Pumpkins and Posers

I am a creator. I sew. I paint. I cut vinyl with my super-cool cricut and make cool snazzy things. I turn non-writers into authors (at least of essays).

Rarely do I have the misfortune of being bested by one of my creations. Maybe bested is not the right word. Attacked? Ambushed? Smothered and suffocated? I don't know. Anyway, here goes:

First, the pumpkins.

In the sewn category, there have been 2354 pumpkin shirts and outfits leave the Den of Stitches. That may be slightly exaggerated. But I'm sure at least fifty are ready to wear by little girls all over this area. Such a cute outfit too. You see why everybody would want one :)

Let me just say it has been a valiant effort to fulfill all these orders. I have bought every piece of orange and white fabric from Orange Beach to Birmingham. Who knew orange was a SPRING fabric and no more could be ordered!! Am I the only one who associates orange with fall???? Oh, well.  I am now to the point that I can offer to do shirts only...there just isn't enough fabric for pants. But that's good, right? That's what Robbie always asks me.

And then the tutus. Lord, at the tutus! I had to get Vicki and Grace to spend the night and help me! But these tutus were not for children...nope, no ballerinas in this bunch. These were all GROWN women who were dressing up for the run they sponsored. As one of the participants put it, "Nothing says I'm a serious runner quite  like a tutu." What fun! How cute!

Finally (and this is where I was held hostage by one of my own creations)--the poser. My niece Karissa is a budding photographer. She is not only learning to take sonographic (is that even a word?) pictures of a person's insides in school, but she also has her own photography business that is growing...and growing...and growing. But that's good, right?

So anyway, back in the summer she sent me a picture of a photography poser and asked if I could make one for less than the advertised $75. Ummm...yeah. So I searched the stores until I found a remnant of a vinyl/leather-like fabric (to be easily cleaned if wee ones have accidents) and put it aside. Then last weekend I decided to "clean out" some stuff that had been hanging around, stressing me with its not-done-ness.. I know, I know...not a word...

I should have had someone (a photgrapher, maybe?) taking pictures of this whole experience. First I laid the fabric/wild animal (it acted like one) on the floor. I taped a ribbon to a marker so that I could make a perfect circle, and I drew it off. Let me just say I was quite proud of myself. Cutting it out was not problem, and neither was the cutting of the band to separate the top and bottom. Karissa is going to fill this thing up with those little beads that go in bean bags, so it needed some expansion room and a zipper. Next, off to the sewing machine...and the relationship between me and the THING turned ugly.

Most things I sew are docile and yielding. They squish and gather and can be easily compacted. But not the poser. Oh, no. Here I was, at the machine, with the poser fighing me, trying to slip away, and, when that didn't work, attacking me!! I kid you not, the poser tried to kill me!  I was hunkered over the machine , sewing away, fighting to keep the thing under the machine and sew in a circle, when the part I was not sewing curled up and came over my head!

I can just imagine the headline: Female Seamstress Smothered by  a Poser

It would make for interesting reading, don't you think?

Anyway, I got it done--even got a zipper in the band (no small feat, let me tell you). And I sent it on its happy way to the new owner. Loving feedback as I do, I waited to hear from her...and waited...and waited. Fearing that the thing might have tried to take her out too, I sent a message asking if it worked. Her response: "It's still in the truck."

Hope it doesn't try to attack her when she opens the door...

Pioneer Woman of the South...NOT!

I am directionally challenged.

Truly this statement is a huge step...I'm bowing to my flaw. It's a pretty serious one, in fact. I have always been amazed at how other people (men, usually) can just sort of pick a road or a turn, guessing about where it comes out, and they always remember the way back out. Imagine all those pioneers of old just hooking up the horse and wagon and leaving...no maps.Amazing!

That, alas, is not me.

(As a side note, I should mention that this deficit in the gene pool has been passed on to Lauren. We cannot go anywhere without making at least one -usually several more- "U-ies." )

So you can imagine my elation when, not so many years ago, I gained through the internet the ability to print out a map with step-by-step directions to anywhere. WONDERFUL!! But what if there was a detour? Road work? A traffic accident? Heaven forbid.

Then along came gps systems for the car. Hallelujah!! A device that TALKS to the driver, recalculates if a turn is missed or blocked...could life get any better?

Maybe. Just maybe.

Saturday my uncle was taken by helicopter to the hospital in Dothan and I took Mama to be there for the surgery. We are a close-knit family and like to be together in times of trouble. There was no question that we would go. I looked up the address on the internet and printed it out. Then I got Lauren's gps (which she rarely uses until she has already had to make one u-turn) and programmed it. I was double armed. Finally, I consulted with Robbie about the way to go. He said, "Don't you remember when we used to go to Ashford?" Ummm - yeah. From LUVERNE. Through TROY. Oh well. Off we went.

At first, everything was fine. The directions were easy to follow (written and spoken), and Mama had been part of the way before and remembered it. AND THEN...Miss GPS said (in a very sultry voice), "In one-half mile, take the exit left." So I did. And then she said (still sultry), "Please make a U turn." What??? Mama and I just looked at each other! I didn't U turn, but she (Isn't kind of weird to refer to her as if she is a bitty bitty person LIVING inside the screen. Think she gets a kick out of giving people heart attacks?) got me turned around and to the hospital. I felt so accomplished.

After surgery was done and everyone began to leave, I once again depended on another source. Casey knew some of the way because of going down to see Teri. But after a while, she called and said her Verizon gps on her phone was "going stupid." So I turned mine on (I had just hit Take Me Home) and got in front. And drove. And drove. And drove. We saw NOTHING we remembered. Not a single familiar site. At one point, on a road with no turns, the demon from the screen said, "Make a left turn now." Where? Into the pasture? So I stayed straight, and eventually we came out in Elba and Brantley. Keep in mind that we did not even come CLOSE to those towns on the way down.

So I don't know. Maybe I'm not as directionally challenged as I think. Maybe it's a conspiracy between Google Maps and the GPS industry. Maybe I'm just supposed to stay home. Maybe there's a lesson I'm supposed to learn. Something like...hmm...IT'S NOT ABOUT HOW YOU GET THERE, BUT THAT YOU DO--EVENTUALLY.

Love, Loss, and Hope

For ten years, September 11 has been memoralized as a day for heroes. Men and women who rushed in to save people from burning, collapsing buildings -- those who drove planes straight into the ground to save our country -- people who called home for the last time on that fateful day -- these are the people we remember on September 11.

This year, the world lost another hero on September 11. Most people in the world will never hear anything about him, but those who knew him know he made an enormous impact on the lives of those around him.

Four years ago, Kenny learned he had cancer. From the beginning, it was said to be a cancer that was "easily treatable." Wrong! The devil played a mean game, and the doctors at UAB were constantly perplexed at how and where and when the cancer kept coming back. There were times that we all wanted to scream and cry and ask "Why?" But not Kenny. He kept his faith. He encouraged others. He worked to raise money for a relative who had cancer even when he was so low himself. He fought. Hard. And on September 11, 2011, he won.

Some people would say he lost that battle, but they would be wrong. He did not give in. He did not give up. He was not depressed. He did not, as Job's wife encouraged her husband to do, "curse God and die." Kenny's death was not unexpected -- we were not in denial -- but it was unexpectedly quick. Even in that, he won. Quietly, in his sleep, he passed gently from this life to the next. And I'm pretty sure as he stepped over, he looked back at the devil and said, "Thought you had me didn't you?" No, Kenny did not lose his battle. He is victorious, pain free, cancer free, in the prime of his life, without swelling or scans or needles or tubes.

And so now we are faced with finding the new normal. Life will certainly be different for all of us, especially for Pam and his girls. But we will all find strength in the way Kenny lived his life and the lessons we have learned from other losses. Over the past two and a half years, I have heard many well-meaning people try to make me feel better about losing Robert. Most of their little remarks don't really matter, because he is still gone for me. One remark stuck in my mind and has only recently begun to truly make sense. I shared this with Kelly at Kenny's visitation, and I pray that it will become a planted seed that grows and develops deep roots. This is the way I think of Robert: He is in my future now. For the present, he is absent, but he is not gone. Instead, he waits for me, and I certainly wouldn't want him to be disappointed by not showing up!

If you haven't read Heaven Is for Real, I can't tell you how good it is. I have always had faith, always known what happened to the soul of one who loved God, always been assured of eternity in heaven. But I don't deny that I have always wondered just how that would go--how it would happen. Would you just have to find your own way around, hoping to see someone who looked slightly familiar? Would Moses be the same in importance as Pigo? That didn't seem right. And then I read this little book about a four-year-old boy who becomes incredibly sick and later tells of his experience while his body was in the operating room. I say his body because his soul was not there. And so this is what I think happened at 4:43 on September 11, 2011: I believe Kenny's soul stepped into the next life as easily as stepping across a threshold; I believe that the first person he saw was Jesus and that Kenny knew Him immediately; I believe that Robert and Pigo and Granny and Mamaw and Grandaddy Hartin and Granny Hartin and all the others who were already there came to find him; I believe that every pain, weakness, and defect was gone; I believe that true to his personality he is laughing, telling stories, and saying to Jesus "You something else, ain't ya?";I believe that he is waiting--happily waiting-- for those who will come after him; I believe that when we go, he will be one of the ones who meet us at the feet of Jesus and offer to show us around; I believe he is in our future now.

In the last weeks of his life, Kenny and all of us claimed the verse Jeremiah 32:17, proclaiming that "nothing is too hard" for God. We will continue to claim this verse, because the hard part on earth is learning the new normal. It sure does make our loss easier to bear, though, to know that our loved ones are safely with God and with each other.

                                                 Kenny and Carsyn--Beautiful Baldies

                                                                  Kenny and Pam
                                                       Married September 19, 1981

A Birthday Card and a Life Lesson

I think it's a little ironic that Pam and I both celebrated our birthdays while she and Kenny were in Birmingham at the hospital. For that matter, Robbie's birthday was during that time also. Heck, if they had gone a couple of days earlier, Kenny could have had his birthday there too!

Anyway, I stayed with them several times during their five-week stay, and during one of those times Pam gave me my birthday card. Amazingly, I had looked at it in the bookstore and Pam (Sneaky Pete, I should call her) had already seen it and bought it for me! Great minds think alike, I guess!

I cannot tell you how many times I have gone back to that card and read it. There are so many life lessons to be learned from it. Life is truly about handling the things we don't expect. Everybody has youthful dreams of marrying your soulmate and living happily ever after with a house full of kids and a yard full of cars and a pool and bicycles in the driveway. No one plans in those youthful dreams what to do if a child dies or the soulmate gets sick. I guess it really is true that the situation you are in doesn't define you. It's how you handle that situation that says what you are.

Because I love it, I'm including the message from my card. I hope it touches some of you as it has touched me.

As we grow older it's important to remember that life is all about how you handle plan B.

            Plan B
Plan A is always my first choice.
You know, the one where
Everything works out to be
Happily ever after.

But more often than not,
I find myself dealing with
The upside-down,
Inside-out version
Where nothing goes as it should.

It's at this point that the real test
Of my character comes in...
Do I sink or do I swim?
Do I wallow in self-pity
And play victim
Or simply shift gears
And make the best of the situation?
The choice is mine. After all...
LIFE IS ALL ABOUT
HOW YOU HANDLE PLAN B.
                                  Suzy Toronto

Blessed are the flexible...
for they shall not be bent out of shape.

Now, really, isn't that just the neatest lesson? If you haven't already encountered Plan B, you will. Hope this helps!

Twenty-three Days

That's how long Kenny and Pam have been in Birmingham at UAB Hospital. That's almost how long it's been since I've blogged. Between getting and giving updates from the hospital, going up there, teaching online, and babysitting, the days are gone before I can turn around. It's been a long  twenty-three days...

Much longer for Pam and Kenny though.  Twenty- three  days since they slept in their bed, ate real food, used their own tub. Twenty-three days since they sat in their recliners, walked around the block,cooked supper. Twenty-three days of sleeping at a 30 degree incline or curled in a fetal position in a hard chair. Twenty-three nights of x-rays at 1:30 A.M. and vitals taken every two hours.  Twenty-three days and nights of different nurses, patient care techs, members of the surgical team. Twenty-three days of playing musical rooms.

I pray for rest where there has been none, peace where there has been anxiety, gentle nurses, and thorough doctors. I pray for help with pain management and a balm for frazzled nerves. I pray for strength for all the family and for Kenny's body. I pray for a different kind of strength for Pam.

Twenty-three days is a long time, but we know that God has everything under control and is working on his own timetable. We will be patient. We will not be anxious. Nothing is too big for God. Jeremiah 32:17

I Love You This Big...

When my kids were little, they used to ask all the time one of two questions: Who do you love more? and How much do you love me?

I answered the first question the same by giving each one a special thing I especially loved that child for. I loved the way Robert went to bed, the way Lauren wanted to "cuddlebug" after her bath, and the way Josh was such a sweet personality who didn't argue or fight.

They've grown up now, and more have come into the family. They don't ask anymore how much I love them. I guess that's one of the things that fades as they grow. I'm thinking they are moving into that phase of having to answer those questions for their own kids!

 Last night I was doing some things around the house, trying to find things, putting things in order, and just thinking. So I decided to put my thoughts down about my love for them~the kids, their loves, and their kids. Some are current and some are from times gone past. There are stories behind some of these that the kids will get even if other readers don't. And they're the ones that matter :)

                                                         I Love You This Big

How big do I love you?

I love you big enough to give you all my house chargers for my phone.

I love you big enough that Santa still comes to see you, even though my oldest is 28.

I love you big enough to board Christmas presents you forgot to take home.

I love you big enough to add another job description to my titles...gymnastics coach.

I love you big enough to make our yard look like a home daycare.

I love you big enough to have a baby bed in a house of grown-ups.

I love you big enough to drive to Florida for a grown-up play date.

I love you big enough to shop regularly in the baby/toddler section.

I love you big enough to quit a really good job because you missed me :)

I love you big enough to travel for one million miles to ballgames and see you play or cheer.

I love you big enough to teach for almost nothing so that we could be together at a great school.

I love you big enough to make baby-friendly foods a part of grocery buying.

I love you big enough to listen all year for ideas for Santa to bring, even if you might forget what you say.

I love you big enough to pray for you as you travel, as you work, and as you sleep.

I love you big enough to share you with the love of your life.

I love you big enough to spend the grocery money on cheer shoes or football cleats or basketball shoes.

I love you big enough to drive a vehicle big enough that all the babies can ride with us.

I love you big enough to give up Saturdays to wash your clothes for your next week of work.

I love you big enough play tee ball in the yard even though the temperature is 117 in the shade.

I love you big enough to come to college and take you clothes shopping because you got cold.

I love you big enough to get your baby to sleep and then put her in the bed with you.

I love you big enough to help with school papers/resumes/job applications/emails/etc.

I love you big enough to want you to have more and better than we have.

I love you big enough to help you get more and better than we have.

I love you big enough to wish I could take your place in hard situations.

I love you big enough  to buy chewable Tylenol to keep on my desk at school.

I love you big enough to go on grasshopper hunts and nature walks.

I love you big enough to be jumped on and dragged under in the pool.

I love you big enough to go on 1000 golf cart rides a day.

I love you big enough to drop the in-law at the end of son and daughter.

I love you big enough to dip your chicken and french fries in ketchup (I shiver just thinking of it!).

I love you big enough to make sure we have A1 even if we don't eat it.

I love you big enough support your attempts to become invisible to Bambi and his family.

I love you big enough to buy extra coffee/ketchup/ranch/rice/chicken so we can help if you run out.

I love you BIG BIG BIG...bigger than I know how to say.

One Item Checked Off the Bucket List!!!

We have new floors!!! Yeah!!! Happy dance happening now! Oh, wait... maybe not now. Too sore for that.
Maybe tomorrow...

So anyway, if you've read my blog before, you know that new flooring has been an important issue. Actually, it was an issue that we had stopped talking about because it never got done. NEVER.

And then, a few days ago, a sale at Home Depot! Yeah we went! Yes we got flooring! And it's down!!!

I'm so excited. Even though I hurt all over. My hair even hurts.

This epic event did not happen easily, let me tell you. In addition to the LOOOOOOOOOOONG wait for it to happen, some meanies tried to get in the way of our adventure of DIY flooring. There's one I just HAVE to tell you about.

Ok, so Sunday we went to church, ate after church, and went to Jonathan's birthday party. We left the party to hurry to Montgomery and buy the laminate flooring. We got up Monday, I went to gymnastics, and Robbie started preparing everything. Monday night we went to Marvin's.

This is where the meanies come in.

FYI: If you put down laminate flooring, you are supposed to put a foam underlayment on the existing floor. We didn't have enough. Hence the trip to Marvin's.

So we go into Marvin's. Flooring section found--check. Underlayment found--check. Price on underlayment choices--no check.

At Robbie's request, I went to the counter at the front to ask if she could help or call someone to come give some assistance.

And THIS is the answer I got:
"I can call someone, but they are all REALLY REALLY busy. It'll probably be a long time before they come."

Did I forget to mention here that ours was the only car in the parking lot and they were only open 35 more minutes?

After I picked my jaw up from the floor, I asked if SHE could help me.

And THIS is what I got:
"I can help if you bring it HERE, but I can't leave my post."

Ok.Fine. So off I go to get the rolls of underlayment so she can give me prices. On my way, a very nice man who did not appear to be busy at all (in fact, he sort of looked like he was wandering around) asked if he could help me. He did. I took three rolls to the counter.

**Just remember that the prices were not posted...got it? You can see what's coming, right?

So Miss I Cannot Leave My Post does the thing I asked for. SHE CALLS FOR HELP!!!! I kid you not. Because of course she could not leave her "post" to find the prices.

Here comes her help (same kind man who wandered aimlessly into helping me). Robbie and I had made ourselves comfortable at the patio tables for sale.

Words cannot describe the look on her face when she was told that all the information--prices, length, everything we wanted to know--was highlighted in a notebook chained to the counter AT HER POST!! She never had to leave or call in the first place!!

Thank goodness the help we got from Daddy and Mr. Greg was much, much better! One thing checked off my bucket list...now to choose another item. Hmmm...