Birthday dinners at the house. So chaotic but so much fun. I love to see my grown children having fun with each other. There's something very satisfying about knowing they still like each other after all their growing up years. I think they bonded while facing their common nemesis...me. Not to sound like a martyr or anything, but let's be honest about a few things. Like it or not, when you're a kid, your mother is not always your best friend. She can say "no" faster than you can ask "why." She can put a damper on your best ideas before you can even get that match lit. Somehow my children survived their overly controlling, often hysterical, not always very much fun mother. I'm glad they have comrades-in-arms and plenty of war stories to share between them.
Love, Lori

If grandchildren were hot, new technological inventions, they'd be selling like hotcakes. Think about it. Each is a mini entertainment center, individually packaged, entirely unique and programmable. (I taught mine to tell me they love me) They are kissable, cuddly and hand-washable, and after a long day at home or at the park, you can give them back to their parents to be serviced and recharged. Then, on a downer day, when no one else wants to hear what you have to say, you can put them on your lap, nuzzle their warm little necks and whisper in their ears. They will giggle and squirm and beg for more. Seriously, I wish I owned the patten.
Love, Lori

My husband thinks I'm addicted. Personally, I think it's reasonable behavior. For the last nine years I have been looking over my shoulder, literally, at the television. I don't watch just any old thing. I watch news. I need news. No, not like a drunk needs a drink, but more like a driver needs a steering wheel. I have a sneaking suspicion that when I'm not watching, something big is going down without me. Like the twin towers. Like the pentagon. I don't think I've been traumatized or even terrorized like those in New York and D.C no doubt were, but I have been awakened, and I don't think I'll ever sleep quite as deeply again. So, when an eye-opening election rocks the political world, when a dirty deal is struck behind closed doors in the White House, when the price of food or gas soars or takes a dive, I want to know who's in control of the airplane, and where it's going to land. Yeah, I think I'll just keep my eye on that tube. Love, Lori

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm getting older. No, really, really old. There was a time when fifty years old was pretty much the end. I used to feel sorry for people like me with fifty big ones behind them. Actually, I still feel sorry for them/me. Although aging beats the alternative, it is not without its share of drawbacks. My body isn't the machine it used to be and that bugs me big time. Last night I went to take the garbage out. It had been raining, so I took off my socks so I wouldn't get them wet. I planned on a quick run out to the trash and back to the house, and before I knew what had happened, I was lying on my back with trash spread all over the porch and a really big pain in my left arm. Black ice. A few years ago I probably would have laughed and done a back flip to right myself again. Not so, last night. I stood up gingerly, and holding my arm I took several futile steps forward with my life flashing before my eyes. I did manage to get back to the house, eventually, and my husband picked up the garbage, and my arm is only bruised, but I know the ugly truth... I am a little bit...fragile.

Sunday evenings are a good time to contemplate the important "stuff." Family, home, faith, freedom... okay, chocolate milk, but I wasn't going to go there. No, really, isn't adversity "relative"? Not any ONE relative in particular, but relative in that my cold feet don't hold a candle to the feet in the streets of Haiti.
I'm sitting in my warm house, space heater notwithstanding, watching news coverage of the Haiti tragedy, surrounded by my loved ones, all equally safe and comfortable and I have to wonder what I'm supposed to do with my lot in life. Why me, and not them? What does God expect me to do about the suffering I see on my big, colored television? I can give money, and I will, but it can't be as simple as that. Doctors and nurses and armies and navies and governments will do what civilized people do when they have the means and the skills to help, but the rest of us will have to be content to do what is left to be done--- love a little better, smile a little quicker, serve a little harder and get down on our knees and thank Heavenly Father for every breath we take.

This Crazy World

My first blog. Wow. I've tried to set this up so many times before. I need make it work this time because I have so many ideas to bring to fruition and I need a blog site and a web site to move them forward. I wish I could tell you I have a new book about to be published, but that would be extremely premature, so I'll simply say I have high hopes for the future. If time spent writing automatically equaled success, Donald Trump and I would be having lunch in Paris, but I really don't like Donald, so its all good. I'll just keep rowing this little boat of mine, plugging up the occasional leak, and praying for good weather. See you when I get to shore!
Love, Lori