Feeding Many?

I typically feed 5.  Yep, we usually have supper around 6, unless there is a soccer game, soccer practice, dance practice or meeting at school.  Hm...what we usually have is cheeseburgers, tacos, spaghetti, chicken dish, crockpot dish or main salad dish. Yes, feeding many is what I do.  No, I suppose 5 is not that many, it's more like feeding a handful many times.  Yes...that is what it is.  When Matt's not in college, it's like feeding many and feeding many times.  You just never know who Matt's going to invite over.

The other day someone fed me.  I liked it.  As much as I absolutely love food, I absolutely love words of encouragement even more.  Yes, even more than Pizza Hut's Pan Pizza Supreme or chicken alfredo.  Someone gave me the gift of words.  As she began talking I felt myself leaning in.  I felt like the baby bird with wide open mouth receiving nourishment from the mommy bird.  I gulped in the nourishing words, mentally fixating on them so I could bring them to rememberance at will.  It was almost like saving the last square of chocolate or frosted brownie in a baggie for later.

Words...they are the best!  I knew I liked words when as a third or fourth grader I played school and created my own attendance list to call.  I have never forgotten one of the names on the list - Dee Ereatameme.  Impressed?  Maybe not.  But I remember wanting to play with the long e sound and create a name that did that.  Dee Ereatameme!  Yep, gotta love the long e sound.

Words...I also remember seeing a sign once while on vacation.  It said "Womphoppers."  Now remember, I was young.  Anyhow, I remember saying that word over and over again with my little sister, Jewel, as we thought of all the ways it could be pronounced.  We giggled so hard our stomachs hurt. And just when we thought we had exhausted the humor in that word, one of us would say it again and we'd both burst out laughing once more.

I should have known then that I had a fascination with words, their meanings and the way they sounded as they rolled off my tongue.

The other day I was reminded of that.  Only this time it wasn't the way they rolled off someone's tongue as much as the way they reached down deeply, flooding me with warmth, coziness and light in every part. 

"The lips of the righteous feed many" and that moment I was given a smorgasboard.  Thanks Vicky!



 

911

My husband says I shouldn't blog on this.  "It's all that's been on the news this week," he said. 

Yet, it just seems right.  Today is a day to remember. 

Where were you on 911? 

I was at home.  I had just driven Matt to school.  I came home and Bobby had the t.v. on.  For the first time I could ever remember I felt afraid living in the United States of America. 

How could that happen here?  The thought was incomprehensible, like reading Greek backwards with the hiccups while on a roller coaster.

I remember feeling gripped by fear for Matt.  He was the only one not home with us.  I remember wanting to get in my van and drive back to Pleasant Elementary to pick him up from Mr. Moore's 5th grade class. He should be home.

Logically, I knew Matt was safe.  He was not in New York City.  He was not in the Twin Towers.  He was in Norwalk.  He was in school.  He was safe.  But I wanted to see him, feel him, know he was safe.

All morning the t.v. was on.  Eventually Bobby went to work at the church.  I was on overload from all the information being repeated over and over with many speculations.  I clicked off the t.v. What else could I do on this day?  What would be soothing?  The library!  I packed up the girls.  Of course, the library!  It's always been one of my favorite places.

That would feel normal.  That would be right.  As we walked down the stairs into the children's room, a large t.v. stood blaring in the center.  Librarians stood, eyes glued to the screen. 

So much for normal.  The library wasn't the only place that wasn't normal.  The first time we went to Cedar Point, we couldn't get in without having my purse and diaper bag searched.  The next time I got on a plane I had to arrive an extra hour early and get clear little bottles with my toiletries in it.  I soon discovered a new system, on t.v. I'd hear what color the level of alert was. 

There was no normal.  It was the new normal...and it was about as comfortable as wearing the outfit your 80-year-old grandma bought you for your birthday. 

Ten years have gone...

The fear is gone.  The changes are no longer noticeable.  The sting of 911 is gone.  Yet annually...we remember.  It's a time to remember we're Americans.    A time to sing "Star Spangled Banner" outloud when everyone else isn't.  It's a time to say that even though much was lost, it wasn't forgotten.  They were not forgotten.  It's a time to say that even though America is not perfect, there's no other place we'd rather live.  We are Americans.  God has blessed us! So thank you servicemen and first responders!  We give thanks.  We remember! 

Fruit Flies

Michaela and I just discovered a new sport we like.  No, it's not soccer - that's an old sport.  No, it's not wrestling.  No, it's not jogging.  It's more in the line of  hunting.  Sort of-

It started when I let bananas get too old.  I'll make a banana cake tomorrow, I kept telling myself.  Tomorrow never came, but the fruit flies sure did.

So back to our sport.  I made a banana cake and banana nut muffins.  I took the disgusting black banana peels straight to the dumpster.  I then drove to K-Mart to look for help.

Rave - for flying insects!

I didn't even check the price.  No amount could have been too much.

I zipped into the driveway, anxious to tackle the fruit fly dilemna. 

I stormed into the kitchen armed with my Rave.  Spray!  Fall!  Smash with my finger...1!   Spray!  Fall!  Smash with my finger...2!  Spray!  Fall!  Smash with my finger 3!

It didn't take long for Michaela to meander in.  Spray!  Fall!  Smash with my finger...4!

"Hey, that looks like fun.  Let me try that!"

Michaela picked up the Rave can and scanned the kitchen, "There!"  She cried aiming the Rave over the sink.  Spray!  Fall!  Michaela kept spraying on top of the fruit fly which now looked as though he were tunneling up through the snow.

"Smash him" I cried.

"What?"  Michaela asked.

"Smash him with your finger."

Michaela looked at me questioningly.

"This'll do it, won't it?"

"Well yah, but you're gonna use half the bottle on one!  We got lots and only one can.  Now smash with your finger."

Michaela reached into the sink and squashed.  "That was kinda fun."  She scanned until she saw one fly up toward the ceiling.  "Spray" "Shoot, where'd it go?" she asked looking around on the floor.  "I don't think I hit it."  She continued to scan until she was once again successful. 

Fifteen minutes later we were at 27 and running out of fruit flies. 

"I'm gonna get ready for bed," Michaela told me, walking towards the bathroom.  "Mom, mom...in here!  Bring the spray!" she called running back into the kitchen.  Scooping up the spray she ran back to the bathroom.  Scanning above the sink, she spotted and sprayed.  A pool of white foam clung to the mirror.

"Smash it," I called. 

Michaela reached out and smashed it.  "Spray!"  "Fall!"  "Smash with her finger...29."
"This was pretty fun, mom," Michaela said while handing me the Rave.

"Yah, it can be our new sport!"  I said smiling.  "What other sport can you have such a success rate on the first try?" 

I went back out to the kitchen and put the Rave on the counter.  Too soon to put it away.  It needed to be handy just in case-  I yawned and grabbed my glass of ice tea, while heading into the livingroom.  Time to relax.  As I plopped into my recliner and pulled up the foot rest, I raised my tea for a refreshing swig...

floating on top were 3. 

The war wasn't over!