Blogging

You know you are a blogging nerd when you drive down the street composing blogging ideas.

Today, whilst headed to the post office to mail off more dishrags of love to Ennis, and a birthday book to the niece, (only aunts give boring old books for birthday presents), I decided to head to the bank for quarters in case we go to north Dallas tonight. I found myself composing a blog about wearable grocery list labels. I have been trying to keep ahead of the new quarters for James' collection, and got their last roll of the new Arizona. Whoop. New quarters are much more fun to use. Hand them to a clerk, and they get excited, too.

Too many times now, I get to the store without the "want" list. Last night, to help me remember to stop and get a gallon of milk at Braums after church (right across the street from church), I tore off part of a label edge to put on my shirt. Bob found it funny that I was wearing a milk label on my chest, so I moved it to my arm. But, for us old folks, need wearable labels. Maybe I will pick up a package of "Hello, my name is..." labels. Then when folks notice: "Hello, my name is tp, oil and brake fluid" maybe, then I not forget what I came to shop for. The "Hello.." labels could also attach to my purse. I have tried clipping a 3x5 card to my purse with a clothespin, but the clothespin hurts under my arm.

And I want to remember how just last night, Bob did a lesson on Christ our Passover, and explored what Paul meant when writing to Gentiles in Corinth to celebrate Christ our Passover. He taught us the blessing said at Passover: Blessed be God Almighty Who brings forth bread from the earth. And how we celebrate by FAITH. When Jesus said, "eat my flesh and drink my blood" He meant that He is the Bread that comes down from heaven, and the Bread that ONLY God can bring forth from the grave. By faith in Him--trusting Him to do all He has promised, not by our gullibility, not by our work, and no boasting about ourselves. Boasting equals the leaven they were guilty of in Corinth. We need to beware the leaven, and lean on God daily. Not just at Passover. All the verses in Deuteronomy that talk about Passover, seen from the lense of the New Testament and the Gospels sing, resonate Christ. The original Passover foreshadowed the REAL Passover when Jesus died on the cross, the Lamb of God, on that Passover in 30 AD. It was easy to be amazed at the Deuteronomy verses---amazed how God declared so far ahead of time that He would proved THE lamb to take away the sins of the whole world.

Then, this morning, reading Trep's blog where Yonah repeated the blessing over his breakfast: Blessed be...who brings forth toast from the land. Toast is right, for when Jesus comes back, He will make toast of all Israel's enemies.

Warrior Home

Our Army son is home for a few days. What fun! We have an appointment to get a hitch installed on his truck, and we will probably eat at all his favorite places today and tomorrow...

And we finally got to reveal the surprise--




Bob made me keep it a secret until he pulled into the drive: vanity plates on our car in honor of James. When James was in first grade, his teacher called me from the copy room and showed me what James had done during her lesson, "Fortunately... and Unfortunately..." Apparently this was a yearly lesson because when I ran into her at the grocery store years later, she reminded me that it was time for that lesson again. On the first page, James had illustrated, "Fortunately, I have a BODM," and then, "Unfortunately, I FRTIID..." with a picture of said BODM and little circles for the expressed air. I had to try and keep a straight face with a very serious (at the time) first grade teacher. Sadly, she died this year of cancer, so in a way, this license plate honors her, too.

The State of Texas lets you play around with seven letters on their website, and so the plates have "TEXAS" in big letters on the top of the plates, and then, our special word, and then the state slogan, "The Lone Star State". Or, you can have any slogan from any crusade put on the bottom of the plates. It was so much fun picking up the plates the other day in downtown Fort Worth. Fort Worth is a very laid back downtown. Not too crowded. And never a line. I was afraid they would not allow me to have such plates, because, in some dictionaries, FART, is a naughty word. And I had the cute story ready, how this was to honor a recently deceased and loved first grade teacher that all my boys somehow managed to get. But, the clerk lady keyed it in without blinking. Our plates are also incrypted on the windshield label. One of these days, dear husband is gonna get stopped for his fast driving, and it will be so fun to see the police officer's face.

Now go over to Bob's site and see our nephew in Iraq!

Full Circle

Since our middle son is busy in the military now, I had the privilege of picking up his college diploma this morning. He received an email saying it was ready last week, but we were out of town, and unable to do it. When I tried yesterday, I found out that this was going to require a fax from middle son of his college ID, and a signed note from him that he had given me permission. So, after procuring the said documentation, I trouped back to the offices of administration, records, and registration, took a number, and waited again. This time, I was armed with a email copy of whatall the fax should look like. And the nice lady was able to call back into the bowels of the cubicles for said fax. And thankfully, she recognized him from taking a class with him. Whew. I realized that showing my drivers license does not prove I am his mom, but it does prove we have the same address. I got to sign my name and "for..." and today's date. And she handed it over. That diploma represents four years of our middle son's blood, sweat and late nights of studying. classes. labs. And I think he had perfect attendance, not that they keep track of that kinda thing in college. I don't think middle son ever missed, skipped, or was even late to a class. He finished high school in three years, and entered college that summer, so to finish college in four years shows it IS doable. And we are so proud of him. The bureaucratic nightmares are over.

As I drove away, there was a huge herd of newbies, soon-to-be freshmen clutching orientation plastic bags on a tour of the campus. I resisted the urge to yell something not very ladylike out the window. And I realized we had come full circle.

Some of the liberal-slanted classes required to graduate made college a less than enjoyable experience. Listening to the worst ever graduation speeches made us wonder what we had invited friends and relatives to experience. But, we are done. The mine field successfully navigated. Now we can safely bad-mouth the whole AISD experience. And laugh when the local college asks for more money. We are done contributing. Bitter? No, we just learned the hard way. Would I recommend the local college for someone? Only in the engineering, or nursing venue. Someday, we will ask our middle son if ROTC prepared him properly for whatall he is doing now. Someday, maybe he can go back and make it better, if that is his desire.

The Big Day

The jacket is hung with its patches and bars
In hopes that St. Nicholas... no, wrong holiday.

We did cut it close, however with the removing of the rotc patches and the discovery of gooey glue melted to the fabric. The soon-to-be second lieutenant was able to exchange the jacket, get the black cording removed from the old and transferred to the new, and pick it up at the cleaners just in the nick of time after commissioning practice and before dinner-with-the relatives who had traveled from afar. Wisemen from the east...

Our last hurrah. For we have not a daughter, thus, even when our sons marry, the focus will be on their bride, and our role will be to smile and proclaim everything wonderful and marvelous in our eyes.

Today we get to pin the golden butter bars upon his shoulder. Today we, thankfully, have no speaking role. And as much as I have asked about it, he has not previewed the paragraph he will speak. And being the last of the fourteen or fifteen, last alphabetically, we get to wait. I hope I don't trip, and I hope I don't irritate my sons too much asking them to smile for the camera.

Moms of sons have it easy compared to moms of daughters. I'd better go pack the extra kleenex packets in my purse before I forget.

Sweet Memories

I want to remember last Sunday. James’ last Sunday. Pastor asked James to come to the podium and explain where he was going, so James gave his list of places he goes this summer. Sounds like the Army is jerking him around, but he has it down pat. And yet, he is torn as to how much detail folks want.

James was not much ready to say good-bye because he knows he’ll be back for visits. He does not realize it, but folks will want a report then. And he may get tired of telling things, but we cannot depend on our press to get military stuff correct. And folks are grateful that men like James are purchasing our freedom on a daily basis. Soldiers in training don’t always feel like they are making a sacrifice having not seen battle nor the monotony of the in-between times. But, the training is what soldiers do 90 percent of the time. It gets them ready and keeps them sharp.

I think it kind of hit James that he was looking at a big change coming in his life. We have been counting down at home for months. Ever since last year’s commissioning ceremony, we have seen this day coming. And what with finals, and plans to accommodate friends and relatives for commissioning, we are sighing to the last time we ……………. This time next week, commissioning and graduation will be over, and James will be waiting for official grades and final paperwork and then he is off.

Little things occupy our time, like getting the correct patches on the uniform. Turning in old rotc uniforms. My little sewing ripper has gotten quite a workout. One patch came off okay, but we found a glue mess under another, so we took it by the cleaners for them to solve or dissolve. The Army green formal uniform is just for parties, dances, commissioning ceremonies, and reporting in. Camo is worn for everyday. And the camo diggies (ACUs) have myriads of pockets on the arms so that things can be stashed and accessed while wearing armor. Mr. Soon-to-be 2LT left a black pen in his brand new diggies. I bought the special “all” detergent without brighteners but no amount of detergent conquers black pens. I turned to my trusty JOY and got most of it out. Yikes. Our youngest used to leave black pens in his pockets all the time. These Army uniforms are not cheap. $85 for one piece. I don’t know if I even own an $85 pair of pants. I don’t think I own an $85 blouse, either!

One final down. Two to go. Then commissioning practice, and relatives start arriving. But, I want to remember Sunday, when Pastor asked Brother Ivan to come forward and pray for this man headed off to war. This man. Brother Ivan lost his wife of sixty years not too long ago. Brother Ivan included the family, and our firstborn in the Airforce. We will miss next Sunday, the Mother’s Day carnations and exhortations because UTA scheduled James’ graduation for noon.

And maybe the necessary patch James ordered will make it before Saturday so I can sew on one more ...one last time.