August ... not my best month

I'm a slow learner.  I'm also rather stubborn and tend to think I can do things all by myself.  That's a bad combination.  Several months ago, an opportunity came up that I thought was perfect for me (it wasn't).  I thought it would be the answer to prayer (it wasn't).  I thought it was clearly what God intended for me (it wasn't).  I prayed about it, in that know-it-all way that I have:  God, this is what I want, this is how I want to You make it happen, and if You could do that in the next two weeks or so, that would be great.

I was 100% confident that it was going to happen, and in the time frame I decreed, and in the way I determined.  I told my husband, with 100% assurance, that it was a done-deal.

It wasn't.

I was genuinely shocked when things didn't work out as I had anticipated.  I mean, I *planned* on it. I told my husband.  I mentally had congratulated myself on handling things so very well.  I said (to my husband) all the right things:  "Well, God knows this wasn't what His plans for me are, and we have to trust that He has something better around the corner", but deep down, I don't think I fully believed that.  I really didn't.  I was ticked.  I wanted this and I was miffed that it didn't happen.

I sulked.  I do that well.  My prayer life dissolved into rote and routine, with not much sincerity behind what I was saying.  Even as I watched my "ideal" solution spiral out of control and I came to realize that I truly dodged a bullet, I still sulked.  (Mature of me, right?)  I sulked, because if God really had something better for me, where WAS it?  I was tapping my foot, impatiently, waiting for Him to show me what He had in mind.

Then August came.  August has historically been a bad month for us, financially.  Not only are there back to school expenses -- college tuition these days! -- but we have a couple of family birthdays; and for the past too numerous to count years, August has meant that a major appliance will die, or the car will require expensive repairs.  By the time my birthday rolled around in the waning days of August, we were usually emotionally and financially spent.  My birthday gift for years has been a new transmission, or a new air conditioner, or a new stove.  This year was going to be different!!  It is my 50th birthday, and we were going to spend a long weekend celebrating.  I've been planning it for months.

Then August happened.  It's less than a week into August, and we've already had two significant financial hits.  I'm looking at our "Sandra's Birthday Bash" budget and thinking it would be fiscally irresponsible of us to NOT use that money for the more urgent needs.

So I sulked.  I do that well.  It's not productive, and it's not mature but it's what I know to do, and I do it well.

This morning, in my prayer time (which is more "Sandra sulks and whines and tells God what's wrong with her life, and He stays silent and lets her rant and rave") I was fussing at God -- where's my "something better just around the corner?"  Where is my "when we get to this phase in our life, things will be easier" break?  Where is my "but I deserve / want / desire (fill in the blank)" that I somehow feel entitled to?

I opened my Bible, and it opened to Isaiah.  My eye fell to Isaiah 55:8

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.

Really, God?  You couldn't have thrown out a few of those prosperity doctrines that are so popular these days among "feel good" preachers, who tell their flocks just what they want to hear?  

Then I opened a daily devotional in my email.

It was on Isaiah 55:8.

I was not amused.  

I did NOT want God to tell me to chill out, relax and trust in Him, that He had this all in control.  I wanted to know exactly HOW (and when) He was going to work it out, and if He was going to be silent on the details, then I wanted Him to reassure me that the piddly plans I had in my mind were, indeed, the right plans.

No.

He just kept reminding me that His ways aren't my ways, and His plans aren't my plans.

"Trust and obey; trust and obey ..."

OK, God, I'm listening.  I hear you.

(UPDATE IN THE INTEREST OF FULL DISCLOSURE)

I wrote this on Monday.  I thought, "I'll wait a few days to publish, then I'll have an *awesome* ending, of  "And then BOOM, God did this-and-that and voila!"

(Yeah, me again, telling God how to work and what to do, and when to do it).

Not only did that NOT happen, we had another financial hit last night which leaves Sandra's Birthday Bash Budget down to, if we're lucky and find a BOGO coupon, dinner at Olive Garden.

I'm waiting for Him to act, I'm expecting Him to move, I'm anticipating Him working everything out, but I'm also horrible about trusting and being secure and calm.  I want Him to answer me, TODAY RIGHT NOW and let me know what next month is going to bring.  What is next year going to look like?  What / when / how are events going to unfold?

Silence.

Nothing.

Except for  Isaiah 55:8.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.

Fairness, Equity ... and eBay

My husband gets a lot of sympathy (from others LOL) for putting up with my Pooh addiction. What all of his fan club supporters don't realize is he, too, has ... interests.  He is a self-professed Constitutional scholar and he has a fascination with all things Presidential and Constitutional.

Yes, I have a Pooh mug (or two), but guess what HE has?

 

And I may have Pooh shirts (and slippers, and bags, and wallets ...) but he isn't innocent. He has a shirt, a tie. 

Yes, I have a Pooh curio cabinet, but guess what's on one of the shelves

And my Pooh artwork is offset by his Presidential artwork.

Further, his Presidential Pez Dispenser collection 

actually surpasses my Pooh Pez collection.

(Can we pause for a moment and just reflect upon the fact that there is, indeed, a Presidential Pez collection, and that we actually own all the ones released to date?)

And I have a Pooh book or two, but ...

(And this is but a small representation of the Presidential / Founding Fathers books he has). 

He also has a framed copy of the Constitution on the wall of his study, 

as well as a Pocket Constitution he carries with him. I'd take a picture of it, but he's got it with him, in his briefcase, because you never know when you'll need to whip out the Constitution.  

Of course, he has the Pocket Constitution app on his phone ... and his homepage on his iPad? SCOTUS Blog. And the background on his phone? The Constitution.

And the Beanie Babies ...

So, for everyone who thinks, "Oh, poor Larry ...", it's not as inequitable as you might think.

Anyway, as part of his Bucket List, we are going to tour all the Presidential Libraries / Museums. We have a Presidential Passport which we dutifully get stamped at each location, but that's not enough of a souvenir.

We also get a Presidential Bobblehead from each location we visit.

(And again, can we pause for a moment and just reflect upon the fact that there are, indeed, Presidential Bobbleheads?)

So far, we have Bush 41

Bush 43

Eisenhower

and Truman

He has also visited Carter's library, but that was a) without me and b) before he knew about Presidential Bobbleheads, so we will have to go back, together, and get Mr Carter's Bobblehead.

Last weekend, we went to LBJ's library / museum. We stopped in the gift shop but (horrors!) they didn't have any LBJ Bobbleheads. They told us the manufacturer didn't produce an LBJ Bobblehead. I got home and emailed the manufacturer, only to be told:

At this time, regrettably, we do not have an LBJ bobblehead.  He is probably going to be next on the list for production.  However, that will not happen in 2014.  Possibly next year.  I will keep your message on file in my LBJ folder, and will follow back up with you once we have a prototype available for this item.  

(She has an LBJ folder??)

Anyway, I wasn't going to let that stop my Bobblehead quest -- my husband wants an LBJ Bobblehead, and an LBJ Bobblehead he'll have.

I went on eBay. I have never in my life gone on eBay. I signed up, searched for LBJ Bobblehead and, surprisingly, found one!  It's vintage (from 1964 -- same year I was born -- so now I'm vintage??) and was intended to be mounted on a dashboard. 

I placed a bid.

Seller rejected my bid and blocked me. 

Seriously??  My first time EVER on eBay and I've committed such a faux-pas that my bid was rejected and I was blocked??

I emailed the seller who told me he didn't accept bids from new eBay bidders as they "never" follow through with payment. 

My initial instinct was to tell him where to go and how to get there, but -- surprisingly LOL -- there weren't a lot of other LBJ Bobbleheads on which I could bid.

I swallowed my pride, assured Paranoid Seller that, yes I am new to eBay but I am a legitimate bidder and I'd welcome the opportunity to bid.

He unblocked me, I re-bid ... and I won!  I immediately paid, and he sent me a nice note of apology.

He shipped the 1964 Vintage Car-Mounted LBJ Bobblehead and it arrived today.

My Beloved is thrilled, the collection is intact, plans are being made for our next Presidential trip, and I'm no longer an eBay virgin.

And guess what?  eBay has a TON of Pooh stuff. 

I'd call this a win-win.  

 

It's #TBT

  I have precious few tangible things from my childhood. I (left / was kicked out, it depends on who you talk to) of my parents house when I was a teenager and I left with a suitcase of clothes and a very small box of personal belongings. About 20 years later, my parents gave my brother an envelope that had a half-dozen childhood pictures of me and three elementary school report cards. They told him to send it to me, that they didn't want them. That is the extent of the physical things I have from the first 18 years of my life. I have nothing that has been passed down, generation to generation, nor do I have any pictures of me before age 5. I have my kindergarten class photo, I have some horrid middle school pictures and, thanks to my high school yearbook that I took with me when I left, I have my graduation picture. That's it ... well, and three mediocre report cards that all say basically the same thing: Sandra is a delightful child, very smart, but is very social and tends to talk too much. (Imagine that! LOL)

  Every so often, something will happen that makes me sadly aware of what I don't have. Today was one of those days. This is Thursday, which means all over Facebook, people are posting pictures with the #TBT hashtag. I have participated in ThrowBackThursday before: I've been married 28 years, so any of our newlywed pictures, or any pictures of my babies as ... well, as babies 😊 ... would qualify. But today, I saw a picture of a friend of mine as an infant, in the loving arms of her mother as her father gazed adoringly at them. And from out of nowhere, the pain and the hurt and the rejection that I thought I had buried (or dealt with, or come to accept) came rushing up. I am jealous. I'm jealous of people who have photos of themselves as children. I'm jealous of those 1970's era family vacation pictures. I'm jealous of the people who have photo albums of themselves that go back thru time.

  Someone asked me recently if my baby pictures looked like my daughter as a baby -- and I don't know. I've not seen a baby picture of myself. I can tell you what I looked like when I was 5, but no idea what I looked like when I was a newborn, or a toddler, or a preschooler.

  It's a very odd, disconnected feeling, to feel like your life just "began" when you were in your 20's and that the first 18 years can, effectively, be erased from existence.

  I think I may have gone a touch overboard where my own children are concerned. I have gotten very interested in genealogy, and I think part of it is an attempt to keep them connected to their past, to their roots, to where they've come from. I also have made sure that there are physical, tangible things that WILL be passed down to them. Perhaps not from my side of the family, but from their paternal line. I document EVERY event with pictures, I have framed pictures of the family all through the house. I have boxes in my closet that have their childhood memorabilia catalogued and stored. I have keepsakes that have been given to them from their great-grandparents (obviously, on their dad's side) and I have written a detailed family history so that they, and God willing, future generations, will know their story.

  I want my children, and my anticipated (and loved and prayed for) grandchildren and great-grandchildren to always know they have a past as well as a future. They were loved before they were even conceived and they are being prayed for, even now, today. They are wanted and cherished and desired.

  I don't know if a bedraggled stuffed cat and a jar of 60 year old marbles and a box of handwritten recipes will do that, but I'm going to do my darnedest to try to convey that.

  I can't change my past. I can't change what was done to me, nor can I go back and undo the first 18 years of my life. But I can learn from that, and hopefully grow, and I can try to not make the same mistakes in future generations. The buck stops HERE. And please, those of you who do have #TBT pictures and memories, cherish them. Realize that, for some of us, those pictures of toddler-you and your newborn-sibling are the most beautiful things imaginable. I truly mean that. Those things -- both the tangible pictures and the keepsakes, as well as the intangible memories and laughter, are precious gifts not everyone is blessed with.

  My own children, I pray, will never know that feeling of disconnect that still haunts me. I want them to know every bit of their history. I have told (and re-told, and re-re-told) them the same stories so many times that I'm certain they NEVER want to hear some of those stories again. But I'll continue to tell them. I'll continue to try to instill a sense of permanence in their lives. I'll never stop making sure they have a a feeling of bedrock stability. I never want them to feel unanchored or isolated or adrift.

  And I pledge to be the same nuisance and irritation to any future generations God blesses me with knowing.

  Consider yourself warned, future generations. I have boxes and boxes of memories -- and they are all coming your way. 😊

  

  

Appliance Graveyard

In our breakfast room, we have a hutch. The bottom of that hutch is a storage area I like to call the Appliance Graveyard. It is the final home and eternal resting place of all the kitchen gadgets I just had to have, but never use. Some of them are more trouble than they're worth, some just don't perform as advertised and some are just junk. I've got quite an eclectic collection: there is the Seal-A-Meal that was going to revolutionize my freezer; there is the George Foreman Grill that I've never been able to properly clean and which seems to have only two settings, raw or hockey puck; there is the Ninja which was supposed to make juicing fun and exciting; there is a Salad Shooter which has too many pieces and is a major pain to clean; there is a mandoline which, unless I want to slice 10 pounds of potatoes, is way more complicated than getting out a knife and a chopping board; there is a huge electric griddle which takes up too much counter space, won't fit in the dishwasher and heats unevenly; there is the fondue set which was supposed to provide hours of gaiety for dinner guests, but just was a fire hazard; and we can't forget the small electric ice cream maker that claims to make one dish of homemade ice cream in minutes, except that the motor would seize up and you'd be left with a bowl of runny custard ... you get the gist.

You'd think I'd stop buying appliances and gadgets, and for the most part, I have -- but every so often, something catches my eye, and ... well, I can't help myself.

The other day, I was in WalMart, buying something responsible and mature (like Metamucil and raw spinach ... I wasn't scouring the aisles for half-price Easter candy! I wasn't, and you can't prove otherwise!) when something jumped into my line of vision. It was a new appliance that I didn't have, but oh! I needed it, badly!!

A breakfast sandwich maker!! I could make Egg McMuffins at home, in only five minutes!! I picked it up, put it in my cart, put it back on the shelf, picked it up again ... took a picture of it and texted it to my husband (because who, when they're at work doesn't want to be interrupted by a text message about a breakfast sandwich maker??) and then put it back and walked away.

No room in the Appliance Graveyard for another resident.

My husband went to WalMart today to buy a bucket. He came home with a plastic car-washing bucket -- and a breakfast sandwich maker.

So, tomorrow, I'll either be stuffing my face with homemade, delicious Egg McMuffins ... or I'll be clearing space in the hutch for the newest addition to the Appliance Graveyard.

I hope it works. I like the idea of breakfast in 5 minutes, but my past history with "change your life" appliances and gadgets isn't the best.

I am, however, touched by how sweet my honey is, that he knew I wanted it -- and he knew the odds are good that it'll end up in the hutch, nestled against the Texas shaped hamburger press that insists on cutting off the Panhandle, but he bought it anyway.

That's love.

Maybe (probably not, but MAYBE) I'll even get up at 4:00 a.m. to fix him a delicious and nutritious homemade breakfast sandwich. Ok, I won't ... but when I get up, I'll fix MYSELF one, and I'll think of him and how wonderful he is.

And if anyone wants to come shop in my Appliance Graveyard, drop me a line. I can use the extra space in the hutch.

The Ghost of the Couch

At one time, I was pretty technologically savvy. I mastered AOL and dial-up modems and flip cell phones.  I can remember the time, however, when I realized I was falling out of step.  A friend of mine got a digital camera one Christmas (this was when digital cameras were cutting edge technology).  He was showing it off, and was telling me how it can take hundreds of pictures on one memory card.  I was just getting ready to ask him about film when he laughed and said, "And can you believe, there is always that one idiot who asks, 'But what about the film?'" That was the time when I realized technology was moving faster than I was.

I think I'm doing ok, I have an iPad and an iPhone and I use both, quite well.  I email and text, and I Facebook and Pinterest like mad.  I kick butt at Candy Crush and I save several, simultaneous Words With Friends games going on.  I also have a Twitter account and an Instagram, but I use those mainly to follow other people.  I understand how to use hashtags and I know how to make a meme.  I've been seeing on Facebook and Instagram several acronyms that I've finally figured out:  #MCM (Man Crush Monday), #WCW (Woman Crush Wednesday), #TBT (Throw Back Thursday).  I don't think I have a MCM or a WCW, but I sure do love TBT.  I don't usually post TBT pictures, but I love to see other people's memories and I love nothing more than going thru my own old pictures and strolling down memory lane.

I was looking through some old pictures the other day (because it was, after all, #TBT, and I have to pretend I'm still relevant LOL) and I was struck by two thoughts:  some things have changed so much, yet some things haven't changed a single bit. I found a picture of my kids -- it was summer and I'd guess he was 3 which would make her about 1-1/2.  I look at that picture of them in all their precious innocence and sweetness and it almost takes my breath away.  I know intellectually that picture is almost 20 years old, yet it honestly feels like it was just last week.  I love the adults my children have become and I am so proud of them I almost can't stand it, but part of me longs to return to those precious toddler days, just for one more summer afternoon.  

Then I started looking at the other things in the photo:  his Mario brothers shirt, her sippy cup, the pacifier that I thought she'd take to college ... and that couch.

That couch.  I got a sick feeling in my stomach.  That hideous blue couch.  I hated that couch.  It was given to us by someone who knew we needed one, and while I was grateful, I hated that couch.  It was ugly, it was uncomfortable and it smelled funny.  We were not in a place, financially, to buy a new couch and it was a blessing that we were given that couch at all -- prior to that we were sitting on lawn chairs in our living room -- but every time I saw that couch, I didn't feel gratitude or thankfulness.  I felt embarrassed and a little ashamed.  I hated that we had an ugly, uncomfortable, smelly hand-me-down couch and I just couldn't get past that. I wouldn't invite people over because I didn't want them to see the couch, much less have to sit upon (and smell) it.  I told myself that when we got new living room furniture, I'd entertain more.  I'd become gracious and hospitable.  I'd be confident and self-assured.  Everything would be perfect, once I got rid of that couch.

We did, eventually, get rid of that couch.  We bought all new living room furniture -- brand new, matching furniture that looked good, smelled good and was comfortable and inviting. But I realized, I missed out on so much, waiting for the "good" living room.  I missed out on having people over, I missed out on entertaining, I missed out on peace and tranquility. Every time I walked into my living room, I didn't see my precious babies -- I didn't see a room filled with family and friends and love -- I didn't feel joy and contentment and peace. I felt shame and embarrassment. Over a couch. Please. How ridiculous is that?  

But guess what?  I'm still doing that.  Yeah, I have a nicer couch now, but somehow I didn't morph into Lady Gracious, Queen of Hospitality.  I still hesitate to invite people over because what if my house isn't as nice as theirs?  What if I bring them a meal and they don't like what I cook?  What if I invite someone over for dinner and I don't have enough place settings that match?  I know someone without a car, but I hesitate to give them a ride because my car is old and the a/c is tempermental.  I am still, 20 years after the Couch From Hell went to the dump, living with the ghost of that couch.  I'm still waiting for (whatever) ... once we get a new couch, I'll entertain.  Once I get a new car, I'll drive people.  Once I get new dishes and glassware, I'll invite people over for dinner.  Once I feel more confident, I'll ... (fill in the appropriate blank).  

It was never that couch.  Yeah, that couch was pretty awful, but I think we all have an awful couch somewhere in our past.  

Things change:  technology, time, kids, couches. 

20 years later, I know how digital cameras work, I know how to use my iPhone and iPad, and I'm comfortable with #TBT. 

Maybe it's time to exorcize the ghost of the Couch From Hell.  

Extreme Couponing

My mother in law and I went to an a Extreme Couponing Workshop yesterday. That was neat, doing something with just her. She and I don't spend a lot of time together, just the two of us, so I was delighted we got to do something, just us.  I saw an ad for the class about a month ago, and she said she wanted to start couponing so we decided to go together.  It was hosted by two ladies who had been on Extreme Couponing, so we figured we might learn how to buy $800 worth of groceries for $5.00.

The seminar was held in the conference room of a local hotel.  We got there 30 minutes before it started ... and couldn't find a parking spot.  Anywhere.  We drove around the lot twice -- no open spots.  We ended up parking next door, at the hospital, and walking over.  When we got to the conference room, it was 85% full -- and this was still 15, 20 minutes before it started!  We found two seats together, and watched as a steady stream of people kept pouring into the room.  The hosts called for more chairs to be brought in -- and the facilities maintenance guy had to make three trips to bring in enough chairs!  People kept coming in (I'd *love* to know where they parked!!) even after the seminar started. 

I had no idea Extreme Couponing was such a popular topic. The crowd was a diverse group -- mainly female, but there were all ages, all races, all manners and styles of dress, all manners and styles of behaviors. We sat next to a lady who thought she was in church service:  she gave a constant verbal commentary going. The host would hold up a jar of peanut butter and would say, "Now, this is a staple in most houses ..." and from next to me, I'd hear, "Yes!  Peanut butter!  Uh-huh!"  then if the host mentioned asking for a rain check on a sold out item, I'd hear, "Oh yes!  Gotta get them rain checks!"  When the host said how she wasn't brand loyal, and if you opened her closet, you'd find Crest and Colgate and Aim, I'd hear, "Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about, uh-huh, sure is!"  Her chatter continued the entire seminar. I have to give the host credit for not being distracted, for I know I sure was. 

I wanted secrets, insights, plans. I wanted to know how I could cut my grocery bill in half and simultaneously have a six-month reserve of cereal and toilet paper in my garage. I was ready to learn, I was ready to embrace this couponing lifestyle.  The ad had mentioned door prizes and drawings, so when the host said she was going to start the seminar by drawing a name, I got excited!  The prize?  A $10 gift card to the grocery store. Eh.  But I figured it was better to have lots of low-value prizes rather than a few high-value ones. She drew one name, then another ... and that was it. That was the door prizes / drawings?  Two $10 gift cards?  Still -- I wasn't there for the door prizes, I was there for the knowledge. 

I realize those trips featured on TV aren't typical, our host said that her trip featured on the show ($800 worth of groceries for less than $25) took her three weeks to plan and took over seven hours in the store!  Yeah, no.  But she also said that cutting your budget by 50% wasn't unusual.  When she began couponing, she spent about $1,000 a month.  Now she's spending $300 a month.  That $300 is for things you don't typically find coupons for:  fresh meat, fresh veggies, etc.  I thought, "Yes!  That's what I want ... teach me, Oh Wise One!"

She was a very good speaker, very comfortable, very humorous, could tell a story and could get a laugh -- but we were halfway thru the seminar and I still hadn't learned anything practical.  She was regaling us with tales of making her husband play, "Guess how much this cost me?" and telling us how couponing changed her life, but there was precious little actual information presented.

Still, we waited ... maybe they would give out some more gift cards.  They were only $10 cards, and they'd only given away two, and the flyer mentioned (in all caps, and with excessive exclamation points) there would be gift cards and door prizes, so surely they were going to give away lots of these $10 gift cards, right?

Finally, host says, "I'm going to give you the one most important secret to successful couponing."  Boy, my ears perked up and I sat forward.  Just then, the lady sitting on the other side of my mother in law got a phone call.  Her ring tone was a rooster crowing.  She apparently decided to just ignore it, so we all were serenaded by rooster crows.  Unlike Chatty Church Lady, the host was unable to ignore this, so we all paused while she decided to root around in her suitcase-sized purse, looking for her cell phone.  Once the phone call went to voice mail, the host resumed.  Her big, life-changing secret?

You need a lot of coupons.  She recommends a minimum of five Sunday papers each week, to start with.  Oh, and as a convenience to us, the Houston Chronicle had a special "right now, only in this room, only this moment" couponers rate where we could get five Sunday papers delivered to our house for only $100.00.  She spent a LOT of time on the various inserts in the paper, and how wonderful they were, and how one insert might have $1,000 worth of coupons and how in just one Sunday we could make back our subscription costs, etc.

That was it.  Buy 5 newspapers each week.  She also showed us a website where someone (I'm still not sure who this "someone" is) would compile a list of the items on sale at four Houston stores and match them to the in-paper coupons.  Except that the four stores were two wildly overpriced grocery stores and two drug stores.  That was it.  No HEB, no WalMart.  I do almost all of my shopping at HEB or WalMart, so this website didn't get my heart fluttering. 

She then launched into another sales pitch for the "right now, this instant, only available this second" subscription special while giving us horror stories of people who DIDN'T subscribe and had to dumpster dive for inserts, or who had to buy the papers at the store and didn't get the inserts or ... or ... or ...

I looked around and was stunned at how many people were filling out the order form and were whipping out their check books.  My mother in law and I were certainly in the minority by not lining up, checkbook in hand, order form filled out.

I wasn't going to be pressured into subscribing to $100 worth of newspapers, I figured if this was something I wanted to persue, I'd ask my friends if they'd save me their inserts. Or I'd try it with the one set of inserts I already get and see if it works. 

My mother in law agreed with me, we both thought the seminar was weak on actual information and was heavy on sales pitch.

This morning, I logged on to the website they assured me would make this couponing a piece of cake ... "Just pick your store (unless it's HEB or WalMart, because even though most people shop at those two stores, our website only includes two overpriced grocery stores and two drug stores), click on Start and then highlight the sale items you want.  Print your list, and start saving!" 

The website didn't work.  I clicked on Randalls, clicked start, and was told no matches were found.  Same for Kroger and the two drug stores.

Yeah, that was useful.  

And I didn't even get a $10 gift card.

I did get to spend some time with my mother in law without a lot of other people around, and that was nice -- she and I rarely spend time just the two of us and I miss that. We did decide we need to get together for lunch more often, just us ... no husbands, no kids, no cousins / aunts / uncles / nieces / nephews, just us. 

But I think my fantasy of slashing my grocery budget by 50% and having a six-month stockpile of soup and toilet paper, all purchased for less than $5.00 is going to be deferred for a while. 

Back to my own method:  HEB and WalMart and the coupons I get in my own Sunday paper.  I had high expectations, but didn't feel like buying $100 worth of newspapers and using a semi-functioning website to see what was on sale.

My Life's Calling

 I missed my calling in life.  I should have sought the bright lights of Hollywood or Broadway, for I, apparently, am one helluva good actress.  I have managed to convince more than one person that I am a confident, self-assured, upbeat and optimistic woman.  Ha!  That is so far from the truth that I literally fought the urge to look over my shoulder and see who they were talking to, because it obviously wasn't me.  Recently, in two separate situations, I had people tell me they saw traits in me that absolutely, unequivocally, do NOT exist.  I have mentioned before my skepticism with Perpetually Perky Pollianna, those eternally optimistic upbeat souls who claim to greet each day with a smile and an urge to leap out of bed and sing joyfully at the blessing of a new sunrise.  I subscribe to several email newsletters, some Christian, some cooking related, some parenting, some non-descript. In the past few days, I've received emails with these quotes:

A person will be just about as happy as they make up their minds to be.  Abraham Lincoln

I decided to look for things to be grateful for. Cultivating a grateful heart has improved every single aspect of my life far more than I could have ever imagined.  Christy Jordan

“The most important thing is to enjoy your life—to be happy—it's all that matters.” Audrey Hepburn

It's not that I disagree with those sentiments, but I do resent the implication that happy is *just* a choice. 

Sometimes, life is hard, sometimes life disappoints. We've had a tough January (and it's only half over!).  We had several, large, unexpected financial situations come up.  We had a matter we thought was resolved suddenly NOT work out as we anticipated, throwing us into a huge turmoil.  We had a situation with a family member break down.  

But apparently, I'm still giving off a confident, self-assured, upbeat and optimistic vibe. Seriously?  My poor husband could tell you otherwise. 

I see myself as a plodder. I do NOT wake up with a song on my lips, gratitude in my heart and enthusiasm pouring from my soul.  I just don't.  I wake up slowly and reluctantly -- not filled with dread about the day, but certainly not filled with optimistic elation.

It just is an absolute amazement to me that people see me as confident and self-assured.  And upbeat makes me literally laugh out loud (in an ironic and self-depricating way, not in a bubbly, perky way).  

Like I said, am apparently am one helluva good actress.  But maybe I'm *not*, and it's those Perpetually Perky Polliannas who are faking it.  Maybe THEY need to spend a day in their bathrobe, laying on the couch, watching stupid TV.  Not for a lifetime, but for 24 hours. 

Sometimes that helps. 

No, it doesn't do anything to solve the problems bearing down on us, but it gives our brains a chance to think about something ELSE besides the money woes, the impending medical test, the family dysfunction.  

Well, that's the spin I'm putting on it, anyway, to justify my own Bathrobe Monday.  Today, I have to face the world.  And I will.  And if I come across as confident and self-assured, I'll know it's because I indulged in a Bathrobe Monday -- and I'll smile to myself, knowing that I am, indeed, one helluva good actress. 

I don't live in a world where giggly unicorns fart rainbows, nor would I want to -- and I doubt I will EVER greet the day with a song in my heart and a smile on my face. But I will find joy and happiness, and I know God has His hands all over my life.  I know He has a plan, and I know I need to wait and be patient to see it.  And apparently that knowledge manifests itself in my appearing to be confident, self-assured, upbeat and optimistic.  Wow.