Blog post
How Do You Feel About Authority?
At my church, we have small groups that meet several times a month (like many others do). It is certainly a helpful way to be more closely related to friends and folks from church.
Our group meets twice a month, and one of the things we do is choose a study book which often lasts a year or so. This past year, we’ve been enjoying—and learning from a book called The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully, by Joan Chittister. She is an American Benedictine nun and has written numerous helpful books.
When I first looked at the chapter we were to study called “Authority,” I wondered, um, where is she going with this word? I’m not an authority, am I? I don’t really strive to be an authority.
But we all dug into this book offering new thinking, and I’ll capsulize it here. It gave me some new thoughts.
Okay, I’m no spring chicken but the opening quote from Cicero gave us pause: “Old age, especially an honored old age, has so great authority, that this is of more value than all the pleasure of youth.”
Well, I had to find out more about who Cicero actually was, rather than just someone to stump a Jeopardy contestant. Cicero was verifiably ancient—born 106 years before Christ and died in 7 BC. Before Christ. Wikipedia says he was a Roman statesman (politician??), lawyer, scholar, philosopher, a great orator, and writer!
So old age, he said, is better than our youthful days.
How, and what can aging mean for us?
We have a pick-up truck whose tires are aging, meaning that we better buy some new ones to keep the truck going. Most of us have equipment in our homes that is either failing or in need of repair. New stuff if what is needed, right?
Well, to an extent. But, with people, aging can be a special and delicious time of life.
As a mother of three daughters and now grandmother of five grandsons and two granddaughters (yay, finally, for the recent little girl arrivals to our family), I am thinking especially of how we adults and even oldsters can lead and teach and exert helpful authority. Not bossing around, but loving guidance and teaching of manners and love.
Chittister reminds us that it used to be in many societies all around the world, for those who were older, they were honored, respected, and in general, looked up to. Hmmm. Not seeing a lot of that although those of us who have been blessed with children and grands and great grands are—if they are taught well—can be grandparents who are looked up to. In ancient days, Chittister says “only the elderly were fit to rule.” I’m guessing that some were more fit and generous and helpful than others in their ruling. Be that as it may, as I get older, I can be happy that I can try to be a role model and helpful and loving.
My daughter was coaxing her daughter to apologize to her cousin after she hit him—not hard—but perhaps behavior observed or learned at her daycare. I don’t know. She pouted, didn’t want to apologize, perhaps didn’t know—although I know she’s been taught—what words to use. I said softly, just say “I’m sorry.” At last she quietly and quickly murmured “I’m sorry” and her oldest cousin responded nicely “thank you.” I wasn’t sure whether I should butt in, but I was so happy to hear her little “sorry.”
As older people, we do feel behind the times—can’t keep up with changes in technology, online or elsewhere. At least I do! I had to go without our computer for about two months this summer and when I finally got a working computer back again, I felt so out of it that I paid a guy I used to work with (who lives nearby) to come over and help me get started again with browsers and One Drive and Google photos etc.
We feel out of place and confused about many things—how SHORT do girls want their shorts to be, anyway?! Especially at football games, etc. We sigh and go on. Trends will change—nice long blue jeans and even long dresses and flowing skirts are also seen.
Chittister is now 86 and appears to be going strong as a theologian, author and speaker. She went to University of Notre Dame and Penn State University. She continues to be an influential person in social justice, peace and women’s issues, or so says Wikipedia. She says, “Clearly old age has a role to play in the development of the world around us. We do not live all these later years simply not to die. We live in order to make life better—both for ourselves and for others.”
She further points out that the calling to be comfortable and helpful in spreading wisdom doesn’t have a name in our current society. She mentions how “shamans” had roles as healers, religious leaders or counselors. Various religions have a role where those who are trying to help others and become even better persons as we age, is important. In such cultures there is “an understanding that in the older generations resides insight that is lacking to the younger ones,” says Chittister.
I like that idea, of trying to be better as we age. Retirement is for more than going to doctors (which is needed and important too, and understandably difficult as bones and diseases and muscles fade) and for long awaited vacations around the world. But we need to foster spiritual strength as elders.
Are we up to it? It gives us something to reach for in our older days.
It’s fall. October 7 now.
I have not made rolls or much of any yeast items for months, maybe even a year or two. I more often make instant-ish stuff, like sweet rolls out of a wrapped can of biscuits—which I douse with butter, brown sugar and cinnamon, and then after baking, top them with icing that I’ve mixed up with powdered sugar and cream. It worked for our family for a treat on Sunday mornings (when we used to be all home, five of us) and now after our Sunday morning yummies, my husband paces his share of the sweet rolls out for a quick breakfast treat the rest of the week, one day at a time.
Then I discovered I was totally out of bread in the freezer. Yikes, and I didn’t want to go to town or the little grocery 2 miles away. But luckily I had yeast and flour and shortening on hand.
So, I’m sharing an easy recipe if you enjoy making bread or rolls. This one comes from a well-known and top seller cookbook, Mennonite Country-Style Recipes & Kitchen Secrets, a collection by Esther H. Shank, and it received the Benjamin Franklin Award from Publishers Marketing Association back in 1987, with 100,000 copies in print at the point I received my copy. (Don’t know how many are in print now!) I’ve never tried this recipe, so I will let you know how they turn out.
I did make some delicious vegetable beef soup last night which will go great with these rolls, once I get them out of the oven!
Top-Notch Dinner Rolls
1 cup warm water
2 pks. dry yeast (2 tbsp.)
1 tbsp. sugar
Stir together until dissolved. Let set until foamy.
Then:
1 ½ cups hot water
½ cup shortening
½ cup sugar
2 ½ tsp. salt
Stir together until melted. Cool to lukewarm, and add to yeast mixture (or pour your yeast mixture into the water/shortening/sugar/salt mixture—is what I did.)
Then: Using approximately 10 cups sifted flour, or 8 cups unsifted, gradually add more flour, beating well. Then work in just enough more flour to make a soft but not sticky dough.
Grease the top of the dough, and then place in a greased bowl. Cover and let rise until double. Punch down and let rest 10 minutes, Shape into rolls and let rise until double again. Bake at 350 degrees about 25 minutes until lightly browned.
Yield: about 32 large rolls.
Ruby Petersheim
Esther Shenk is still living here in the Shenandoah Valley, as far as I know. She wrote a review for the cookbook I eventually put together (with others) in 2010, called Whatever Happened to Dinner.
Both books are available on Amazon.
Mennonite Country-Style Recipes – Herald Press
A Short Blip on a Long Problem – (this post especially for Rockingham County, Va. citizens)
Have you given up recycling all the plastics we use? When I go to events such as the fair—or locally we have “lawn parties” that serve lots of food and drinks—and end up with bags and bags of items to be trashed—I cringe that more can’t be recycled. Especially aluminum pop and beer cans.
In the old old days – I’m talking when my husband was a kid for instance—he and numerous others would run around the lawn party grounds and collect GLASS pop bottles which were sent somewhere and he earned like 5 cents. Not each: He would collect 24 bottles (in a wooden box holding 24 bottles) and earn 5 cents for each set of 24 bottles he turned in. One night, he recalls, he made $4—a heady amount for an 8-10 year old kid in the 60’s. Equivalent to maybe $30-40 today, for a kid (according to one Inflation Calculator).
Now, stuff does get recycled, but more can be done. We have a large local dump and five more places in our county where stuff can be tossed into large bins. Sometimes people say or think that such items “just get hauled anyway to the top of the mound at the county dump.” In the past I have asked various people working at the dump if that was true. The responses were not strong – like they weren’t sure, or didn’t want to say.
Recently I asked that question again to a worker who looked like she knew what she was doing, and working hard. I told her some people thought trash was sent out to sea or buried in the growing dirt mountain at the dump.
So I said, “Can you tell me where the recyclables go?” She had a ready answer: “Stuff goes to Dave’s Recycling.” I was impressed. I used to take my recyclable stuff directly to Dave’s Recycling but when the local dump was improved (years ago now) and added numerous bins where we could put recyclables, we began just taking our stuff directly to those bins at the dump.
I looked up Dave’s Recycling and its website said it takes stuff directly—and of course also processes what comes from the bins at the landfill which get carried to Dave’s. [For locals, Dave’s Recycling is open 8 a.m. – 4 p.m., closed Saturday and Sunday, and found at 130 Leray Circle in Harrisonburg.)
So that’s one convenient and efficient solution for paper to plastic to electronics to metals. Dave’s recycling accepts a wide range of material and can be found not far from the “Country Inn & Suites by Radisson” in Harrisonburg.
More info and comments here:
DAVE’S RECYCLING in Harrisonburg, VA 22801 – (540) 4…
The local Chamber of Commerce (at the link above) includes a listing of other recycling places in Harrisonburg, some where you get paid, especially when bringing scrap metal in.
Keep the Shenandoah Valley clean! And everywhere!
Simpler Times: The Way Back to Mayberry, Or maybe Singers Glen, Va.
We live near a small town (unincorporated) called Singers Glen. It has one store, a post office, an old building where a semitruck holds your old magazines and newspapers (and takes them for recycling, I think). The aging building offers free books and cans of food in a small cupboard, and also a free library of books you can borrow and return.
There are two small churches, a beautiful old but restored B&B place one can stay in for a night or a week, and a lovely cemetery overlooking the area. It’s place in history is that at one point a local named Joseph Funk published hymnals there—a shaped note hymnbook compiled and printed in the 19th century which became known as the Harmonia Sacra. Songsters love to have what they call a “Harmonia Sacra Sing” event. It is beautiful sacred music with books that some still use to this day.
Annual Harmonia Sacra Sings – The Harmonia Sacra Society
***
I’ve been reading a devotional book called “The Way Back to Mayberry: Lessons from a Simpler Time,” compiled by Joe Fann (published in 2001 by Broadman & Holman Publishers). Since “Andy of Mayberry” still plays on channels with old time TV shows and if you still enjoy them, the stories and “lessons” in this book have been fun, spiritual, and worthwhile: ultimately encouraging all of us to do better with the lives we have been given.
(While as a child I enjoyed the show, Andy had three wives over the years and later he had an ongoing affair for several years on the Andy Griffith show, with the teacher named “Helen Crump.” The affair was a pretty open secret among cast and crew, according to Wikipedia. She was never married.)
So neither Andy nor Mayberry was far from heavenly or perfect, but we can still learn from the show, and Fann’s (2001) “Lessons.” For instance, remember the time Opie met a new kid in town whose Dad apparently has lots of money, while Opie is lucky to get a 25 cent allowance each week. (I remember those meager days as a young girl, when a quarter actually bought a hamburger and soda at a McDonald’s. Right?) The new kid in town makes Opie jealous, but you can guess the eventual outcome—when the father realizes how spoiled his young son has become after the kid throws a mega-tantrum. And there is a turn around.
Thus I was not too surprised when I went into the grocery and beer store in our little “Mayberry-like” community and found a bright yellow sheet of paper reminding local citizens that people were driving too fast through the little burg, which could result in a child, pet, or elderly person getting hit when crossing the road to get mail or get out of their driveways. In fact, I had been driving on that road that very day and suddenly noticed a red blinking sign reminding ME to slow down to 25 mph. The title of the yellow sheet reminder says “Does the speed of the traffic through Singers Glen concern you?” The paper encouraged local citizens to help pay for two blinking “slow down” reminders (the state doesn’t supply them), and small towns must provide such. A blinking light, one for each end of town, would cost $7500 altogether. A local Ruritan Club is working to raise the money.
Then I went into the store to get what I had driven there for. On the top yellow sheet, someone else had scribbled, “No!” That citizen apparently didn’t find too fast of traffic a problem. I cringed, and we promptly sent off a check the next day, to help with the problem.
Like the yellow sheet reminds us: “You could make a life-changing difference for someone.”
***
Joey Fann has an older website that may be of interest to some: http://www.BarneyFife.com
His inspirational book was published by Broadman & Holman Publishers
20 years in the making – first novel
On a snowy, icy day this past February, I was ecstatic to have finished my first novel. I closed my computer and allowed myself to feel some great satisfaction. Some of you who have followed my writing know that I’ve also written ten nonfiction books over the years published by pretty big religious publishers like Word Books, Bethany House, and Zondervan. I had some good luck in those early years–1980s. Herald Press (Mennonite publisher) was also very generous in publishing several of my books. Publishing has changed hugely since then, I’ve found out.
I have also written small pieces of fiction over the years, and started various novels. My short stories were sometimes published in small magazines but basically, I wrote just because I enjoy writing.
But what really got me going was some 20-30 years ago when my oldest daughter—who also loves writing (and she’s probably a better writer than I am)—asked me, “Why don’t you write what people like to read—fiction!”
Well, a lot of people also like nonfiction but I decided to pursue her challenge in 2024, and resumed writing in earnest.
It is now a gorgeous day in September, 2025, and I am both relieved but also a bit nostalgic that I don’t have a book project to complete or go over. The tentative title, unless you talk me out of it, is “A Place in the Fold.” It is a faith-related book.
The thing I discovered was that writing fiction was fun! I could make things up as I went: conversations, work in memories from my own growing up years, and just plain enjoyment. I had written lots of articles, scripts, and done research for books that were nonfiction, but this was different. (I did have to be more careful and do some research when it came to writing about medical stuff and doctors and so on. But with our age group, we have friends and relatives where I hear plenty of doctor-related conversations I could work into the book, not a big part of the book).
If you are wondering what it’s about, here’s a quick peek at the back cover copy:
“Who would drive away from a beloved spouse the day before Christmas? Monica Sue Herald did, and untold drama followed. Her husband Timothy, is a well-liked pastor but she cringes every time he uses her for a personal story when preaching. His father is also a pastor several hours away, but they don’t always get along like they should. And what is the secret that Monica’s mother holds in her heart for nearly 30 years, and why?
The novel is placed in the 1990s, before the days of almost everyone having cell phones, which might have changed the outcome of this tale. This book will induce tears of sadness and also joy for many, and also help couples with their precious and loving relationships.”
Does this sound interesting to you?
Most of us old married folks (and younger ones too) deal with marital squabbles and if we’re lucky, we keep going, keep loving, keep hanging on to our mates.
Later on, I will let you know where and when the book is available—I hope in time for Christmas!
Will there ever be another one? Time will tell. It just feels good to have reached this goal. And to have taken on my daughter’s challenge.
Have you tried something new you never did before?
What was your outcome?
Enjoyable or not?
Thanks for reading this and commenting if you feel like it!
The Downside of our Trip: 37 Hours on the Train
I’ve written about the things we enjoyed on our trip to Montana, which we had looked forward to for over a year. My husband especially was looking forward to the long train ride from South Bend, Indiana to Chicago and on to Glacier Park—through Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, and finally Montana. I had never been to North Dakota, and Montana was new for him.
But I heard my husband mumble “never again” after the 30-hour train trip that turned into 37 hours. We both tried to sleep in our seats (which were roomy and fairly new), but still it was hard sleeping sitting up, or laying heads on each other.
That night – after many delays and stops (there was a small tornado, leaving tree limbs on the tracks that workers had to remove, plus frequent waits for freight cars to pass), we were delighted when a head honcho of Amtrak apparently told our train personnel to offer all passengers in the coach cars two free pieces of pizza (sleeping car passengers get free meals anyway, or rather, it’s included in their overall cost). After all the waiting, the pizza was a sweet and appreciated surprise—and it was even a good and somewhat warm pizza!
Eventually, instead of arriving at our destination at the hour of 8 p.m., we got to our lodge in Montana about 3 a.m. Not much fun.
The bedrooms in the huge and ancient Lodge (circa 1913) were large enough—except for the bathrooms, where I had to hold the shower curtain for my husband to keep it and the water from billowing out. The sink was as tiny as the toy sink we have in our kids’ and grandkids’ playhouse.
Finally towards evening, we secured two tables for all of eight of us traveling together in the Observation car, and played our family’s silly but fun dice game, “Greedy.” We had some great laughs.
The worst rattling moments though on the final leg home was when we had to sit in the very first seats at the head of the train from Chicago to South Bend, on top of what Stuart says is the truck/boogie. It jiggled us enough to rock us off balance (certainly) and even in the seat, it was rough. The engineers were in a hurry too, sometimes going what felt like 80-85 mph.
You just have to expect unpleasantries when travelling anywhere, right?
We are so grateful, though, for this trip and the adventures we enjoyed, some great food and fun, especially our trip to the “Going to the Sun” road. As they say, trips like this make great memories, especially when travelling with family members you don’t see that often. And memorable happenings. And, we eventually caught up with our loss of sleep!
Have you had a trip experience to share?
I’d love to hear from what you like or don’t like!
Blog
Two Bird Stories
We have a lovely long porch on the front of our house, which in summer is graced by seven pots hung there with metal S-curve hangars, like you buy at a hardware store. I usually have four fern pots and three flower pots there. “Grace” may be a strong word for our simple porch but I like it, and the flowers and ferns.
Of course they need watering, which is a bit of a chore, but very doable, and this summer we’ve had plenty of rain so sometimes I didn’t even need to water them with a breeze from the west streaming rain our way.
However, some adult birds also think the pots are just lovely to plant their eggs in the middle, and birth their babies. I love babies—and birds as much as anybody BUT when the baby birds are born they present a problem. Of course. How do I water my plants when little birdlings are growing?
Well, not much. So I pretty much let them go, especially if a bird chooses one of the ferns to lay eggs. The ferns survive pretty well without much, especially if I just put a little water along the edges of the pot, not the middle where the babies grow.
This summer a lovely serene dove made her home in one fern pot. I saw her sitting there, day after day, minding her little ones. I groaned a little about not being able to water it, but the fern seemed to flourish anyway.
I was out on the porch stringing beans one morning when I decided to try getting a picture of the mother bird. I sneaked up, but of course the bird had a side eye, and when I got too close for her comfort, she steamed out of the pot. Irate, of course. I couldn’t blame her. Nosey me, who had to get a picture.
She returned later, thankfully, but fledging day came shortly. I noticed one little bird out on the edge of our pasture, struggling in the grass as she practiced flying a bit. Our dog saw it roughly at the same time, and before I could yell “stop” she had the poor birdie in her mouth, and began savoring the taste.
Oh I was mad at myself, the dog, and my curiosity that had led me to take the pictures. I’m not sure what happened to the other baby birds as they tried their wings, I hope one or more made it.
Such is life—whether you are a bird or a human being. We make mistakes, and someone or something loses. Dies. I was sad and vowed not to get too close to bird nests in the future. That was a needless loss. Dumb Mel.
***
A week or two later, we saw a hummingbird flitting himself around the ceiling since we often keep the garage door open in summer. Oh he was a strong one, and furiously flew around the garage for hours. At least 5 hours, that we witnessed. I tried seeking information online and was told to try chasing it gently with a broom to encourage it to leave. Which I did. He didn’t leave. I was disheartened. Would we have another dead bird—especially a lovely hummingbird on our hands? I fussed at my husband to do something, and finally he decided to tie up our glass bird feeder on a strong string on the garage door. It was worth a try. I praised him for trying, not sure it would do any good. A couple hours went by.
After supper, we went out in the garage and couldn’t see the hummingbird anywhere. Not fallen, or hiding. Had it survived? We took down the bird feeder and put in back on the deck where we usually kept it.
By Sunday morning we were convinced we were seeing the hummingbird back on the feeder. He had a tan coat rather than the bright blue or even reddish colors of the other birds who frequented it. At least we think that he survived. We kept the dog out of the garage, and the cat, pretty much.
Happily. We think.
***
What do you think?
What bird – or other animal or life lessons have you learned?
Blog Post
Prairie Dogs, Up!
Okay, I’ve never been a prairie dog but I learned to be one on our trip to Glacier National Park earlier in August. Among many other surprises.
At the quite ancient Lodge where we stayed in Montana, we first met Steven who introduced himself to all of us on his bus/truck that held 15 passengers, as a “nice guy.” Then he, fairly sternly, poured out some things he didn’t want us to do (in order to stay safe on our 8-hour expedition around Glacier Park). Our climax would be driving to the “Going to the Sun Road.”
As we took off, he told us a little about himself and where he grew up (in the Montana area, near the large Blackfeet Tribe reservation, where he associated with friends and even family members of the tribe). He shared his love for nature, wild animals, the beauty of the area, the magnificent trees, rivers, lakes and oh yes, MOUNTAINS that did seem to reach to the sun or even heaven. Do you catch the drift that Steven was a great guide, full of fun and knowledge and the geology of the area?
He also added there would be opportunities to get out, walk around, examine things closer up in short stops. He mentioned he would also stop occasionally to let us stand up with our heads out the roof so we could take photos (of course), with a line he called “Prairie Dogs, Up!” – a phase that would allow us to stand up. And we would stop and have lunch at a choice of several delicious mountainy cabin type restaurants.
Our transportation was in an old Ford red truck first made in the 1930s. The trucks were later refurbished for relatively modern day transportation around huge Glacier National Park (which reaches close to Canada.) The bus in itself was a pretty cool thing to be in, in terms of its noteworthy history.
My husband often dozes off during the day while watching TV or YouTube, but, unlike some of the other men (and women, I might add) who took some snoozes in the 8 hours we traveled together, Stuart did not doze off once. This guide was that good! My only regret on that score is that we didn’t have a recording that could help us remember some of what we heard and learned. He responded well to our questions, comments and things we pointed out on the journey, like the little brown bear we spotted on a distant cliff.
And no, I don’t think we saw any for real prairie dogs.
***
Your thoughts? Trips? Memories?
Next time, I share the “downs” of this trip. 😦
[By the way, I’m still having terrible problems with Word Press, see the bottom photo where some AI thing gave a caption which I did not write, and cannot fix, nor did I want that photo so big. Oh well.]
Blog post
Oh My! What an Adventure
Part 1 – Background
My two older sisters, Nancy (nurse), Linda (nicknamed Pert), plus my baby brother Terry [we loved it so much when a baby brother was born!] all got together and with Pert’s great planning and travel expertise, got us on an Amtrak train in South Bend, Ind. (We grew up not far from there in Middlebury, Ind., but now live in four different states: Virginia, North Carolina, Florida and Indiana).
It was the first time us four siblings and spouses planned a trip together without any children. I must add that in 1964, our farmer dad and mom who loved travelling, planned a wonderful 6-week western trip in a very small travel trailer for our family of six. (Dad would send some hogs to market to pay for the long trip. He rented the trailer for $2 a day!) We hit many National Parks and in later years Dad and Mom planned and paid some expenses for family trips every other summer to gather in places like lovely Destin Beach in north Florida, cabins in West Virginia, Rocky Mountain, Colorado, and several times near Cherokee, North Carolina.
So, fancy cowboy hats adorning the women (compliments of sister-in-law Debbe who shared leftover hats from their granddaughter’s recent wedding), with excitement we boarded Amtrak and landed in Chicago’s huge Union Station in time for lunch (most of us munching on Chic-Fil-A goodies). From there we traveled 37 or so hours all the way to Glacier Park in western Montana, (about 30 miles near the Canadian border). Our train adventure was supposed to be 30 hours but storms and leftover debris on tracks etc. caused many stoppages, including waiting for commercial rail cars carrying the goods that serve all of us throughout the year (which have first rights to tracks, Amtrak is secondary).
History: we siblings all remember Dad telling many stories of his assignments and challenge during World War 2 at Glacier Park, sawing lumber, cleaning up grounds, trying out for smoke jumping (he was not selected), fishing, spotting bear, bighorn and goats. He, having quit school after 8th grade (like many other farm boys of the time) also learned from his colleagues and visiting speakers and leaders at the camp, all serving as conscientious objectors. (Fittingly, the northern edge of the park was founded as the International Peace Park in 1932 by the Canadian Parliament and U.S. President Roosevelt’s proclamation.)
While the train travel (adventure) was pretty miserable at first, when we finally snatched two sets of tables the next evening for all eight of us in the “observation car” (with open seating) to play the “Greedy” dice game we all had played umpteen times at various family get togethers, the fun and laughter began. Mom and Dad used to play it with all of us and I for one had a laugh I had not experienced in many months, if not years (I couldn’t even talk, it had me bent over on the table!). We also remembered Mom’s laugh and Dad’s smiles when dicing without worrying about cards, winning, or life.
More stuff on my next post about the trip. Hang on for the ride.
***
Do you like traveling? Or not?
Our financial advisor always says travel while you can. What advice do you give?
(P.S. Sorry for the long delay on posts, I was having computer problems …)
I’ve entered a new phase of life.
I think I’m ok.
Others think I’m not as sharp as I once was.
And that’s frustrating.
I’m going to keep trying, of course. I’m going to keep writing. I can do better when I’m writing than when I’m thinking.
Last night I had one of the most horrible dreams I’ve had for a long while. I think it was probably related to this, maybe. We’ve been having some stress in terms of helping grandsons while their parents work—in the summertime, when they are not quite old enough to take care of themselves at home. I don’t know exactly that I dreamed about, but when I woke up at 2 and realized I had been dreaming wildly and in frustration, I think some of my dream was connected to this stuff.
Of course the kids can’t drive. And they need to stay busy and involved in camps and swimming and playing games. They bicker, they shout, they love each other, but that’s life, eh?
And day after day of temps in the 80s and 90s and higher, and rain are not helping any of this. What happened to lovely days in the 75 degree range??
But we have beautiful gorgeous countryside and green green corn growing in the fields. It is amazing. I love the beauty. I have not seen so much green corn in Virginia, in this part of the U.S. that I remember. It is stunning. And TALL! I would love to share a photo of this green green Virginia but that will have to wait until I figure something else out!
Also, my laptop was dropped and broken. Someone else did it but that happens. I’m using my husband’s laptop and this is working but there has been a learning curve for me. Trying to get back to my Word Press blog right here is like finding myself again!!
****
Is this safe to share? Do you know anyone going through this phase of life? I know some of my friends will be kind of glad to find this blog again. I was thrilled when a new reader joined the Finding Harmony Blog today!
I’m happy, a little worried, but I’m going to keep plowing on.
Let me know what you’re experiencing and how you cope!
findingharmonyblog 