Dirt - Layers of dirty film on windows and screens provide a helpful filter against harmful and aging rays from the sun. Call it an SPF factor of 15 and leave it alone.
Cobwebs - Artfully draped over lampshades reduce the glare from the bulb, thereby creating a romantic atmosphere. If someone points out that the light fixtures need dusting, simply look confused and exclaim "What? And spoil the mood?" (Or just throw glitter on them and call them holiday decorations.)
Pet Hair - Explain the mound of pet hair brushed up against the doorways by claiming you are collecting it there to use for stuffing hand-sewn play animals for underprivileged children. (Also keeps out cold drafts in winter.)
Guests - If unexpected company is coming, pile everything unsightly into one room and close the door. As you show your guests through your tidy home, rattle the door knob vigorously, fake a growl and say, "I'd love you to see our den, but Fluffy hates to be disturbed and the shots are SO expensive."
Dusting - If dusting is REALLY out of control, simply place a showy urn on the coffee table and insist that "This is where Grandma wanted us to scatter her ashes."
General Cleaning - Mix one-quarter cup pine-scented household cleaner with four cups of water in a spray bottle. Mist the air lightly. Leave dampened rags in conspicuous locations. Develop an exhausted look, throw yourself on the couch and sigh, "I clean and I clean and I still don't get anywhere."
As a last resort, light the oven, throw a teaspoon of cinnamon in a pie pan, turn off oven and explain that you have been baking cookies for a bake sale for a favorite charity and haven't had time to clean.... Works every time.
Another favorite, I think from Erma Bombeck, always keep several get well cards on the mantle so if unexpected guests arrive, you can say you've been sick and unable to clean.
I have to add my own personal cleaning tip. When guests arrive unexpectedly, and the dishes aren't done, stack them up in the oven, shut the door, and wipe down the cabinets!!!!
Sometimes we can ignore what God is saying to us. Other times the message is so obvious that there is no use in denying it.
There are three fathers in my life. I respect them all more than words can express.
Second, my father-in-law, Stan. My husband's love and genuine affection for his dad, are rarely found in grown men.
The father that means the most to me though, is this one. The one that is raising my children. The one who comes home every night and isn't afraid or unable to hug and kiss his kids. The father who prays with my children. The father who takes the time to explain to our twelve year old the reason behind his decisions and why they are teaching her things she will need to know about life when she's grown, and working, and living on her own. The father who admires his son, and wishes he could be just like him, and tries to find the balance between spurring his son on and pulling him back. The father who saves the silly voicemail messages sent by his baby girl, and plays them over and over again, because he thinks she is so wonderful. This man shows both dependability and commitment, integrity, and endurance. Strength and courage in the face of adversity, patience, kindness and mercy. His legacy will be lived out in the lives of his children and I will forever be grateful to my heavenly Father for putting this father in my life.
I was driving down the road recently when my oldest child told me about a conversation she had been involved in with two friends. The girls were talking about church and, being near-teenagers, the topic became what they wear to church. The two friends shared what they like to wear, and when it was my daughter's turn, she told them her basketball sweats were her favorite church outfit. The two friends shared a knowing look, and then one of them asked my daughter "Do you go to one of those feel good churches?"
My son is someone I often think is not listening. He tends to live in his own world and cares more about the next episode of Star Wars the Clone Wars, than what is going on in the room. I'm wrong. The truth is, he does know what is going on, and probably better than most of us. Because he cuts out the bullsh*! and just says exactly what he thinks and feels. While I was trying to come up with an explanation that both defined the term "feel good church" and, with political correctness, explained why some people feel this is a bad thing, and what the correct term for our church is and why we feel that way..........my son just told the truth. Yeah, it does feel good, and he's not ashamed of it, nor does he care what the term really meant or what anyone else thinks about it or why. Hmmmm. What if I did that?
This morning I woke up (actually that is a lie, in order to wake up, one must first sleep, and I didn't do either). So, this morning I gave up, and got out of bed around 5:00. After seeing hubby off, I put on a pot of coffee, and looked out the back door, discovering that the dogs (see unpleasantly large animals pictured on left) were gone. Chewy (the one I'm not supposed to own on the top left) was the obvious culprit. I say this with complete confidence, because Cleo (the one that's supposed to be clean and indoors on the bottom left) sneaks out like a teenage girl. She goes out a hole under the back fence, that she assumes we don't know about. If she thinks we might be looking outside she won't acknowledge the hole exists.....she won't even acknowledge the fence exists! She's good. Chewy on the other hand sneaks out like a teenage boy. He wedges his nose into the largest, most obvious gate in the yard, pries it open, knocking over cinder blocks, and leaves it wide open, so that he can saunter back in when he feels like it.
They were gone. And I didn't want to go looking. A few minutes later a loud banging noise compels me to return to the back door, this time I discover that two robins have flown into my french doors, and committed suicide.....at the same time. (I don't know if this was a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing, or if they were just stupid.) Problem is, they did a lousy job of killing themselves and so flailed around, bleeding on the back deck for several minutes. At this point I decided that coffee would help, so I poured some, and thought about doing something productive....but before I could even sip the coffee, the dogs came wandering back into the backyard and Chewy (remember the one I'm not supposed to own) was soaking wet. Picturing the carnage that would ensue if the dogs got to the now (hopefully) dead birds, I panicked and ran to grab shoes and shovel, and threw the bird (that's right one bird, but I'm choosing not to think about that) over the fence. As I went to grab the hose to clean the blood off the deck, Chewy (still not supposed to own him) brushes up next to me, and I realize that he is soaking wet because even a dog knows he should bathe after being sprayed by a skunk.
Yes, I have been very sick. No! Its not the swine flu! Every well wisher that has called me over the last few days has eventually gotten around to asking...... 'well..... is anyone else from your trip sick?', or, 'when did you get back from Mexico again?', or, my favorite, the more direct approach, 'do you think you have swine flu?' The truth is no, I don't have swine flu....I think.
I've never liked kaleidoscopes. They hurt my eyes. The chaos makes me uncomfortable. Looking at them makes me feel physically tired.
