem.

So here's the deal. If I happen to write about something of great import on her site--for instance, if she suddenly grew nine inches overnight, or if she were invited to play Taboo with the Obama Family or some such thing, I will mention the update here. Otherwise, just click your way over there whenever you have an extra moment to check in. And then I will be able to stop feeling guilty and conflicted and stressed over not remembering to tell you that I posted.

Got that? Good.

Okay. Finally, on to the Marijuana Shirt.

Recently, Steve found a shirt on clearance that he really liked. He bought it. And wore it. And looked exceedingly handsome in it.

However, some of his minister friends started giving him a hard time about it, saying that his shirt was sporting marijuana leaves.

As most of you know, Steve is a minister. And as a rule, ministers don't make a practice of advertising marijuana on their clothing. And more importantly, Steve is also a former marijuana user who is very much aware of the many damaging effects of that particular substance. So Steve was more than willing to get rid of the shirt if it truly was spouting marijuana leaves; he just hoped he wouldn't have to.

In case any of you happen to be marijuana leaf experts (you don't have to raise your hands, or anything) here is a picture of the shirt in question.

And here is a marijuana leaf.



If you carefully study Exhibit A and then compare it with Exhibit B, you will clearly note that a marijuana plant has seven leaves and the plants "growing" on Steve's shirt have only five leaves.

Whew!

That is great news for Steve's wardrobe; the shirt is LEGAL in all fifty states! And better yet, he can wear it with a clear conscience.

Now if anyone knows precisely what plant it is that sports FIVE leaves, please let us know so that when one of Steve's minister friends feels compelled to give him a hard time, he can whip out his newly acquired knowledge and say, "Marijuana plants have SEVEN leaves and (fill in the blank) plants have only FIVE leaves." That way he'll be fully equipped to defend his shirt wearing choice.

Since I'm on the subject of shirts, I took Steve with me to Goodwill this past week and he found four great shirts for fourteen bucks! Go, Goodwill!

So as of today, he's not only got four "new" shirts but also a newly sanctioned non-marijuana shirt that he can keep on wearing with no guilt! How great is that?

Well, I guess I've written enough about marijuana leaves for one day. (smile) I'll be leaving in a little while to take Sarah to Duke for her speech therapy. A four hour slot in my day devoted just to Princess Groovy Chick?

Sounds like a good deal to me!

How Fun Was That?

Well, it's confession time again.

Not only did I not make Steve a cake for his actual birthday (of course, I DID know his real party and real cake were coming two days later), but I also made the poor man help cook his birthday dinner! Look at him, slaving away here.

And if you're wondering if it was our intention to get every dish in the house dirty in the cooking process, the answer is a big ol' yes! I think we did rather well in reaching our goal.

Snowy, of course, was on hand for the whole event, watching carefully in case anyone needed assistance in picking up dropped food items. He's good like that.



And where was I?

I was afraid you would ask that.

While Steve was cheerily chopping, slicing and dicing, I was happily snoozing in the big chair. And yes, I did try to find a pose that would show off my double chin to its best advantage.

In my defense, I only snoozed for a brief while (I think it was just a matter of hours minutes) before I was back at work.

And all of our hard work was worth it. The party was wonderful, the food was great, the cake was delicious and all the calories were pre-removed.



One of the most special parts of the evening for me happened after the four of us finished cleaning up the dishes; without any prearranged plan, we all just sort of wandered our collective way into the living room. For an hour or more, we sat and talked and laughed, basking in the birthday's afterglow, the memory of the fun guests we'd had, and the joy of having Nathan home again after having been gone ten days.

I know that birthdays are about candles and cake and the passing of years but they're also about a weary mom staying up till after 11:30 just because she can't seem to tear herself away from the people she loves the most. Birthdays are a good time to remember who we love and why we love them.

Unfortunately, our birthday afterglow just also happened to be the time I was hit the realization that in my last entry here, I misspelled tiramisu about a million times.

Sigh.

I apologize to all of you spelling experts out there. Not only can I not make the stinkin' stuff, I can't even SPELL it!

Oh well. My hubby loves me anyway.

And I'm thankful.

I'm thankful for him, for my family, for Snowy, for our dinner guests and mostly, I'm thankful for a day well spent.

Obeying the Eyeballs

See Steve.

See Steve stare.

See Steve stare at his sumptious birthday cake cookie. (With the smoke ascending from the single candle so recently removed.)

Can you see the celebratory satisfaction on the face that is Steve's?

What's that?

No? You can't?

Hmmmm . . .

You think maybe he was expecting a BIGGER cake? Maybe he was expecting an ACTUAL cake? Maybe he was expecting some EFFORT to be put into the BIGGER, ACTUAL cake? Possibly?

Wait! Don't go! I have an excuse! A really, really good excuse!

And here it is.

Ummm . . . . as soon as I think of one.

Okay, I've got it!

Steve LOVES tiramasu. In fact, he loves it so much that I actually tried to make it. Once.

I will never try it again. I ended up with mysterious little blobs of something or another floating in the pan. The blobs looked like accusatory eyeballs. They were speaking to me in accusatory eyeball language saying, "Do not ever try to make this dessert again. Or we will come and FIND you. We KNOW where you live!"

And so I have obeyed the eyeballs and have never even thought of attempting to make tiramusu again.

Never. I still have nightmares about the eyes.

But anyway, back to my story.

A couple months ago, I happened to see the menu for a restaurant in town that featured tiramasu! I was so excited! My plan was that on Steve's birthday, I was going to sashay on down to this particular eating establishment and purchase for Steve one perfectly made piece of tiramasu. (With NO accusatory floating eyeballs.)

However, when I called the restaurant to see if I could order a piece to go, the nice man on the phone said, "I'm sorry. We no longer carry that dessert."

My heart sank. My spirits plummeted. My face sagged. (Oh wait. My face was ALREADY saggy.)

I called around to a few other places but without much hope because we live in the land of sweet tea, fried chicken and coleslaw. When I asked the first guy if he carried tiramusu he said, "Huh?"
Now how many of you want to take a guess that if a fella has never even HEARD of tiramusu, he probably does NOT carry it?

So when Steve got home from Duke with Sarah on Wednesday, I explained my foiled plot to him. He said in grand husbandly tones, "Oh, that's fine. I'll just have a cookie with a candle on it for tonight."

And so that's what he had.

On his 52nd birthday.

On his ONLY 52nd birthday.

Sniff. Sigh. Cue the sad violins.

Happily, however, the tale doesn't end there!

For the past two days, I have been cooking/baking up a veritable whirlwind, including my famous deep dark choclate cake with pudding/whipped cream icing. After a sumptious feast tonight, Steve will be served his official birthday dessert and the forlorn little cookie will become a faded memory.

Plus, Nathan and a friend are driving home from Florida today so the two of them will be with us for the party, along with a really fun pastoral couple from the area.

So I'd better get back to my cooking, cleaning, baking and chocolate chip cookie-memory erasing.
Because we certainly don't want THIS to be the last memory of his 52nd birthday!

Oops! Almost Forgot

I had meant to post these two pictures earlier in honor of Steve's birthday. I really don't even know how old Steve was in this picture. Somewhere near college age, I think.

Don't you just love the hair and the pink shirt? I'm sure that "back in the day," he was really stylin'!

This second picture was taken a couple weeks ago. I think he just gets better looking the older he gets.



Although I do sort of miss the pink shirt. And the big collars. And the hair. . .

Fifty Two is Young!

Happy birthday to Steve who is fifty two years old today.

Which is really very, very young. In fact, the closer I get to fifty two, the younger it becomes.

You're invited to drop over to Sarah Smith's Spot to view some stories and pictures (from the archives) about Steve and Sarah in honor of his birthday.

Also, there's a very new picture of Sarah wearing a very new (and darling) t-shirt!

Books and Prayers

When Sarah and Steve got back from his parents' house Sunday night, they were carrying with them a treasure. Well, actually two treasures! And here's Sarah (our own personal treasure) showing off the two treasures she brought home.

These books are by Hans Christian Andersen which is probably not all that exciting in itself. However, what is exciting is that when Steve was a young boy, he and his parents were in Denmark and purchased these books in Andersen's home, which had been turned into a historical site.


Steve's parents gave the books to Sarah and she is so delighted to have them. Not that Sarah likes books, or anything.






In fact she HATES books.



She never, EVER reads them.


Yeah, right. She just did an inventory and she has over 120 books in her room alone! Hans Christian Andersen will have plenty of company.


Steve and Sarah also came home from Charlotte with a Steve Story I had never heard before. It seems that when Steve was a toddler, he would hide a butter knife when he was put to bed and then try to take his crib apart when no one was looking.

As much as that man loves to tinker with mechanical things, that doesn't surprise me one teeny little bit.

And on a more serious note, Colleen signed the guest book recently saying that her husband has been laid off work for six months. She asked if our family would pray for them.

That reminded me of another blog I read last week where readers were encouraged to put their prayer requests in the guest book and pray for each other. That is exactly what I would like to do here!

If you have something on your mind--job issues, family circumstances, health crises, financial concerns--I invite you to write down your request. I promise that I will pray for them all and I'd also like to encourage each of you to pray for the two requests above yours.

These are tough times for a whole bunch of people and the Bible encourages us to "bear each other's burdens." Isn't it exciting to have the privilege of doing that? So many of us have gotten to know each other through guest book entries left on Sarah's site through the years. Sharing prayer requests is an even better way to link hearts.

And it doesn't have to be in response to just this post; any time down the road, feel free to write down your concerns.

Is that a deal? Good!

Looking forward to hearing from you!