Looking for Book Recommendations

I love to read (have I mentioned that I am a Janeite already? ), and I love to share my faves.  I’d like to expand my list of faves, so please share your favorite reads - the books that help you balance the humor in this crazy life - the books that leave you inspired, feeling better about life and your place in it.

My top recomendation?  The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.  It is my all time favorite book and I have given out so many copies to friends over the years.  If you haven’t read - YOU MUST!!!  It is about a Dutch “elderly” spinster, living with her older sister and father, above their clock shop during World War II.  They participate in the resistance movement by hiding Jews in their home… well, I won’t share more or else I’d ruin the story for you.  It is an easy read and chock full of inspiration, charity, values, and heart.  I find something extraordinary in this book every time I read it.  The last time I read it it was with the perspective of a parent of a child with disabilities - and it helped my perspective develop in a better direction.

Please, share your faves with me in the comments - I’d love to find some new favorites!  Thank you, and peace to you all!

What’s In A Name?

A few years ago my youngest was learning his letters.  One of his teachers taught him that the Xs represented a kiss.  When he came home and told me about this, I taught him that the Os stood for hugs.  He was tickled with this information and made sure that his Daddy learned this vital information as well.

Months later he learned to write his name.  He came home that day and announced that he had a hug AND a kiss in his name.  He held up a school paper to show me just what he meant.  He showed me the X and kissed it.  He pointed out the O and then hugged the paper.  He was so proud.  “I am the only one with both a hug and a kiss in my name!!!” he crowed.

On this Mother’s Day, my youngest crawled into bed with me and handed me a card.  Inside he had signed his name and drew several Xs and Os beneath.  He had me kiss each X and hug each O, including those in his name, then he gave me a hug and kiss for each as well.  My heart swelled.

My sweet baby, my darling son.  True to his name, he is full of Xs and Os… and blessings every day.

Ball Games, Peanuts, And Creative Packaging

We went to a Braves Game this last weekend.  I am not a huge baseball fan, but I can certainly appreciate spending a pleasant day in the stands, watching our team play a good game, chatting with friends, and enjoying the beautiful weather.  Oh yeah… and the food!  It just isn’t the same without the hot dogs and peanuts.  It is a wonderful American tradition.

Whenever I go to the ballpark and see those peanut shells I am reminded of a cute story from years ago.  One of my best friends has a boy the same age as my oldest.  We’d taken both families to see the Braves play.  The boys brought their gloves in the hopes of catching a fly ball.  We parents brought in a large bag of peanuts to share.  The boys practically dove into the bag, selecting their peanuts, then setting about the business of cracking them open (without spilling the nuts inside) and popping them into their mouths.  After the initial surge of nut popping activity, my friend’s son seemed to slow down a bit, pondering his peanuts as he twisted them open.  Then, after opening one and eating the nuts inside, he held the shell up for closer inspection.  He turned it around and around, then turned to his Mom.

“How do they do that?” he asked.

“How do they do what, Butterbean?” she replied.

“How do they make the little waffles and get them around the peanuts?” he said.

That makes me chuckle to this day.  Peace to you all!

A Dose Of Friendship

I’ve been sick the last few months.  Not one continuous illness, but a series of no less than seven colds since the first week of January, with some chest pains (lungs?  heart?  Dr.s are still running tests to figure this out) in between.  This has worn me out and obviously my immune system has been compromised in some way in order for this to have happened.  I’ve been so sick so often that my boss has taken to greeting me with a fond “Hi Sicko!” in the mornings when she sees me on-line.

This last cold was the worst.  I won’t go into the details, but last Monday morning I felt so horrible that I thought about asking my husband to write down the hymns I’d like sung at my funeral (which would, by the way, include “Just As I Am”, in case any of my family members read this).  My husband had me wrapped up papoose fashion in an electric blanket because I couldn’t stop shivering.  I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to watch much TV, and I couldn’t keep my mind clear enough to follow the plot in anything - even on The Price Is Right.  And yes, for those of you asking, you only realize there is a plot to The Price Is Right game show when you realize that you aren’t able to follow it any more.  It doesn’t hit you until later just how scary that is :).  And if this doesn’t paint a pathetic picture already, let me add one more detail that is the real “tell”…  My husband put in my DVD of Pride and Prejudice (the 1995 BBC version with Colin Firth, of course) in the hopes that this would entertain me… and I had no interest in anything having to do with Mr. Darcy.  I obviously had good reason to contemplate the musical score for my funeral.

That was earlier this week.  Now I am on the mend and today I actually sat at my desk and worked.  Hooray!  And what got me from funeral planning to planning out performance management strategies at work?  Three things.  First came the Z-pak antibiotic series - 5 days of pills that my Dr. prescribed for me Monday morning.  After three days however, I hadn’t improved much.   Unbeknownst to me stronger medicine was on its way.

The second thing came Wednesday when a friend of mine from church sent me an email saying that she missed me and wanting to know how I was.  None of my friends are the type to call every day and chat - most don’t even live in this state and we are all waaaaay too busy for casual daily contact.  Most of my friends weren’t even aware that I’ve been ill.  This one however is from my church and she knew I’ve missed some services and haven’t been singing in choir lately.  I wasn’t in services this last Sunday nor was I at a small group meeting Sunday night.  Even though neither my husband or I had reached out to tell anyone I was sick, this dear friend reached out to me.  Seems small, but it was a therapeutic touch that hit the spot. 

Then came the closer.  A woman in our neighborhood whose son is on the same little league team as my older son, who knew I’d missed more than half of the games this season (I’d missed again that Monday evening - first game of the end-of-season tournament), sent over a plate of home made cookies around dinner time Wednesday night.  Wow.  This completely unexpected gesture of kindness was a sweet balm that warmed my heart.

I hadn’t asked for it in any way.  Yet people missed me.  They cared.  God had opened his medicine cabinet and sent me some home remedy.

My cold made the turn that night.  The next morning I felt better and continued to improve throughout the day.  Today I feel even stronger.  I know the antibiotic was part of it… but the powerfully strong dose of friendship paired with the shot of kind sympathy was the best medicine indeed.

Thank you!

Partyin’ in the ‘Burbs

I found this on youtube and had to share! Some wacky folks in the suburbs of Atlanta put this together and it made me laugh and laugh. If you are a suburbanite (or just like to laugh at ‘em) then you’ll want to watch this. Enjoy!
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxj5EEksI1I&feature=related%20<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxj5EEksI1I&feature=related>%20

Note: for those who don’t have the priviledge of living in the 19 counties that make up metro-Atlanta, “285″ refers to the highway that circles the city and effectively divides in-town from the suburbs.  It is also known as the “perimeter”.

Autism or Austentism?

Our family lives with obsession.  We have a child with Autism–enough said, right?  He is obsessed with animals and tiny tiny things… like tiny beads, tiny pieces of confetti, or, well, tiny animals. 

We all have our obsessions, I have found.  Each of us, in our turn, has something that “turns us on” to the point where we can, if we let it, perseverate and obsess and just plain wallow in our chosen joy.

My husband, for instance, like most Southern men, is obsessed with Football.  My older son is obsessed with sports and SportsCenter on ESPN.  My younger son, as I mentioned, finds his joy in animals and tiny things.

And me?  Sigh…  I am not above obsession.  I have to admit that I too am obsessed.

I am obsessed with Jane Autsen. 

Persuasion, Mansfield Park, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Emma, and Northanger Abby… Jane is my escape.  Through her writings she allows me to relive the decisions made in my early twenties.  She allows me to explore feelings and rationalizations and moral questions… the senses and sensibilities, I guess.  I recently took joy in reading and re-reading Pride and Prejudice to the point where I have been pondering my own parallels to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth and even, I must add, to Mrs. Bennet.  I even added a “Which Jane Austen Character Are You” quiz on my facebook page.  This is scary. 

I believe the official diagnosis is that I am a “Janeite”.  But that seems such a plain-sounding diagnosis.  I am starting to think of it as “Austentism”.

Just how far does this go?  Well, let’s see.  I have been faithfully following the recent US Masterpiece Theater Jane Austen Revival on PBS.  I have watched the interviews with the producer and actors on PBS.org.  I took the “which one is your man?” quiz, also on PBS.org (not telling which one I prefer :)).  I have watched just about all of the movies ever made based upon her works (my favorite?  The 1995 BBC version of Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle, of course, but the Bridget Jones’ Diary series is also a favorite as a “loose translation”).  I just rented “Becoming Jane” and loved the theory it presented about how Miss Jane Austen may have gained the life experience reflected in her works (such a fresh yet plausible story).  I have her books and books by authors who wrote sequels and books that tell the stories from an others’ (usually the man’s) point of view.  I have the soundtrack to the 1995 BBC version of Pride and Prejudice on my iPod.  I’ve read through (and reference) www.Pemberly.com  quite often (see link in the sidebar).  I’ve looked up patterns for the dresses and accessories that were worn and referenced in her books.  I even have a book titled “Jane Austen’s Book on Manners” and have thought about getting a cookbook that is now out with recipes for things that are mentioned in her books.   Like a drug addiction, I crave them and want more. 

Forget scary - now that I am writing this all down I realize that my addiction is… REALLY scary!

If my powers of concentration were better, I’d be able to ignore the dishes (ok, I am already pretty good at ignoring the dishes), and the kids’ homework, and the latest report demand from my boss, and just submerge myself in my passion.  Perhaps that only comes in the most advanced stages of obsession… or in Autism…

Did this come on after prolonged use of Teflon coated pans heated above 450 degrees?  Vaccinations?  Mercury poisoning?  A genetic predisposition?

Can I be cured through diet?  Chelation?  ABA?  Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy?  Vitamins? 

I hope not.  I’m having too much fun!  

Church Musings

My younger son is so verbal.

Sometimes we wonder why we ever taught him to speak (and then - why he speaks so LOUDLY). 

During the sermon while in church he pipes up with important questions like - “Mommy, why do your boobs hang out your chest?” and “Why is Pastor so old?”

As we walk up for communion/blessings he’ll ask ”Why do you get snacks and I don’t?” and, with wide eyes, referring to the communion wine, “Is that real BLOOD in there?”

Our favorite was when, during the sermon he called up to the pastor… “Are you done talking yet?”

Dingos in Australia… or are they?

This morning we were in the middle of our normal “school morning” routine (ok, so it was also picture day at school, so we were trying to take extra care in keeping the kids clean and tidy as they ate breakfast, so it was the normal routine sans the spills and crumbs), when the subject of Dingos came up in conversation.  (note: such strange topics of conversation are part of the routine in our house)

Dingos, in case you didn’t know, are I think a species of wild dog that lives in Australia.  At least, every time I’ve ever seen or heard anything about Dingos it talks about their living in Australia.  So anyway, my older son started talking about a story he’d seen on television where a 9 year old boy and a 7 year old boy (my boys are 9 and 7, which is why I think he paid particular attention to this story) were attacked by Dingos.  He went on to describe the attack, explaining that the 9 year old was killed and the 7 year old escaped and ran home.  He was a bit in awe that the older of the brothers was the one killed.  I think he was a bit worried that he and his brother might be attacked at the bus stop.

In an effort to distract him I asked “and where was this?” thinking he would say Australia and I could point out that we live half a world away and he didn’t have to worry about Dingos roaming our suburban neighborhood.

“Ummmm… let’s look it up on the internet!” and he left the breakfast table to go fire up the computer.

“Wait a minute, bud.  Finish your breakfast.  The bus will be here soon.  We’re not looking it up right now,” I said.  I thought this would  be the end of it, but no…

“It was Rhode Island,” he said between bites of melon.

“What?”

“The Dingos live in Rhode Island,” he exclaimed.  “Dingos live in Rhode Island and that is where the boy died.”

How on earth did he come up with this?  “I think Dingos only live in Australia, bud.”  At least I really hope Dingos don’t live in Rhode Island.

“Well, they may live in Australia too, but I know they live in Rhode Island,” he said.

“Yep, they live in Australia and Rhode Island just like my brother said!” proclaimed my younger son, the family animal expert in residence.

“And I hope they don’t come south for the winter like the Canadians,” finished my older son.

Enough said.

NOTE- For our dear readers…This was not a slam against Canadians.  Our family does not equate Canadians with child-eating dingos…  We like Canadians, especially the Mounties - with whom my younger son has a slight fascination.  Peace to all out there!

Life’s Sountrack

Have you ever wondered what life would be like if we had our own soundtrack, just like the characters in the movies or TV? 

Just think what danger we could avoid if we could only hear that telltale music playing just before we open the door to see our spouse doing the diddly with our best friend–with the music, as soon as we heard it we could pause, compose ourselves, make sure our hair is fabulous (so we can deliver our line in a self-assured manner) and think of a snappy comment before opening the door (”You can have him and his Viagra!”).  Without the music you are in danger of blindly opening the door and letting out a most undignified and uncool “AAACK!” (not that I’ve ever found myself in this situation, but it is one where I would definitely want the music to warn me :)).

Even better, how much more enjoyable that trip to the grocery store would be if we could hear happy, zippy music in the background to make our steps lighter and the task less dreary (the faint muzak could never accomplish this).

How about those times when you are feeling downtrodden or overburdened with life’s troubles?  Wouldn’t it be great to hear “I Will Survive”?  For me it would mean an instant mood lift as the music bolstered my resolve to do just that - survive whatever it is and show the world that I am truly fabulous!

How about at work?  “The Typewriter Song” (by Leroy Anderson) would be a good one.  (Maybe “I Will Survive” would be more appropriate!)

Think about it–What would be in your soundtrack?  Would it compliment or supplement your life and how you’re living it?  It could be good stuff