Kids and Lizards

If you look back a few years among all the blogs I’ve posted, I’m sure you’ll find several about my Wednesday night classes back in New Hampshire. Those kids and teaching are two things I have missed the most about New Hampshire. So, I’ve been delighted to have Wednesday nights and kids back in my life. It’s a nice oasis for the middle of my weeks.

I have four kids in this class, all about 8 or 9 years old and in the 4^th grade (although the class is technically for 3^rd to 5^th graders). Two boys and two girls. Makes life simple. Except when the girls decide to do what you expect the boys to do. Namely, bringing a lizard to class.

In Texas, there are all kinds of little gecko/salamander things that get into buildings, I guess to try to sell you insurance. On Wednesday, Ashley brought one into class wrapped in a tissue. (Which might not be too surprising for those of you who live in New Hampshire and know another Ashley I have very fond memories of…)

“Show the boys, Ashley,” Kate ordered. “Guess what she’s got?”

“What?” Frankie asked.

“A lizard!” Kate announced.

“Cool,” Matt said.

And, of course, they looked; but I got the sneaky suspicion Frankie and Matt were a bit envious that Ashley had a lizard and they didn’t. Anyhow, once she put him in a safe place so he couldn’t escape his tissue prison, I didn’t hear another thing about him until we had finished the lesson and they were completing their craft project. Then, with a sudden stab of conscious, Ashley decided she should probably let him go and asked to go the restroom. Of course, Kate asked to join her. I said Ashley could go, but after the minutes ticked by I left Frankie and Matt eating their snack and took Kate to see what was going on in the lady’s restroom.

Ashley had the lizard on the changing table. Not sure what she was doing, but she said she wanted to let it go. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll take the lizard outside. You go back to class.”

“Okay,” Ashley said happily and skipped back to class with Kate calling after her that she’d be right there. I took up the lizard and marched it through the fellowship hall to the nearest outside door.

“Um, Melissa…” Pete, one of our deacons, was in the hall with Jeremy as they prepared to do recreation for the evening. “Is something wrong? Do you need anything?”

“No,” I replied as I opened the side door and let the lizard out on the pavement. “Just setting a lizard free.”

Not sure what they thought of that, but I guess it’s all in a day’s work…

Ramblings

Last night as I was trying to think about what I would blog this morning, I came up with one subject: Sometimes I feel like I live like a nun. Only I don't wear a habit. I just have habits. Like being so confoundingly responsible and reliable I get walked all over. Which is why I'm sequestered in a corner office not my own this morning all by myself. I'm also not Catholic...but I am single, and I do work inside four walls day in and day out doing the same things over and over again. I guess I could change into black drapery, but its way too hot to give that a second thought...

This morning I had the thought while I was out jogging at 5:30 in the dark, sweating in over 80 degree temperatures that I would entitle this post "Ramblings". Which made my heart sink. For how I would love to ramble right now in a beautiful forest in the cool of the morning, a nip of autumn in the air as September slips in from around the corner. But there are no forests in "Metroplex" Texas - just cement. And even if there were, all the trees would be dead by now because we've had a few hours of rain once in the last three months and our thermometers don't read anything below 100.

I know the east coast is posed for a hurricane forecasters say will be of mass proportions. Lucky them. Most of us in Texas would pay big money for a storm like that. Even though it would cause a lot of damage, knocking down all the dead trees. But Haley and I would be fine. We have a huge pantry right in the center of the house: lots of food and water. We could play Scrabble and Hand 'n Foot for hours!

The clapboards on my dollhouse are coming along. I've got only the narrow parts where the three sections meet and the top half of the tower left. I'll get them cut today in my sequestered corner and need to paint a few more to complete it. It's looking good, but as I was studying it earlier this week it reminded me of a haunted house: windows with no glass, clapboards and no trim. And do you know something? The whole style of that house is very much like the house in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. Which is a little freaky.

So, why am I in a sequestered corner today? Well, two months ago the floors in our office were supposed to be done. Out would go the green carpet, in comes wood flooring. Well, after waiting and waiting it was suddenly decided yesterday that it would be done today. And if I didn't already know, I am like a postman. Come rain, snow, brutal heat, sleet, hail, hurricanes (so I actually wouldn't be in the pantry with Haley, I'd be at work) the office must be open which means only one thing: Melissa must be there. Because even though my boss put up a fight over the disruption on a Friday, it's perfectly okay because he can move Melissa to a corner in the next door law firm and take the day off. Melissa is reliable. Melissa knows her duty. Heaven and earth will pass away before Melissa doesn't do her job. At camp, they called me "hard core". I think that's another word for pushover.

A friend told me, "Well, it will be something new." But I don't see things that way. I see an office full of strangers who I hope I won't bother. Even in my little corner behind a wall so no one can see me, I feel like I'm in the way. If it were possible, I'd melt into the wall. And the fact that moving over here wasn't even discussed bothers me. For I don't usually mind being reliable, but I hate being presumed upon. And so left alone, holding down a fort that isn't really my responsibility.

But this morning, I think God was laughing at me. For at church on Wednesday I taught from the children's catechism question: "Why did God make you and all things?" Answer: "For His own glory." Which means that everything we do must be for His glory. And my test is today. Can I sit in a little corner, alone and forgotten unless equipment needs to be ordered or a problem solved, and glorify my God? I'd better. For I've got four 4th graders to give an account to.

God's Love

The love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints’ and angels’ song.

The words of this hymn have echoed in my head often over the last couple of years as God has taught me how much He really loves me. It's a truth we all ought to know, right? After all, how many of us could sing Jesus Loves Me backwards? And yet we forever need to be reminded.

Smack Dab in the Middle of God's Love is a colorful book that will remind kids that, yes, their God does love them. Very much. So much that He keeps us safe - smack dab in the middle - of His wondrous love. Kids will love the colorful pictures and story of a loving couple who teach the kids in their neighborhood about God's love.
Interested?
http://www.thomasnelson.com/consumer/product_detail.asp?sku=1400317134&title=Smack_Dab_in_the_Middle_of_God%27s_Love

This book was provided by Thomas Nelson Publishers for review purposes.

Dear Charlie,

Tomorrow will be your 18^th birthday. And it’s very hard to believe that my baby sister is 18 years old. Finished with high school. Starting college. Getting her driver’s license. Working two jobs. And kicking me out of my bedroom. (Which, I hope, you’ll be kind enough to share when I come home to visit.)

Probably anything I say to you that I hope would be somewhat-wise-counsel from what minimal experience I’ve had in this life you’ll just correct me on. So, I won’t bother to tell you how to use your money wisely, or study hard, or be kind to people. Because I’m pretty sure I have it all wrong anyhow. Right?

But despite the fact that I’m never right and you always are, I do love my baby sister very much. I loved reading stories to you, and taking you to the store with me, and listening to how you’re going to take care of Caleb. I miss hiding up in your room at night and jumping out to make you scream. There’s simply no one to tease at my house (unless you count the cats, but they don’t snap back at you). And when I play a game, there is no one to tell if I’m playing it wrong.

In truth, there are many things I admire in you. Foremost is your determination to succeed in what you want to do. I don’t mean being President of the United States (but if you do get that far, we can have your blue wedding cake then since you’re not getting married but you want a blue cake). But you work and study hard to become what you’ve wanted to do since you were six years old. One day, I don’t doubt, you will be an attorney. Just remember in the midst of your determination to be ever ready for what the Lord has for you. For, truly, you never know. But what He has for you is always the best.

So, on your 18^th birthday, I hope you have a very special day. I’m sure you will ace your driver’s test with perfection. And that Caleb will get you something you will always treasure. Wish I could be there, but as I no longer have a room….just kidding. :)

Happy Birthday!

Love, Melissa

Abigail…my baby sister.

Clapboards

Well, when I finally tackled the wiring of my dollhouse, I thought that would be the challenge to overcome. I think that's nothing compared to these clapboards. They looked easy. Straight lines. Some glue. Press. Cut to size. Done. Hah!

So, before tackling this next step on my dollhouse, I decided to read up on it. First, I read the directions that came with the dollhouse. Then I checked out what people were saying on-line. Which sent me to the store to buy a different kind of glue. But, that done, I was ready to go.

I have to say this task has taken some trial and error. Well, trial. Not any error. I mean nothing has had to be done over again. But I figured out cutting the clapboards before I put them on the house is easier. (And thereby allows me to avoid cuts from the Xacto knife!) And a little bit of hot glue goes a long way to keeping them from giving into the law of gravity. Now several days into this project, I've got it down to a system. Which will hopefully make the remaining sides go a lot faster than these two have! (And I'm also hoping they'll look better once the windows and trim are attached...)

One side down...

And now two...

Survival of the Not-so-Fit

Well, we didn't make it. Yesterday afternoon the sky grew wonderfully dark. The wind picked up. The temperature dropped. And...well, that was it. Until over an hour later when the sky cleared and just enough of what I understand is referred to as "rain" fell to make my car dirtier than it was. With that brief moment of hope, the anticipation of folks all over the "metroplex" (as these wannabe city dwellers call the Dallas/Fort Worth area) collapsed. For we didn't break the record. In 1980, there were 42 straight days of over 100 degree temperatures. Now 31 years later, we fell just short: 40 days.

Now I know what it must have been like for Noah with rain falling for 40 days and 40 nights. Only I can't remember what rain looks like. (And I'm just about serious: Haley and I watched a movie last week and it was raining. It looked really weird.) But I certainly know what temperatures over 100 are like. Day in and day out. They are draining. And exhausting. And irritating. And hopeless. And almost make me cry. Yesterday it hit but 98, and it felt like I needed a jacket. But no worries. Today it will reach well over 100. Just as it will on Saturday, and Sunday, and Monday, and...you get the picture. In fact, I can honestly say I don't have much hope that autumn will ever arrive. Let alone winter. And now I think I'm going to cry again...

I decided today when I stepped outside and just about melted that evolution can't possibly exist. Otherwise I would have evolved into a withered prune by now.

But on the up side, I have kids in my life again. It's been two years since kids have lightened my days, and I'm so excited I couldn't get to sleep Wednesday night. I was asked by the leaders at church to teach the 3rd, 4th and 5th graders on Wednesday evenings. And I didn't think twice about saying yes, even if it means long Wednesdays and lots of miles on my car. It's more than worth four kids who make my life and all its adult "issues" go away for one hour. This Wednesday I learned that the battle of Jericho is the best story in all of Scripture because a whole city gets demolished. (And what is cooler than that to 8 and 10 year old boys?) Or there is a shark called the "goblin shark" and, yes, it is quite ugly. (Had to Google it...) And that Kate loves the story of Noah's Ark not because of all the animals (as most 8-year-old girls would), but because a whole family worked together and God saved them. Somewhere in the midst of everything I learned, I hope God used me to teach the kids something. I also hope they enjoy our Wednesday evenings together because I intend to have a blast!

Brutus

In December of 2004, a little bundle of joy arrived in our home in Londonderry, New Hampshire all the way from Texas. A four-footed little bundle of joy - a surprise gift from my dad to my mom for Christmas. Mom named her little Great Dane Brutus (after the Disney movie "The Ugly Dachshund").

For the next few months of our lives, we stopped watching movies and watched Brutus grow. Every day. Every hour. Probably every minute. We laughed when our pastor's little daughter came into the house and would give the dog bigger than her a huge hug while her older brother escaped out Caleb's bedroom window versus walking through the living room where Brutus would come up to him to play. For I don't think Brutus ever realized how big he truly is.

A gentle giant. The one who would sidle up to you and lean against you, the way a Great Dane does to show affection. The one who hides behind Mom's skirts when in public, or has to be pushed and shoved into the vet's office. He always wanted to sit with you on the couch for a movie, even if it was just his backside. And he loved to put his slobbering nose right in your face. And one icy morning, he got my fallen mom back into the house. A hero.

This last week, we had to Brutus down. Like most big dogs, his back legs gave out on him. He couldn't get up and he lost control of his bladder. Because we love him, we let him go.

And, so, when I return home for the holidays there will be no big creature lumbering up to greet me, lean against my legs before I can get my footing, or plop his rear next to me on the couch. And I will sorely miss him.

The day after his arrival. Isn't he cute?

Not a week later, napping with his mommy and friend.

Puppies nap a lot...and so do their mommies!

Later that month...I guess we're in elementary school.

Junior high...that awkward time when you're not quite grown into your paws!

February now...just about full grown!

Beautiful full grown Great Dane!

Brutus
November 4, 2004 - August 5, 2011

Are you Organized?

I don’t know how many times I’ve been told that organizing is a gift. And maybe it is, but half the time I think it’s a curse. I don’t mean the half that sorts things alphabetically (which, I’ve learned, most people don’t do naturally) or puts things back where they belong (like your mother taught you). I mean the part that sorts every part of life into neatly marked boxes: friendships, trials, joys, enemies. Everything is easier to deal with correctly sorted, right? Or maybe there’s just safety in putting something in a box and pushing it out of sight.

So, the other day I was checking out the news online (you know, debt problems and sports players signing contracts for enough money to pay off the national debt and all that other fun stuff) and saw an article entitled “10 Habits of Highly Organized People”. I thought, “Mmh, I wonder how organized I really am,” and clicked on it. I thereby discovered that in spite of my best efforts to trade in my organizing gift/curse into a more spiritual-like gift, I’m doomed.

First of all, I made the not-so-happy discovery that I do things I didn’t know organizers do. Like walk away from bargains. (I mean, why spend money on something I don’t need?) Or separate my emotions from my possessions. (At the end of the day, even my books are just something I own.) Or foresee – and avoid – problems. (Well, I make extremely elaborate attempts to do this even if it doesn’t always work…) How truly organized I am!

Of course, there are some things I know I do. Like I never label anything miscellaneous. Otherwise how would I find it? I don’t exactly schedule decluttering sessions, but I do plan them in advance. (Of course, I do that with everything possible.) I certainly stick with what works. (No need to reinvent the wheel.) And I do have a “dump zone”. Which is a common mis-conception among those who are not members of “Organizers Anonymous”. (“Hi, my name is Melissa. And this morning I did NOT fold my laundered clothes. But I did this afternoon.”) For we organizers do have piles: piles of things we couldn’t sort the moment we stepped through the door. But until we do get around to putting the things in the pile away, we know exactly what is in it.

Now there were a few things I didn’t agree with 100%. Such as making peace with imperfection. Those closest to me know I haven’t signed any such peace treaty. But further explanation on this point aimed an arrow right at my chest. For it is true that I give “A-level effort” to projects I think are important while for the rest I do just enough to get it done. (All while multi-tasking, naturally.) And just ask my mother to tell you if I ever ask for help. I don’t fall anywhere near the exposing myself to embarrassment and calling for backup. That’s because I try my utmost to plan everything well enough I don’t need backup. And as far as knowing where to donate things, well, I don’t really know where. I just know to clean out my closet and give them away to somebody…or throw it in a big, black trash bag.

So, I guess I will have to face the fact that God made me an organizer. Because you don’t know how hard I’ve tried not to organize – and failed miserably! And while one friend thinks I’ve got the greatest gift bestowed upon mankind, I’m still getting over being unable to trade it in for something more spiritual like mercy or teaching. Of course, if I had one of those gifts I’d probably complain because my room’s a mess and I can’t find anything! Such is being human. There’s always something to gripe about…each carefully noted and placed in a box marked “Complaints”.

P.S. As I told a friend about this posting, the first comment I received was, “And I bet it will be written in a neat, organized manner.” Just for that, I wanted to write it unorganized…if only I could think that way!

Dollhouse Update

I don’t even remember the last time I gave any update on the progress of the dollhouse, but it’s been a while since I’ve done any real work on it. Two weekends ago, I bit the bullet and started on the wiring: a task more daunting in my imagination than in reality (as most things usually are).

While in New Hampshire, I went to a dollhouse shop I had passed many times while I lived there but never stopped in to see. Allyson’s little girl Violet and I wiled away an hour there admiring all the wonderful things one can have for one’s dollhouse. There I picked out a sofa for the living room and Violet helped me pick out a couple of toys for the nursery: a carousel and a train. It was also a very informative trip. I got to see things I had only seen on the internet (flooring, doors, brickwork, etc.) and I talked to the woman there about wiring my dollhouse. Her suggestion was to bring my house up for one of their workshops and she’d walk me through it. I told her I was from out of town (while trying to imagine me carrying my house through security at an airport…), so she showed me a house they had recently done and told me the easiest way to do it. I have taken her advice and succeeded quite well – yea!

So, I guess the easiest way to wire a dollhouse is rather similar to the way you would wire a house: put electricity everywhere! Put the tape in one inch above the floor in all the rooms, allowing you to put outlets anywhere you care. Then put tape six inches above the floor, allowing for wall sconces wherever you wish. After that is done, vertical tape is used to connect it all and goes along the ceilings in the center of the room for ceiling lamps. Simple enough.

But, granted, I have made some mistakes. Well, sort of. I got the horizontal wires in quite easily, but ran out of tape. After a trip to a dollhouse shop in Dallas with my friend Jenny on Saturday (not as nice as the one in New Hampshire, but it had wiring tape), I put in most of the vertical lines last night. I have one to connect…and ran out of tape again, which I’ll order today. I’ve realized a couple of times I should have done something a bit different with the horizontal tape, but the good news is everything is in working order. Every time I turn it on and test the lines, the tester lights up! Success!

So, I’ll get the last of my tape in and finish that. Then, I think, I will start on the outside. Which looks quite daunting. After all, I have a ping pong table full of small pieces (and that doesn’t count the clapboards). But it looks like I have at least a free Saturday morning and afternoon, so I’ll see what damage I can do. And with Texas temperatures soaring well over 100 every day (for over a month straight) my workshop has moved into the middle of the living room. Truly, I could never find a more genial housemate than Haley!

Dollhouse wiring…copper tape connected with brads.