Button Up!

Photo Source: http://www.public-domain-image.com/free-images/objects/sewing-buttons/attachment/sewing-buttons

I have a ton of jewelry.  Some of it is antique or vintage, but most of it is costume, eccentric, and / or tacky.  That’s just how I like it; in fact, that’s who I am – vintage, eccentric, and / or tacky.  I’m 42 and still working on getting better.   

I found myself somewhat frustrated some time ago, because I am a bit obsessive-compulsive and was finding it hard to keep up with all my jewelry pieces, and I like to take care of them. 

At first, The Hubster (we’ll call him Adrian since that’s actually his name), lent a hand.  He, too, is OCD and for his own empathy’s sake wanted to see it organized.  (He ain’t just purty)  He took a piece of his fishing tackle box and cut it down to fit my stand-up jewelry box that didn’t have dividers – just deep drawers.  I put all my earrings in the compartments.  I hung all my necklaces up with adorable hooks and got quirky baskets for all my rings and bracelets, but felt pretty cool about how he had engineered earring compartments. 

But I still found myself hunting and rifling through the partitions he had put together for me.  I could always find one earring and would have to hunt the rest of the compartments for the other because they would somehow split up when I would put them away.  It is like when I am certain I put two socks in the washer, but somehow only one comes out of the dryer!

I always hook my loops together.  My jy-normous earrings I don’t ever have to worry about because I don’t tend to lose them as often – because they’re jy-normous.  But the ones that are posts, or dangly ones without loops to hook one another to…… I had no idea what to do with them.  So I started to clean the jewelry box out in hopes of coming up with an idea as I organized.  At the bottom of the jewelry box, I found a button.  I remember getting an adorable jacket at Goodwill (read back on the post: Goodwill Toward Men) and found an extra button in the pocket.  I remember putting it in the jewelry box thinking I had to find a place for the extra buttons I had, too.  And then……it came to me.  The idea that would take care of stray earrings AND extra buttons!

I took different-sized buttons out of my sewing kit – some people still sew!  I took extra buttons out of Cameron’s room.  I searched the house high and low for anywhere I thought I would find extra buttons.  I had buttons of all sizes, shapes and colors.  It was a button-fest!  The only extra button not being used was my belly button!  And here’s what I did:

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So remember: when you think there is no place for something, before you toss it aside, think about what other uses it may hold.  If you feel out-of-sorts and unorganized and find yourself rifling through the day, just stop – compartmentalize, and think about the things that are important; about the ways you can display the friendships of the people in your life so that those relationships can become vintage and well-cared for.  Search high and low for the love you have in your life of all different shapes, sizes, and colors.  And how do you keep them warm in your heart?  Just be sure to BUTTON UP!

Hard-Working Valentine

Photo Source: http://moonstarsandpaper.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html

One Valentine’s Day years ago, my husband asked me on a date.  Now, as married people trying to keep our marriage fresh, we go on date night quite often.  Sometimes it’s a romantic dinner out; sometimes it’s a romantic dinner in.  Sometimes it costs money, sometimes it doesn't.  A successful marriage is hard work and well worth it in the long run.

This particular time he took me out to dinner.  It was very nice.  I thought to myself how sweet my husband was as we were on our way home.  As we pulled in the driveway, I noticed he looked a little nervous.  Knowing my darling husband’s affinity for gas, I assumed the meal wasn't sitting right.

“I know this sounds weird, but I need you to stay in the truck for a few minutes.”  I had no idea what the heck he was talking about.  This particular Valentine’s was a little chilly outside and I had no intention of sitting in the truck to wait for the beautiful heat I knew was calling my name from inside the house.

“I don’t have a choice, She.  Please just trust me and stay out here for a few minutes.  I’ll come get you.”  He must have read my face.  But I’m no fool.  It was obvious at that point he had something romantically diabolical going on, and I wasn't ABOUT to ruin it.

Sure enough, a few minutes later my husband came to retrieve his chilly wife.  He came around to the door, opened it, took my hand, and looked like he was about to cry.  I realized that I, too, started getting a little nervous.

As I got to the walkway and was looking down in an attempt to watch where I was going in the dark in very high shoes, I noticed rose petals.  Lots and lots of them.  And they went right under the front door.  I stopped and looked up at Adrian, who REALLY looked anxious and weepy-eyed now.  He got in front of me, still holding my hand, and he opened the door.

Now to some, what I’m about to tell you he did may sound cheesy. And I don’t care.  That’s why he’s the best husband ever.  He IS cheesy, and he IS romantic, and he owns it, and that, Ladies, and Gentlemen, is why you can’t stop reading this particular blog post.  BOOM.

The door opened and it was dark, except for the ga-ZILLION candles.  (Maybe it wasn't a gazillion, but it was a lot – like the way you only see it on soap operas or Lifetime moves)  And Sade's  “This Is No Ordinary Love” softly rang through the house,  just like she was singing directly to to ME.   I looked down at the rose-petal path.  The smell of incense was the perfect touch as I looked at Adrian and he told me to “follow the path".  Around the corner and inside the room we go…straight to the bathroom. Wait.  That doesn't sound romantic.  Let me say it another way.  It led me straight to the Bath Room.  There, a hot bubble bath was waiting, with rose petals sprinkled into it.  On the side of the tub…the pièce de résistance – a glass of wine!! 

You would think it stops there.  But it doesn't.  He washed my hair for me.  He washed my feet for me.  And he cried and told me how blessed he was to have me. And all the while, Sade sang her lungs out.

He had really worked hard for me - for us.

And then (of course) as the story goes…Bowchickabowbow!!  (Now simmer down, Folks.  We married-and-deeply-in-love people tend to do that sometimes.)

Go and enjoy your Valentine’s Day.  If you have a Valentine, whether it's your spouse, your parent, a special person in your life -  take the time to put a little hard work into the relationship.  Trust me when I tell you the hard work will pay off in the long run.

 Thank you for being my Valentine every day, Adrian.  I love you so.

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

Picture Perfect Memories

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Have you ever looked back on a picture and thought to yourself, “WHAT WAS I THINKING??”  I do it ALL the time, unfortunately.

There are some I cringe to look at because I was so young and now I’m so not.

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Ahhh, the days of innocence when the thought of the chemical lighter fluid behind me didn't make me think of eating a carcinogen marshmallow.

There are some that I abhor because I was fat.

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Woo!  And I actually got fatter than THAT!

There are some I look at and am embarrassed because I thought I was all that.

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Well, I WAS all that in this picture, but I’m standing in a Dollar Store posing like that, soooo not really.

There are some I look at and think, “What was I wearing??”

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What??  That cotton puffpaint-suit had matching earrings!

There are some that confuse me because I just don’t know WHAT I was trying to do.

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Uhhh…YEA.

There are some pictures that make me just miss my old eyebrows.

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Brook Shields had NOTHIN’ on me, apparently.

There are some where I realize, the higher and bigger the hair, the higher and bigger the fool.

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I wonder where I was all dressed up to go in my Z Cavaricci pants with the towel so elegantly draped over the window behind me?

There are some that even friends warn you not to show.

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(From Facebook): Hugh Durlam: "WOW. Some pictures are meant to be burned. I'm not sure what the biggest offender in this pic is; The hair, the wine in the jelly jar, or the wood paneling."

‘Nuff said.

Some I just wish for that smooth, collagen-plump baby face back.

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But not the dress.  OR the hair.

Some I’m not even sure are ME.

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Dang it.  It’s me.

And then there are those pictures that are worth a thousand words.

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Or no words at all.  (That one is so bad, that I cropped the other person out of the photo to help them avoid the embarrassment of standing there with me!  You're welcome.)

Yep.  I think we all have a collage of pictures we’re not sure we’d ever have the courage to show.  But I don’t regret one of them.  Nope, not even the puffpaint-suit one.  Each and every one of them contains a memory that has evolved me into the person I am today, and given me the life I now cherish and know is short-lived.

I wish I had a picture for every single moment: the good AND the bad.  It would give me a chance to reflect on what was sweet and savory, and what mistakes helped me learn and gave me wisdom.  I don’t have pictures of the hours I labored to give birth to Cameron and my bff, Sina, wouldn't let me push too early so that he would come into this world with a beautiful and perfectly round head.  I don’t have a photo for the moment I received a call that a good friend died.  I don’t have a photo for the first time Chelsea said, “I love you, Mommy.”  There is no photo I have to represent the very instant I accepted Christ as my Savior and my whole life changed.  I don’t have a photo for the first time I saw Jordan cry and it made my chest feel pinched.  I don’t have a photo to represent the heartaches of broken relationships.  I don’t have a photo of the butterflies in my stomach when I met Adrian and knew he was The One.  But though I don’t have a photo for those things, I have a picture of them.  They’re all in my memory, and they’re all perfect.  So go on and shake your head in revulsion over that photo of you dressed in satin shorts and tube socks with the world’s worst hair cut – but make sure you keep the picture of that memory in the perfect album: Your Heart.

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Blue to the Bone

Photo Source: https://pixabay.com/en/two-hearts-red-heart-love-symbol-631344/

When Chelsea was born 21 years ago today, I knew the second she came into the world she would be a force to be reckoned with.  She didn't cry.  She had to be tapped on the bottom with the doctor’s first two fingers before she started to sound like a sweet little lamb.  (It wasn't the last time she would be tapped on the bottom for her rebellious nature!)  But that cry had a certain tone to it – it was different and I knew it right away.

Every night when Chelsea was little, she and I had a ritual after her night-time bath.  I would blow dry her hair and sing a song I knew from when I was a kid called Blue to the Bone.  I have no idea where I learned it or how I knew it – just seemed like it had always been there.  When the blow dryer would go, I would sing it to Chelsea and by the time the song was done, her hair would be dry.  One night, she started to sing it first.  Her voice sounded just so pretty – and she was so stinkin’ cute!  So I started to sing with her, only I added harmony.  Much to my surprise she held her own and a beautiful sound emerged from the lovely acoustics of the bathroom!  (oxy-moronic statement much?)

For my birthday one year, Adrian got a friend of ours, Vic Mignona, to record us singing this song.  He had a recording studio in his home and he does a lot of professional production work, among other things.  Vic added some music and even had Adrian add some bass to the end chorus!  (Picture “Daddy Sang Bass” a la Johnny Cash!)

It was a wonderful gift, as was Chelsea being born.  I still listen to it and when I do, I can’t believe my Little Lamb is all grown up.  She has been through very hard times with grace, and it has pushed her faith to the limit.  But that little rebel never let those times make her blue to the bone.  Instead she created her own song in life, realizing that the decisions she made would create her legacy – understanding life is not always beautiful harmony, but to make the most for every bit of it and be thankful for the opportunity to have a purpose here in this life.

Happy Birthday, Chelsea Dane.  I love you.  Thank you for making my life better.

Here is the recording of Chelsea and I singing Blue to the Bone (featuring Adrian singing bass at the end): 

Sam, I Am

Photo Source: http://www.clipartpanda.com/clipart_images/dr-seuss-clip-art-2185822

As a young girl, I, like many other young girls, would dream up my prince charming.  Mine was tall with dark hair and smoldering eyes, smart, and funny.  He would be the guy that would do anything for his wife.  He would ride in (on a white horse, of course) just in time and save the day.  As an (ahem) older, (much) wiser woman, I now realize that dream came true (minus the horse, of course).  But I’m not just talking about my Prince Charming of a husband.  I've been blessed enough to have the very same dream come true for my daughter.  Little did I know when I was praying for that perfect guy for me, I was asking for the very same for my then not-yet-a-twinkle-in-my-eye daughter.

Sam is what I always refer to as “proof of the power of a praying parent.”  (Say THAT five times fast!)  To say that he is a good husband to our daughter is an understatement.  There is no doubt in our minds that if there was a bullet coming toward her, he would jump in front of it (though we believe it would bounce off his chest).  Yes.  He is definitely a superhero.  The gentle, sweet, and lovely kind  - with the inner strength and moxie of ten men.

But being Chelsea’s husband is not Sam’s entire identity to us.  Sam is someone we've watched go through the horrific loss of his older brother with grace and mourn his loss with full-force.  Sam is that same man that stood with his shoulders taut so that his family could rest on them during that tragedy.  Sam is the man that stands for what’s right at the risk of losing to what’s wrong.  He is the same man that trembled a little when he proposed to Chelsea, but stood tall and strong to look her in the eye on her wedding day.  Sam is the man that took us to lunch to ask for our daughter’s hand in marriage with the promise to protect her, and the man who has followed through on that promise thus far.  He is the man that looks at me with a softness that makes me forget he’s not my own child.  Sam is the man that can look at Chelsea like she is the most beautiful woman that ever existed and yet, like she’s a steak and he’s starving all at the same time.  He is Sam.  Not Sam who tries too hard or pretends to be someone he isn't.  If you were to ask him why he is this way and how did he get here, he would humbly shrug his shoulders, and say with that serious tone-of-voice and a wry little half-smile, “That’s just who I am.”

Sam, I am.

I don’t know that I can extend to you how grateful I am to have that for Chelsea – and for this family.  In this world, and in this life, you never know what you’re going to get.   But I prayed for him – and he came.  God sent him.  Yes.  Sam is a God-send.

Our family goes through the ups and the downs.   And Sam is part of both every step of the way.  But his faith remains strong.  His belief system is part of his make-up – and he won’t let his own burdens weigh on you.  I sometimes stand in amazement at how this is true of our son-in-law.  I watch him with his wife (our daughter) and how he loves her without condition.  I watch him with his younger brother and two younger brothers-in-law, and how he tries so hard to be a leader.  I watch him with his parents and how he loves them enough to be his own man, but thankful for the man they've helped him become.  I watch him silently allow people to be themselves while he slyly watches in the background, careful never to steal any thunder.  I watch him and wish I could say I was Sam.  Sam, I am.

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

I Scream, You Scream

Life is short and it is fleeting.  It is the human nature in us that makes us wish our life away.  What do I mean?  “I can’t WAIT ‘til Friday!”  Or “I wish it was next week already!”  It’s what we do when there is something exciting or better waiting for us.  And we push away the bad times that exists if we can help it in an effort to get to the better time.  But each moment that is given to us is still part of the life we have.  Not every second of my 41-and-three-quarter years on this earth have been all cheese and lollipops, BELIEVE ME.  But I don’t regret one bit of it.  I have learned to embrace the times that are not-so-good or the things we deem as bad – even sickness and death.

There are people we don’t get along with, either.  You know the ones.  When you've done everything you can to be positive and have a smiley, ooey-gooey kind of day, and in one fell swoop the person you have to be around (sometimes there are several, but there’s always at least one) who is actually at their happiest being miserable, comes along and with one comment – ruins it.

This person could even be someone you love.  Most times they aren't, but there are things that can happen with some of the most important people in your life that can bring you down.  We don’t all get along with our parents or spouses every single moment of the day, do we?  Arguments and disagreements can happen.  There have been times I've had actual screaming matches with my children.   (insert diabolical-I-can’t-believe-it music here)  I remember one where my daughter, Chelsea, and I were both screaming so loudly at the same time … and we would stop at the same time, and start up again at the same time.  The memory of it is funny now, but wasn't so at the time – luckily, she is one of my best friends now.  Not that the kids wanted me to be upset or they enjoyed being upset, but it didn't make for a warm, fuzzy time in our lives when we argued or had screaming matches.  But they are grown now and I wouldn't trade any of those arguments for anything.  It’s what my legacy for them will be built from and what taught them (and me) life lessons.

I believe God allows us to have those moments – or even suffer – to bring opportunity to us: opportunity to learn, opportunity to set an example, opportunity to be there for one another, and opportunity to lean on Him and draw closer.  I also believe God allowed good things for the same reason…like ICE CREAM.  I believe God created ice cream to ease the pain like no medicine can.

The other day, I was really mistreated by someone … so much so that they brought (hard-core) me to tears.  I was in an almost-panic attack.  My chest hurt, my ears were ringing, and there was nothing I could do about it in this particular situation.  Now this someone was not someone close to me or in my immediate family, but they are still in my life, and they are one of those miserable people I mentioned earlier.  It was awful.  But I also have a friend, Deborah, who knows about God’s wonderful elixir that is the creamed ice.  She went into action like some superhero from an ice cream comic book.  (In fact, typing this story, I see her with her hands on her hips, and her beautiful multi-colored sundae cape flying behind her in the wind.)  She simply walked up to me and said, “Come on, we’re gonna go for a ride.  It’ll only take fifteen minutes.”  Sweeter words were never spoken.  She took me to a wonderful, God-inspired, nectar in a sugar cone.  She even took into consideration that I am an organic girl and made certain what I was eating was all right – not that it mattered, to be honest.  Ice cream is ice cream, and there is no bad ice cream.  With one lick of that soft cloud of vanilla goodness, all the bad feelings started to melt away.  By the time I had finished the cone, I felt like a new woman.  I think about what made me sad to begin with and it doesn't feel good.  But I don’t regret the bad part, because without it, I never would have been brought closer to a friend who did what it took to make me feel better, and I never would have gotten the ICE CREAM!!

I have attached a home-made ice cream recipe below so that you can always have this amazing tool at arm’s length so that when you've had a bad day because of hard times, or a miserable person, or even screaming matches with the ones you love the most.

Yes, life is short and fleeting.  Do your best to NOT be that person that people think are miserable or that makes people miserable.  It’s the legacy you create while you’re alive, and the legacy you leave when you go.  Remember the good things in life, even when bad things happen.  It’s been this way since the dawn of time, and we've always screamed for the goodness when sometimes it’s right in front of us; screamed for the bad things to go away; screamed for God to get us through those times.  I've screamed.  You've screamed.  I pray you get some ice cream.

Homemade Organic Ice Cream without an Ice Cream Maker

Ingredients:

1 cup organic whole milk

1 tsp organic vanilla extract

2 tbsp organic sugar

6 chocolate sandwich cookies, crushed in a plastic baggie with flat side of a meat pounder – this ALSO helps with

anxiety or anger :-)) My fave brand of organic chocolate sandwich cookie is Late July

1/2 cup organic ice cream salt

Ice

1 gallon-size Ziploc baggie

1 quart-size Ziploc baggie

Directions:

Fill the large plastic bag with ice and ice cream salt. Carefully (maybe use a small funnel?) fill the smaller bag with the

milk, vanilla and sugar. Seal the small bag tight – MAKE SURE IT’S CLOSED.

Place the small bag inside the large ice-filled bag and seal large bag tightly.

Shake bag up and down for 10 minutes, putting some serious “elbow grease” into the shake, shake, shake.)

until ice cream has formed!

Scoop out ice cream and combine with crushed cookies, or topping of choice. (Obviously, you don’t have to use organic

ingredients, it’s just how I do it for my own family.  Either way, ENJOY!!)

Angry Birds

Photo Source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/tripletsisters/

Not everyone and not every time, but I’ve discovered that the majority of couples that have been together for a while tend to discourage newer couples......maybe it’s subconscious, may be it isn't, but either way - they do it.  An example of what I mean:  A baby bird couple with their brand new love-nest is holding hands and nuzzling noses in front of an older couple. “How long have you been married?” they ask. “Two years”, reply the baby bird couple. “Ooohhhhh. THAT explains it. Just wait until you’re at ten years! That lovey-dovey stuff WILL change!!”

Why does it have to? Adrian and I have been together 13 years, and married for 11 ½ of them, and I can guarantee we love and care for one another much deeper and more than EVER. We’ve discussed it, in fact. We definitely nuzzle and snuggle and hold hands and (get ready for it) are intimate – OFTEN.

We tease our daughter and son-in-law, Chelsea and Sam, a lot because they are so cheesy. She literally has six (and counting!) 'I Love My Hubby' t-shirts. And social media?? FORGET IT! They are so schmoopy-woopy that it gives ya a tooth ache when you read their status updates! We told them they had one year of newly-wedded bliss before we would start calling them out about it and they needed to cease and desist because it was ridiculous. Well, their one-year anniversary was this last week. And I’ve changed my mind – shame on us for ever trying to STOP them from openly caring for one another and spread the love! They can be as sugary and drippy as they want – it is NOT ridiculousness. It is a gem that they have such a magnificent appeal and affinity for one another and I pray I never discourage it again. They have even said to Adrian and I they have learned so much about how to be a loving couple from us, so why would I ever want to discourage them from shouting from the rooftops and having love and respect for one another?...for being love birds?

Here is the part where I want to make sure I’m real with you – am I saying Adrian and I do not get on each other’s nerves or have disagreements? No. You better bet your bippy nothing could be further from the truth. I have always said the hardest job in the world is being married to me and being the confident husband that lets me be myself. I’ve also said that our son-in-law is proof of the power of a praying parent. Being a couple is HARD WORK.  If you’re willing to put in that hard work, it can only get better, and not be so hard in the long run.  You can become mature, full-feathered love birds.

If you don’t believe in public displays of affection or that it’s possible to still get butterflies when your other half walks into the room (like I do), and you are certain that’s the way life as a couple is expected to turn out, then so be it. I just think we should try not to wring the love out of the couples that don’t share that belief by pushing those views on THEM and telling them that’s the way it’s supposed to be for EVERYONE.

Recently, I witnessed the face of baby bird drop when she heard from an angry bird how disappointing husbands become and that the blush on her cheeks when talking about her husband would fade with time. I looked baby love bird straight in the eyes and said “That’s not how my husband and I are and we’ve been together 13 years. He is the love of my life. Its hard work to keep it sizzling, but we manage. It’s SO worth it.” She looked at me with hope in her eyes as the angry bird snapped, “Well, that’s rare.”

And she’s right. It is.

We, as mere human beings (the bird analogy was for the sake of the post), tend to cling to the negative. We also tend to discourage naturally. The truth is, we ALL want encouragement, love, and respect for emotional wholeness in ANY relationship we have. Concentrate. Make certain you hold the relationships in your life to a high esteem and don't force your own negativity on those who seem happy. Keep it real, knowing it’s not an easy road - but if you're conscientious about what you say and how you say it; if you’re willing to admit that lovey-dovey is not ridiculous, but rather ATTAINABLE; if you choose to be a love bird instead of an angry bird and you’re swift to deliver the message that you’re on love’s side and it’s so worth it – IT WILL BE.