You mean I have to name this??

I know I've been gone a while, but I've been a busy lady.
Working is taking everything out of me, including my creativity. And I'm tired of whining to you all about how sore and tired I have been. So I've just been keeping quiet.
Peak has come, and we have had a boost in volume at work. It seems that everyone has something to send, and although I would like to complain about how much more work that is, I am just thankful for a job, and I might not have one, if not for the waxing and waning of volume capacities. Blah, blah, blah.
We are gearing up for the upcoming trip to the Caribbean.
Yes, I am going on my first cruise.
And taking my children.
Boo.
It seems that they are supposed to accompany us on this trip, since it is really for my SIL's wedding, and they need to be there.
Whatever.
I am 38, going on my first cruise.
Taking an 11 and a 12 year old.
Yup, still boo.
Meanwhile, they are stoked about all the fun we will have. Of course, we will be having fun on the boat, because we are too broke to do much sight seeing in the beautiful places we plan to visit. But at least we get to get ON the boat.
But then, we have to swim to Puerto Rico, since we really can't affort airline tickets...
Nah. We will be flying. The kids'll be swimming. teehee.
For some reason, we seem to be taking this wonderful vacation about six weeks before we will have our income tax refund, which is no consolation, because we don't expect much this year.
Anyhoo, I'm doing a little Christmas baking. I have been sick for the past few days, so I've been off work. Really bad timing, considering peak, but you should have heard me cough. I have been toning my stomach muscles using the power of this cough. Now Hailey has it. Poor baby! Hopefully, she won't run a fever like I did.
Guess I should go put together the chocolate chip banana bread. Gotta make up for the peanut butter cookies I burned. At least they had peanut butter in them.

...but I play one on TV

When I was growing up, we used to sing a song about being a sermon in shoes.
"Do you know, oh Christian, you're a sermon in shoes?
Do you know, oh, Christian, you're a sermon in shoes?
Jesus counts upon you to spread the gospel news, so
Teach it and preach it, a sermon in shoes."
Then we added the phrases "know it and show it," "live it and give it," and a few other rhyming additions before we had the big finale, "A SERMON IN SHOOOOOOOOOOEEES!"
Good times.
I may have understood a little what we were singing, but only in a child's way.
Something about being doers and not just hearers of the Word.
Well, time has passed and the song comes to mind occasionally. I was really blessed with my childhood head being filled with scripture songs that God still uses to remind me how to be that sermon in shoes. It's amazing how a God brings them to mind when I need them.
I've learned something about myself on this journey of becoming a working mom.
I'm not the same person I was, some 12 years ago. (Thank God!)
Before, I don't think anyone I worked with knew that I was a Christian. For so long I have subscribed to the "Don't label yourself as a Christian, so you won't have to look bad when you mess up give an account to everyone around." I joke about not putting a fish on my car, because then I'd have to drive like Jesus would.
Now, after being out of the dog-eat-dog, every-man-for-himself world for so long, I have learned to put others' needs ahead of my own. I have learned that the world doesn't revolve around me. It isn't always about me, and we sometimes do what we must. Being thrust back into that place has shown me what a blessing it has been to be shielded from it long enough to grow up and develop some empathy and integrity.
The job I do affords me time to think and pray, sometimes out loud, for the things and people on my mind. I get to sing to myself and talk to God about anything and everything.
Hopefully, I am learning to not just call myself a Christian, but actually act like one, too.

When good cleaners go bad

My mom flips houses. You know, buys foreclosed rejects, fixes them up and
POOF
sells them for a profit. So whenever she has a house that needs fixing, I usually jump in and help out. It gives me a little extra income and helps her get finished more quickly.
Win-win.
So yesterday, when I was there painting cabinet door faces, I realized a few of them were pretty dirty. The kitchen and bathroom sinks are currently disconnected, and the only water source is the outside hose. I had Hailey bring me a wet rag and the bottle of pine-sol. Pouring a bit of pine-sol on the rag as needed, I scrubbed the doors, then painted them. It wasn't until about an hour later that I realized something was wrong. I turned to look at Hailey and the room swam. Determined to finish, I quickly swiped paint on the remaining drawer faces and stood to clean up. I could barely walk! I didn't even TRY to clean my paint brush. Signing out, the list was blurry. I got in my car, thinking that if I could just get home, I could go to bed. Nothing doing. I was violently nauseated. I drove about three blocks before I pulled over and called for back-up. After being rescued by family, and resting the remainder of the evening, I looked online for some answers. Apparently, there are people who sniff pine-sol ON PURPOSE! Sheesh! But dizziness is a common side effect of breathing the fumes. I guess painting and cleaning in a closed room was a bad idea.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled program

Last night was my first night back at work, after a six week medical leave of absence.
I have to say, it was a little surreal. Everyone was surprised to see me, although no one seemed happy I was back. It was just matter of fact. She's back. Moving on.
My manager was out, but I was able to get into the facility, so she (or someone) must have put me in the system. Hopefully the fact that I couldn't clock in or out won't be a problem.
Thankfully, my doctor limited me to two hours of standing/walking at a time, so I was only there for a little while. After the first hour my foot felt like a hot branding iron was being applied directly to the bottom of it. The second hour was spent carefully watching the clock.

Meanwhile, I got my brochures and business cards from the printer, so I will be sending out tons of them tomorrow. I'm working on building a website now. Hopefully, I'll start to see some business soon.

My New Obsession

If you know me at all, you know that when I get started on something, I slightly obsess about it.

It doesn't really matter what it is, and when I get tired of it, I put it away.

Sometimes I pick it back up.

Like this one.

In my time of recovery from my injury, I have spent some time reevaluating my destiny in life. :-) At this time, I am enjoying being home with Caleb while Hailey is away at school. And I'm playing with my facepaints.

I found a cool face painting forum online, joined, and have been reading up on technique, style, and information.

I rented a booth at the local flea market and set up to paint faces there. In spite of the weather being absolutely perfect, I did less-than-impressive business. Apparently, people going to the flea market are looking to buy stuff, not get their faces painted. My bad. So I will be keeping my ear to the ground about local fairs and events, hoping to get some real painting done. Meanwhile we also used the booth to sell some stuff lying around here, and made more with that than my painting. HA!

I made up some business cards and brochures, which a fabulously talented printer I know is printing for me. :-)

I had some brilliant ideas about where I will take them once I have them: some places where kids hang out, and parents are looking to spend money on them. I don't mind taking their money! ;-D

The Tangled Web I DIDN'T Weave

This whole situation has become a stupid, confusing mess.
You know that moment when you realize that a small decision could have made things SO much easier, but you made the decision you made, and you can't go back?
Well, this morning I was given the opportunity to go back. I couldn't take it, because I would be lying, if I did.
I got the call from my senior manager, who wanted to let me know that dancing at work means a warning letter. (read-being written up.) Then she asked me if I was sure I hurt myself dancing. I understand that she was trying to be gracious. I get that she was trying to give me an "out." But I apologized for any inconvenience, since the fact that I hurt my foot dancing a little step means that workman's comp will be denying my claim, and now they have to go to the trouble to discipline me. Oh, gosh! Shame on me for having a moment of jubilation and not being willing to lie about it.
Meanwhile, I have been ordered to see a doctor approved by workman's comp, who happens to be out-of-network from my health insurance. The workman's-comp-approved doctor has ordered me to physical therapy, which means if I get the denial from WC while going to PT, I will have to discontinue PT, go see my PCP and get her to re-order it, which will take time, all while I am out of work.
O G! (oh, gee!)
But what am I doing now?
Sitting by the phone, waiting for the WC case worker to call me and tell me what to do.
I think I'll get out my rubber exercise band and do my OWN PT!
Now, who will I charge for it?

The Impatient Patient

Wah! I am a whiney baby when I'm hurt. I don't like being in pain. I have no idea how my sister copes, having real issues with pain. My own issues are so temporary, compared with hers.
But, there you have it. I am a big, whiney baby.
The good news is that I am surrounded by people who are extremely merciful.

I ended up not getting to go to the orthopedic specialist. Turns out when you hurt yourself at work, it's considered an on-the-job injury. (even if you weren't doing your job when it happened)
Dancing isn't exactly in my job description.
I figured that since I got hurt doing something non-work-related, that it would be wrong to file for workman's compensation. Instead, I got in big, fat trouble for not reporting the injury immediately.
Well, I would be in much more trouble if I didn't have a very understanding manager. (a VUM, if you will) Apparently, it is against company policy to not report an injury. In fact, it's such a no-no that I learned I would be given a warning letter, which would stay in my file for a year, meaning I can't bid on any other jobs for that time. But my VUM appealed to the OSHA director with my reasoning, and it seems that they may decide to give me grace, since I thought I was doing the right thing.
Meanwhile, I was given a list of approved doctors to visit, and saw one of them the next day. She concurred with Dr. Wilcox's diagnosis of a torn plantar fascia, but decided to just give it time to heal. I have to go back in a week and let her re-check. I still have to stay off it; I'm not allowed to drive; I have to ice it for 15 minutes every hour and take the medicine Dr. Wilcox had already prescribed.
But I have to say, I really want to chuck the crutches and just WALK to the bathroom when I need to potty. I am tired of watching TV. I would really love to just read a book, but I can't go to the library. The anti-inflammatory drug I am taking knocks me flat, and gives me a headache.
But I am home. I have seen my kids a lot. I have held my doggies. I have slept during the night. I have had really great friends bring me dinner. I am being well taken care of. I have no reason to complain.

Raining and pouring, etc.

Several weeks ago, I fell and hyperflexed my knee. It has been a miserable recovery, but I am almost there. Unfortunately, due to some frivolity on my part, I cannot walk, yet again, because I tore the plantar fascia on the bottom of my right foot.

The ER doctor has referred me to an orthopedist and I'll be checking in with him early next week. We shall see. I have no idea how long I'll be out of work, but I am under orders to not bear weight on it, prompting me to hobble around on some very fashionable crutches.

Epic Fail

I have mentioned before that I don't like people who don't do their job. And particularly, one person in particular gets on my last particular nerve, but I'm REALLY trying to keep a good attitude about it. Last night, (still today to me, because I haven't been to bed yet) she was in rare form. She doesn't do anything and she treats me like I'm an idiot. I have a very strong suspicion that she doesn't like me, which is fine, because the feeling is mutual. But we do have to work together, so I try to be nice.
But God has been on my case about my attitude. I can't do anything about her actions, but I can do something about my REactions. So tonight, whenever I would feel the frustration building, I would sing a song I learned as a child, which is basically Philippians 4:8 put to music:
"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."
Meanwhile, I am trying to keep my mind stayed on God and how He so richly blessed me all day yesterday.
It started with my manager letting me go home early so I would be well rested for an appointment I had. Then, at this appointment, I took a very tough test and miraculously passed it. I say miraculously, because there's no way I got any of the answers right on purpose. I didn't have time to do the complex math problems, much less decide which multiple choice answer to pick. So, either God directed my hand in the random choices I made, or the correct answer wasn't really the point. They told us to not leave anything blank. I answered everything.
Then I got a message from a friend whose child has outgrown the uniform shirts I needed to buy for Hailey, and wants to bless us with them. Hailey gets some used, but still in good condition uniform shirts for free!
So tonight I was determined to keep my chin up and not let her get to me. I was fine almost all night.
Then IT happened.
Every night we go load a plane near a building with a restroom. Every night, several of us go into this building and use said restroom. Tonight, however, I asked if it was okay for me to go inside and she told me we weren't allowed to go in there. I told her I go in there every night. Apparently, we aren't really supposed to go in, because the pilots don't like to share their nice building with hourlies. So I can't go use the restroom.
She says, "You should have gone before you came out to the plane."
I say, "I didn't want to leave the slide, when I always use the bathroom out here."
She says, "Well, you can't go in there anymore."
So I say, "Well, then, you'll have to take me back."
She says, "I can't take you back now. We have to load the plane."
I lost it.
Testimony~gone.
I got off the people mover and shouted that she could have told me that before she drove me all the way out to the plane, stormed off, threw my bag to the ground, and proceded to tell the rest of the crew just what I thought of being treated that way.
After it was all said and done, I had to apologize for over reacting and being childish. Who knows if I will be in trouble for making a fuss, but I did apologize to everyone individually.
But the thing I was most grieved about was that I was trying so hard to be a witness to these people. I had even had the chance to share the gospel with some of them. But I am still a sinner. We all make mistakes. Thankfully, God's mercies are new every morning.
And guess what?
It's morning!

Clean-up on aisle "Whine"

After a few weeks of back-breaking, sweat-inducing work, I have come to the conclusion...
I'm crazy.
We already knew it, but now it is confirmed.
I thought going to work at night would be a cinch, because I'm a night owl.
Turns out that staying up on facebook and watching the tube until 3 am doesn't exactly condition you for throwing boxes of all sizes and weights for hours on end during the night.
And don't even get me started about the whole heat issue.
There's something to be said for good old fashioned air conditioning.
I said that last night, and Shawn about snorted tea out his nose.
Meanwhile, I had a mini breakdown a couple of nights ago. Years of sleeping for 9-10 hours per night has softened me. No comments.
Now I have to try to function on about 6-7. It ain't working. Meltdowns are inevitable under these circumstances.
I don't eat much, because, when do I eat? I wake up around 2:30. Too late for lunch, and I'm not hungry yet. So I have dinner with the family. Then a snack of cheese and fruit or a lunchable around 2:30 am.
That's it.
So it would be obvious that the weight should just melt right off, wouldn't you think?
Well, you'd be WRONG!
I guess my body is in starvation mode, preserving every drop of precious (note the sarcasm) fat, so I can function during the night.
Whatever.
Meanwhile, back to the breakdown at hand...
I don't know when to do laundry, because I'm basically a walking zombie. I get up, but my brain is not engaging. The laundry is piled up, including the clean laundry, which needs to be folded. The toilet needs scrubbing, I think I could sweep up the hair on my bathroom floor and knit a wig for the dog. (who I accidentally shaved a stripe into the side of... don't ask)
I don't do much around the house anymore. The kids do most of it. It's not fair to them, and they do a kid-level job of it. But I have to be thankful for what I can get these days.
I miss my kids, I miss my bff, who I only have time to text now, I miss my husband, and I miss my dogs.
The end.

Ask, and ye shall receive

Monday night was hard. So hard, that I had to wonder if I was crazy for taking this job. Frankly, I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing. Tuesday I spent the whole day just exhausted, even after a full "night's" sleep. (quotes, because it was daytime. duh.)

I was cranky. I was crabby. I was whiny.

I went to work anyway.

On my way, I prayed for God to make the night a little easier than the night before.
I think I might have actually asked for it to be a LOT easier, but I don't remember.

There was much rambling and whining.

I even posted a note on facebook for my friends to pray.

Then I went in to work.

I couldn't get through security.

Somehow, because of a computer glitch, the security gates thought I wasn't scheduled to work.

I called my manager.
No answer.

I called her cell phone.
Still no answer.

I waited about 15 minutes and tried again.
She answered her cell and told me to sit tight and she'd come get me.

I waited.

In an air conditioned building.

In a chair.

For two hours.

On the clock.

Well, technically, I was only on the clock for an hour and a half of that, but that's not the point.

I asked God for a break. He gave me one that I'd never have thought to ask for.

I cast all my cares upon Him, and he cared FOR me.

Because He loves me.

And that's how He rolls.

Operation kill 'em with kindness

Romans 12: 17-21
17 Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men.
18 If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.
19 Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.
20 Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.
21 Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.

So tonight I began the operation. I wasn't really sure how it would be received. I turned my body perpendicular to my conveyor belt, and whenever I had a spare second, I reached over to the belt that runs behind where I stand. The packages come down a circular slide onto the belt, where they do not always land with the labels up. It takes a few seconds for each package to be flipped so the lable can be read and the person working the belt can decide where to push them down the next slide. Sometimes, it gets overwhelming because so many packages come at once and you have to flip, read, compute, and sometimes slide them all at the same time. So I decided to try something. I leaned over and flipped every package I could, whenever I could. This way when they reached Kris*, they were already visible. It cut down on his work considerably.
Then I started talking to Chelsea (amazing, tiny, machine girl) about how when she's out tomorrow and all next week, that Kris* and I will have to try to keep up with her job, and how I wasn't sure we were up to the challenge. I made sure to say it cheerfully, including Kris* in the comment, so he'd know I was counting on him. Then I turned on the charm. Whenever we had a quick second, I started talking to him. I asked him if he had another job, how long he'd been there, did he have kids, what was his favorite part of the job, commented that he didn't say much... Just small talk, really. And guess what!?!
Go ahead, guess.
He's been there for 23 years, he has done quite a few things out there, he doesn't have another job, working the one he has is enough BS for him to take, he sleeps in his other time, he doesn't have any kids, his favorite part of the job is the paycheck, and before the night was over he was helping me and Chelsea pick up packages that had been stacked in the walkway when the belts and slides were overloaded!
Now I have someone else to work on. Somehow I don't think charm will work with this one...

Zero

Apparently I have no tolerance for people who don't do their job.

Pay no attention to this plank in my eye, or the laundry needing done, or the dishes piled up....

Shut up, conscience!

As I was saying, people who stand around, looking very busy, while the rest of us bust our whatchamacallits, really, REALLY annoy me.

Don't worry, I'll tell you how I really feel.

I mean, seriously... There's a young lady who works on the same conveyor belt where I work. She runs all over the place zipping packages down the slide to their appropriate places. She runs up and down the belt, sliding packages hither and yon. She's amazing. She's tiny. She's a machine.

The guy who stands behind her, facing the opposite belt NEVER moves from the place he stands. He NEVER offers a hand when she is lifting an obviously heavy or cumbersome package.

I asked the young woman tonight if there was something wrong with Kris* (no offense, Chris, I pulled this name out of the sky). She tells me that he is kinda weird. He does the same thing every night. He comes in, he works until 2:30 and then leaves. No one questions him. Oh, and his daddy is Phred Smyth's* personal pilot.

Oh, now I get it.

So from now on, I am going to try to engage this man. I am going to give him EVERY opportunity to help out when I am in need of assistance.

It's how I roll.

Meanwhile, we have a certain lady on our team who is very similar, in that she does NO work. I find this absolutely unacceptable. But I don't know what I can possibly do about it. Tonight I tried to give her the opportunity to lift a finger and she told me that I was doing fine.

Whatever. I'm gonna pray for her.

And for me.

That I don't push the wrong person and end up in trouble. ;-)

*Spellings of actual names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
And also, so that a google search doesn't end me up in trouble with the big guy.

Who needs Jillian?

I'm serious when I say that FedEx kicks tail.

My tail.

And my feet, arms, hands, back...

*whine, whine, whine....*

You get the idea.

Let the beatings commense.

Move over Brad, Denzel, and Johnny Depp!

You have nothing on this sexiest man alive!

Yesterday afternoon, as I was walking down the hall to put away the freshly folded laundry, I heard curious sounds coming from my bedroom.

I opened the door, and there HE was...

Shirtless....

Vacuuming the floor of the room he had cleaned...

Without even being asked.

"What can I do for YOU?"


Mmmm, Mmmm, MMMM!

Now, THAT'S sexy!

Beginning again

Back in 1993, you know, when I was 12, I first started working for FedEx as a handler. It was brutal work. I started in the very toughest place of all: the input. This is where packages are removed from the containers and placed on conveyor belts where they are whisked away to primary sort. I didn't stay in that area any longer than necessary, as I learned pretty quickly that you can bid on other jobs, which are less.... vigorous. I worked all over the place in the five years I was there: inside, outside, in the dangerous goods area, outbound, high security, whatever... I went to as many training classes as I could get my various managers to approve, gaining knowledge and certification to do pretty much everything there is to do in the entire operation, except a few things. I was even in management training.

Then I had a baby.

Twelve years and another child later, I am starting all over.

I can't even begin to tell you how terrifying it is this time. For one thing, I'm MUCH older this time. For another thing, I'm not in the shape I was in when I was, ahem, twelve. My knees, feet, and back are telling me stories now. When I try to go to bed, they have to let me know just how much they protest this thing that I am doing to them.

Thankfully, and I DO mean that I have spent the past few days thanking God, I was not placed in an input. I managed to score an outbound manager who has several flights. She graciously put me in a place of minimal brutality, and I am ever so grateful. It's still hard work, but I know just how much harder it could be, so I have been very thankful.

Technology has changed, but the basic operation is the same. Packages come in; they are sorted; they go back out.

Meanwhile, I'm getting a good workout in, drinking plenty of water, trying to figure out what to eat and when, so as not to end up with the monster headache I had after the first night. The kids are learning to cope for a while without me in the morning, and Hailey has really bent over backward to be kind and gentle to me.

Let Me Hold You Longer

It's a weekend of lasts for me here.
I am so excited to be going back to work for a company that has so much to offer. I am eagerly anticipating getting back in the swing of things I already know how to do. I am looking forward to re-training and getting recertified for the many things I did when working there before.
But, lest it seem like I am simply bursting with glee at the changes heading my way, let me tell you. I am filled with trepidation and fear.
I will be leaving my family every day to go do something they do not participate in. I will be entering a world they have never seen and begin to speak of things they know not about.
I will need to organize and plan, which has never come easy for me. I will have to rely on my husband and children in a way I never have. I will be tired and sore and cranky. But I will get stronger. I will probably lose a little weight, even. I will work hard and feel a sense of accomplishment.
Meanwhile, I'm going to go lie down with my son for a few minutes on this last weekend I have before becoming a working mom.
And I will try very hard not to cry.

These boots are made for...

When you start at FedEx, you never know where you will end up. The whole operation is massive, and the hub is acres upon acres.
The job may take you inside, where you move packages, or it may take you outside, where you move containers of packages.
And if you get lucky, you may get to do both.
But whatever the case, the safety shoes you are required to wear will need to last you for a while. It is wise to choose well. I chose a pair of waterproof ones.
Another of my fellow hirees was looking around at the selection, and in my desire to help a girl out, since I've been here before, I suggested to her that she select waterproof shoes, as well.
"What for?"
"Just in case they get wet."
"Well, I ain't working outside!"
I just looked at her in amazement. There is no way she knows where she's going.
I told her she will be outside if they assign her to an outside position.
I don't see her making it.

She works hard for the money

So, anyway....

I found the number after rummaging through the caller ID and dialed it. The nice lady on the other end transferred me to the lady who manages the night shift applications.

And you know what? She was nice, too. She told me that the hiring session for that week was full, but to call her on Wednesday this week and she'd get me into Friday's session.

But then Monday, while I was minding my own business, floating around in the pool by myself while everyone I know and love is at camp, the cell phone rang.

"Mrs. Thomas, this is (insert name here) from FedEx. I was calling about your application and wondered if you were still interested in working for us."

"Absolutely! Can I start tomorrow?"

"Well, almost. Come in Wednesday morning for a hiring session. Bring two forms of ID and...."

So as of this morning, I am gainfully employed by the great company known as FedEx.

Yippee!!!

Patience, the missing virtue

Yes, I know that you already know it. I am NOT a patient person.

But when the lady from FedEx tells me she will call, I expect a call. I wait around by the phone, like a girl waiting for a boy to call.

The phone does not ring.

Ring, phone. Ring.

*silence*

I flip through the caller ID, looking for the number.

I find it.

Would it be right to call?

I could just act like I missed a call...
But that wouldn't be honest.

Honesty is the best policy.

I know patience is a virtue. I know.

Shut up.

So I ask my BFF if calling might be running ahead of God.

She thinks so.

I ask my pastor's wife if it would be running ahead of God.

She thinks it's a great idea actually.

I ask my husband if he thinks it would be running ahead of God.

He finally caves and says to call on Friday, if they don't call Thursday.

But then he warns me that I might not like what I get if I make that call.

So still I fret. Still I pray that God would help me not run ahead of Him.

Then I ask a good friend who works within the company. (no, I don't think she is going to do anything to help. She works in a totally different division. I just need her perspective, as one who works for this giant mega-machine)

She says that showing initiative in this job market is actually a good idea, and suggests I call.

So I do.

(to be continued...)

What to do?

What a week! Last Thursday I got the call back from FedEx I was waiting for, but I got it while I was typing a letter to my sister's boss, who wanted me to apply for a full time job. I was telling her I was interested in hearing more, and the phone rang. It was (what'shername) from FedEx, calling to see if I was available to come the next morning for a hiring session. This is code for an interview and lift test, I think...

I spun a little out of control. I freaked. What was God trying to say to me?! Which job should I take? Going to work full time meant days and a cushy office job. FedEx meant nights and hard manual labor. Full time meant putting Caleb in school with Hailey, and not being a stay at home mom anymore. FedEx meant getting to keep Caleb home for another year and still staying home with him. Full time meant getting to go to bed with my husband, who says he doesn't sleep well without me, and being a slave to an alarm clock. FedEx meant getting to sleep until I wake up, and indulging my not-a-morning-person self. Full time meant going into an unfamiliar line of work and learning a whole new thing. FedEx meant going to familiar surroundings and doing a job I can do well and already know how to do, and feel confident in my ability to shine.

There were so many pros and cons to each possibility, that my head was spinning.

I couldn't go in to FedEx on Friday morning, as I had another commitment, so I asked if I could come next week. The nice lady said she'd call me back next week and set it up. This bought me a little time. Then on Friday morning I went in to the full time job office and filled out an application, submitted my resume, had a brief interview with the office manager, and retrieved my niece from the boss (my Friday commitment). The office manager was very nice, and informed me the position she would have available soon would be temporary, and mentioned that she knew I had heard from FedEx. I told her I was just checking my options.

Then I went home and prayed and thought some more.

That afternoon, as I was making a pros and cons chart (because the choices were that close), the office manager called and told me that she wouldn't need me until the end of July, and she hated for me to pass up working a permanent job.

So now I wait for the nice Ms. What'shername to call me back. I'm assuming she will call me tomorrow, since they do certain steps on certain days, but I really have no way of knowing.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to get my house in order and finish a few projects I have going on around here, because when I do get that call, I want to be ready.

Cuz they are going to KICK. MY. TAIL.

And I will be dawg tired.

Craziness

I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging.
I lied.
Mostly because I was hanging the whole time with you.
You didn't think I'd leave you out there alone, did you?!?!

So, I didn't get what I wanted. (exactly)
I might get part of it, but it's okay, I guess.
Meanwhile, since I wasn't getting any word about my wish, I decided to start looking around for something different.

In case you haven't figured out what I mean, I'm talking about a job.

A very good friend of mine had a baby recently, and a little birdie suggested that I might enjoy keeping said baby when said friend returned to work. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea, and the more I liked the idea, the more I LOVED the idea. And the more I LOVED the idea, the more I OBSESSED about the idea.

You get the, er, idea....

Anyhoo, I mentioned the idea to my friend, and got a pretty strong glimmer of hope that it might happen, but alas. It is not to be. Actually, I may be keeping the baby one evening a week for about an hour and a half, but I'm not sure.

Meanwhile, I finished getting the budget in order, and surprise, surprise, surprise! (insert Gomer Pyle voice...) The budget looks impossible. I really believe that God wants me to put Hailey in school this fall, so we had to consider other options. Shawn works full time and also goes to school full time, so he cannot get a second job. Which leaves me...
I have been technically unemployed for the past six years, which is hogwash, of course, and I never finished college, so I don't have much in the way of marketable skills.
But I used to work for FedEx, and left with a very good work record, so I went this morning and applied to go back.
The application process went well, and they told me they are hiring aggressively, so I could be at work in less than a month.

As my other friend says...

Craziness!!!

Praising in the storm

Overload

...is pretty much what I feel today. My town has experienced a devastating flood. The reports said something about 10-12 inches of rain in just a matter of hours.
On Saturday, May 1st, I got a message on facebook to come to the church because it had been flooded. They were calling for volunteers to come help clean it up. By the time we got it mostly clean, and they told us that the insurance company had professional help on the way, I decided we ought to go check my in-laws empty rental, just in case. I wasn't surprised to find water in it. Shawn stayed there while I went to pick up his mother, who is in town supervising the repairs from the damage done by the broken water pipe. On the way to get her, I got my first look at the water level. Already a trailer park and the funeral home and everything in between was neck-deep in water. People were being rescued by boat.
And that was BEFORE the levee broke.
And BEFORE the Loosahatchie River overflowed its banks.
And BEFORE the water crested.

Thankfully, the only room that got wet in my MIL's house has a tile floor and the water was easily removed.

The rest of the town wasn't so lucky. The military housing was evacuated.
The trailer park was evacuated.
Several whole neighborhoods were evacuated.

Houses were destroyed.
Things were destroyed.
Possessions were ruined and lost.
People were in shock.

But not one life in Millington was lost.
I can't even say that without crying.

My church opened its doors to the Red Cross and became a shelter. The staff and the membership began pouring out love for our town. Other churches, restaurants, and businesses stepped up. The donations came flooding in, and I don't use that word lightly. There were mountains of clothes, shoes, household items, personal items, cleaning supplies, and everything and anything you can imagine.

And then there was the organizing. This is NOT my strong suit. I am a worker bee. A very good worker bee, but not an organizer. Organizers just amaze me. There were SO many ladies and children everywhere sorting, folding, organizing all the donations, organizing the people and what their needs were, then helping those people by filling orders for all the things they needed.

The whole operation was organized chaos, at best, but the love was overwhelmingly evident.

It isn't over, as the cleaning teams are still out there helping clean out the mess, which could take months, and people are still without homes, but the crisis has been met with confidence and God's love.

One of the flood victims who sings in my choir gave a very moving testimony which I will never forget, and I still hear that little song in my mind...

"This little light of mine...
I'm gonna let it shine...."

Warning! Danger Will Robinson!

You know when you want something really badly, but you are afraid to say anything, because you don't want to ruin your chances of getting what you want?
Well, I want something.
I want it really badly.
It's all my sister's fault.
She is so bossy.
(or it might be that she knows me so well, that she knows when a suggestion at just the right moment will encourage me to do something I might not have considered before, but whatever. She's still bossy, and it stinks that whenever she suggests something, I usually end up doing it. Like homeschooling. And stopping homeschooling.)
Meanwhile, this perfectly planted suggestion is growing like a raging fire in my heart, and I need to stop obsessing, or I'm going to make somebody an offer they can't refuse, and it will be a burden on me sooner, rather than later, and I will resent it.
Whew!
Just needed to vent.
Hopefully, I won't leave you hanging forever on this one.

Testing, testing...
This short post brought to you by the amazing technology of SMS...
carry on.

(non) chocolate covered

I don't have much to say these days. I admit that I have been cheating shamelessly on Blogger, with the suave, debonair Facebook.
How can I resist such appeal of posting in short, choppy, third-person-sentences, from the comfort of my cell phone.
I suppose I could splurge and add internet access to my cell phone package, but where would that leave my darling facebook?
Meanwhile, Caleb offered me something today that reminded me of this joke:

A pastor goes to the hospital to visit one of his church members.
As he is sitting there, he spies a bowl of peanuts, and helps himself.

After he leaves, the patient scowls to his wife,
"You know how long it took me to suck the chocolate off of those?"

So, thanks for the offer, but I'll pass on the pile of almonds you have extracted from the almond kisses, but thanks.

Overwhelmed

Last night we had our Easter program at church. We always do a pretty big presentation with a musical play. This year was no different.
I was telling the kids today, over lunch, that I can't really watch it while it's happening, because I might just bust out bawling. The whole story is overwhelming to me.
In our world of instant entertainment, our kids have a hard time grasping the reality of what they are seeing.
Sure, that's just a man playing the part of Jesus.
Sure, that's just fake blood on his body, and they are not really nailing Kevin to that cross.
But the reality is that the REAL Jesus was beaten so bloody that he wasn't even recognizable.
The reality is that they pierced His holy hands with spikes, and nailed His torn body to a cross, where He had the humiliation of hanging for all to see.
But the part that overwhelms me, is that when He took upon Himself my own sin, which made Him unpleasing to His Father, God forsook His own Son.
For me.
For you.
God laid on Him the iniquity of us all, so that by His stripes, we would be healed.

There is a penalty for sin. God says that penalty is death.
Eternal death.
But I don't have to pay for my sin, because Jesus did it for me.
How is it possible to feel so overwhelmingly unworthy, and so very thankful, at the same time?
I don't know.
But I do.
Do you?

Does This Jet Pack Make My Butt Look Big?

So I heard on the radio the other day that we have finally caught up with the Jetsons. Apparently, a jet pack has been invented for the masses.

I'm assuming that you will have to sign a legal waiver along the lines of, "I __________, being of sound mind and body, (for the moment) do hereby release __________ from any and all legal responsibility concerning the stupidity that shall herewith commence, as I strap my body to an explosive, highly flammable device, and attempt to break free of the gravitational force which God hath so graciously bestowed upon our planet, although, if the force could be released, ever so slightly, I would not weigh as much as I currently weigh...(wait, that's another agreement.) ...I won't sue if I run out of gas, hit a bird, get a bug in my eye, collide with a jet-liner, or choke on a cloud."

I was telling Shawn about it, and mentioning that, if money were no object...

Don't you love sentences like that?

If money was no object...

If I had all the money in the world...

I would pay off all my bills, fund a cure for cancer and stupidity, and buy my husband a jet pack.

So then we started talking about the beauty of owning this wave of the future.

He could leave for work and get there in 15 minutes, instead of an hour.

He wouldn't need much of a parking space.

It would get great mileage.

Or would it?

Just what is the weight limit on this thing, anyway?

Look What I'm Learning To Do!

Not Me! Monday (ladies only!)

It has been awhile since I did a Not Me! Monday. Mostly because I always do everything as planned, and never do anything embarrassing.

Riiiight!

Anyhow, Not Me! Monday is the genius brain-child of MckMama, and is a great way of telling others about our imperfections and foibles.

So here goes:

This week, I was not having so much pain in my feet that I poured paraffin wax in zip lock bags to put my feet inside. And when my feet were NOT in the bags of hot wax and I was NOT lying back in the dark, on the recliner, I did not hike my right leg into the air to squeeze the bag around my foot to distribute the remaining melted wax.

Ladies do not "hike" their legs up into the air, and I am a lady.

And certainly, while said leg was NOT hiked in the air while I did NOT squeeze the bag of hot wax, the still-melted wax did NOT run out the bag, down my inner left thigh, and onto the seat of the recliner.

And while the hot wax was NOT running down my left thigh and onto the seat of the recliner toward my, uh, er, um, "place," I did NOT start scooting up the back of the recliner, but not quickly enough. And I did NOT! sit there while the remaining still warm wax came to rest against me, and with my eyebrows raised, say, "Huh!"

Life Triumphs Over Death

I live in the forest.


I am surrounded by life.


Trees, flowers, birds, squirrels, deer, racoons, possums, skunks, foxes, coyotes, snakes, fish, leaves, and vines are seen regularly in my neighborhood.


By this time of year, the whole outdoors has begun to look brown. Just brown. Leaves, fallen after the last pick-up of the season, litter the ground, the vibrant colors a distant memory. They are brown. They are dead.


But new life awaits.


Green and yellow happiness has arrived.


Life has triumphed over death.

She Hangs Her Undies Out To Dry

If the pain radiating from my foot, from whence my husband dug out a splinter is any indication, we might be in for some warmer weather soon.
I actually did a little sunbathing today. (you know, in between school lessons and hanging laundry out on the line.)

Speaking of laundry, I'm pretty particular about what I hang. I love the smell of freshly washed sheets on my bed, especially if they smell like trapped sunshine. I like to hang towels out to dry, because they smell so clean after my shower, but I'm not crazy about the stiffness. I hang them anyway. I don't usually hang jeans, because when they come off, they look like they can stand on their own, and that scares me. Every once in a while I hang out a load of colors.

But I never,

NEVER

hang out underwear.

There are just some things folks don't need to see.

But today I made an exception. Today I hung the undies out to dry.

(I hung them on the side of the line away from the neighbor's house, where they won't be seen, though!)

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Hailey on the Tomorrowland Speedway ride in 2005

Hailey on the Tomorrowland Speedway ride in 2010

Rambling Rosie

We're back from the land down under. No, we didn't go to Australia. Florida is technically under us. But, now that you mention it, we did go to Japan... I came to a conclusion while we were there.

I love camping.

I love it.

I love taking the camper out and making the beds, putting out my pink flamingo decorations and lights, and playing house in the great outdoors.

I love Disney World.

I love it.

I love seeing the characters and sharing things with my kids that were part of my own childhood, and meant something to me, growing up.

But I don't love the camping-Disney World combination.

Camping is work.

Disney World is work.

There is no down time when you do both together.

I think it would have been better if we had a couple of extra days to just enjoy the campground sometime during the week, instead of running and running, just stopping long enough to sleep, but not sleeping long enough.

Each park really needs at least two days to explore properly. Hailey wanted to wait in lines and get autographs, but I didn't let her stand in all those lines. There just wasn't time. Thankfully, she got all the princess autographs at her Cinderella breakfast. Otherwise, we'd still be in line.

We did ride most of the rides we wanted to ride, and the lines were not bad at all. In fact, we only needed fast-passes for one ride, which we ended up not riding. We had no wait at all for the Tower of Terror. Which, come to think of it, should have told me that I wouldn't like it. I have an extreme fear of heights. I don't like ladders, ledges, or even standing on chairs. Now I know why. I really, REALLY hate the sensation of falling. The first time we rode the Tower, I didn't make a peep. I was too scared to scream. I used every ounce of my strength to hold on to the handles beside my chair, to keep my behind in my seat. Yes, there was a seatbelt, but I wasn't taking any chances.

If you noticed, I said, "the first time."

We rode it twice.

Why? you ask. Good question. I don't even know.

Bethany asked if we wanted to go again. I said I didn't know. Hailey wanted to go again, so I asked Chris if she was going again. She said, "Sure, why not?"

Why not?

WHY NOT???

Because I need my heart to slide back down from my throat to my chest!

And I need clean pants!

But it's all good. I'm just glad we got to see a few of the shows while we were there. Finding Nemo and The Beauty and the Beast were exceptional. The 3D shows we saw were fun, and Shawn got to be "That Guy" in the Monster's Inc. Laugh Floor show.

They gave Shawn and me each a pin that said Happy Anniversary on it, so everywhere we went, people wished us Happy Anniversary.

Caleb got to go through Jedi training and now has his padawan certification.

Bethany and I got our faces painted.
Hailey and I had breakfast in Cinderella's castle.

We learned what pin trading was all about, and spent WAY too much money on pins to trade. (whoever thought up that idea was a genius!) Pin trading brought my son closer to his Auntie Chris, which brought joy to my heart and tears to my eyes.

The campground was really nice, with the exception of how close each campsite was to the next. There was really no privacy, which wouldn't work for regular camping. Disney World camping was fine, since we didn't spend much time at the campground. and neither did the other campers. The pool was fabulous, complete with a gigantic water slide. The kids loved it. We even roasted marsmallows one night at the outdoor theater, where Highschool Musical 3 was playing.

About That Cliffhanger

I know I left you hanging, and I didn't mean to. I just didn't know the answer to my dilemma until today.

I have been homeschooling for some time now. In fact, this is our fifth year. I have loved it. I have enjoyed it. I have hated it. I have groaned some mornings when the sun rose. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions sometimes.

But there was one thing I was always sure of until now. This was what God wanted me to do. This year I have been struggling with a certain young lady, who shall remain nameless. She has whined, complained, thrown tantrums, begged, pleaded, etc. to get out of doing school. I am worn down by the battle. And since I am easily swayed by all such methods, this year has been very difficult.

But all that changed with a single text. Someone in my sister's office quit. Someone who did a job that I knew I could do. So I hit my knees and sent out prayer requests to my friends, asking God what to do. If it was time to send the kids to private school, I needed a job that would pay for it. I have been a stay-at-home-mom since Hailey was a tiny baby. I don't have many marketable skills. Besides, I didn't want to leave my cushy life as a kept woman. But I needed to do what God wanted me to do, so I prayed and dove into the Word, looking for an answer.

I got one.

It wasn't the one I expected, but since it's even better, I'm okay with that.

Shawn got two job offers in one week. He wasn't even seeking employment from these companies, but they came looking for him. The first offer was good, but the second offer was too good to pass up. He accepted it and will start in a few weeks.

It will pay for Hailey's tuition and I will stay home, continuing to homeschool Caleb.

Isn't God good?!?!

**Lest anyone think I'm banishing my daughter, I think she will flourish in school. She needs interaction with other kids more than she has in the past, and she filters her attitude better with other teachers. I wish she would with me, but I know she will do fabulously.

Meanwhile, Caleb needs to work on building a few good character qualities before I subject a teacher to him. I'm hoping a little one on one will help him learn a little tenderness and compassion, as well as respect for his elders.