“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking successive autumns.” — George Eliot

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I took this picture a couple of days ago with my iPhone, just down our street. You can click to enlarge it if you like. The summer humidity has fled, the nights are turning crisp and cool, and the trees are superbly showing off before they drop their leaves and go to sleep for the winter.

Like so many of you, this is my favorite time of year, and it always seems too short. There’s a good chance we’ll see snow before the month is over, and then Michael and I will dream of being snowbirds again.

When I moved to beautiful Minnesota in 1981 (from sunny Southern California), I couldn’t understand why so many older people left the state for warmer climes during a winter month or two. Now that I’m 56, I totally get it. If I ever left Minnesota it would be very bittersweet, but the thought of going to a state with cooler summers and warmer winters is very appealing these days.

The sun is coming up and the sky is periwinkle over Lake Superior, I can hear a shower running, coffee needs brewing, and a hungry man awaits breakfast.

I hope your day is blessed…

Hi everyone! I’ve been back from Seattle and Bainbridge Island for a little over a week now. I took quite a few average quality photos while I was there, and I’ll be posting them sometime soon so you can see what a great time Denel and I had at The Second Annual Lupi-Soo Convention.

It seems like so much can happen in a couple of weeks. First of all, my recovering right knee has decided I was getting a tad too smug in my progress, and has been sore and swollen for two weeks now. Secondly, Community Bible Study has begun, and in the book of Daniel we’re learning about and being encouraged by the completely trustworthy and loving sovereignty of God. Thirdly, autumn has arrived in full color in northeastern Minnesota, and I’ll put up a picture or two of the gorgeousness soon. Fourth, we have a new vacuum. And I’m in a state of disbelief at the state of our carpets.

For those of you who don’t know, we have lived in this house for about a year and two months. We had brand new carpet installed in the living room on the day we moved in. We immerse ourselves in the Minnesota tradition of taking our shoes off as soon as we come in the door, and usually wear either clean socks or slippers when inside. I’m kind of picky about carpet. I don’t like dirty carpet. I usually steam clean my carpets every other year myself, because I’m not entirely satisfied with the quick way some of the professional carpet cleaning companies do the job.

In addition, I wasn’t thrilled with the Hoover vacuum we had in the old house. I then bought a Kenmore that was highly rated by Consumer Reports Magazine and never really loved that one either. It bit the dust after five years, and recently I started reading up on vacuums. I decided, very reluctantly, to get a much too expensive Dyson. This one.

Dyson makes claims about their vacuums that not every owner and reviewer agrees with, but 90% of the reviews I read were very positive. There are no disposable vacuum bags with these machines, just a transparent container with a handle on it that snaps out of place for easy emptying when the gag factor climbs too high.

Here’s what came out of our fairly small living room carpet which is only fourteen months old, and one half of our bedroom carpet, both of which have been cared for meticulously and vacuumed frequently:

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh, because HA HA HA! that dirt is no longer in our carpet! Or cry, because OH MY GOSH! that dirt was in our carpet!

I could have told you what I think God is doing in my life these days (and I’m so grateful He hasn’t given up on me), or regale you with cute sayings uttered by my grandchildren, or share about the new television series Michael loves, but instead I thought I’d show you our dirt.

Coming soon: Seattle, Shari, the Space Needle, some swell sea views, scrumptious sustenance, and snacks…

Dearest friends,

I’m taking a little break from the blog and am not sure when I’ll return. Very soon I will be on my way to this lovely scenery for The Second Annual Lupi-Soo Convention, and I am so excited.

The car Denel and I rent will be transported across Puget Sound in a ferry much like the one above, and we hope to have a few restful, memorable, laughing days together in Seattle and on Bainbridge Island. My dear family members have gathered around to help make sure things go well here at home while I’m gone. I couldn’t enjoy my Lupi-Soo reunions without them.

If you’ve never read about the First Lupi-Soo Convention that took place last year 9,000 feet above sea level in the Rockies, you can click here.

I’m always a little surprised to find that people stop by my blog at all, and I want to thank you again for making time in your life to visit, and especially to say hello in the comments!

God bless you all, and I’ll be praying for you while I’m gone….

These are a few more favorites from my at least six shelves of childrens’ books. My younger grandchildren go back to these again and again, especially if they know I’ll read them out loud for them. I do the best I can using different voices and gestures as I read to them. They crack up when I read them this book, especially by the last page when I open my mouth wide, throw back my head and bellow, “Whhhhhaaaaaaaatttt?”  🙂

This is always a hit, and I love this quirky family myself:

And this one is funny and ridiculous:

We love almost all the Jan Brett books — have you seen them? Her illustrations are rich and detailed and can keep me poring over the pages for an hour. My granddaughter Mrs. Nisky wants me to read this again and again, and she likes the way I do the trolls’ voices:

I think this is my favorite of the “If you…” books by Laura Numeroff:

And this older book is something Audrey likes to have read to her repeatedly. She doesn’t understand how someone could swallow the sea or grow legs hundreds of feet long…

And I love this book probably more than the grandchildren. My friend Carole told me about it and it’s profound for adults.  🙂

Have you read any of these books to the little ones in your life?

What are some of your favorite books for young children?

Oh, it feels like fall here this morning. I love it. I had to get up in the middle of the night to close some windows because our top sheet, thermal cotton blanket, quilt, and top blanket we use so the dogs don’t make the quilt dingy weren’t enough to keep us warm. It will be time to turn on the furnace soon, and it was only two days ago that we had the central air on. Years ago when we had to be aware of every dollar, I would try to delay turning on the furnace until the first of October each year, but I rarely made it that late. The final weeks of September almost always turn cold in northern Minnesota, and this year seems like it will do the same.

The dogs are noticing the temperature difference too, because for the first time in months they’ve both wanted to burrow down under the covers at night instead of sleeping on top. They’re our own personal little space heaters. I have no idea how they breathe down there.

Michael and I took our Fosters out to dinner last night and to a movie. We had fabulous Vietnamese food at one of our favorite restaurants, and brought so much home we’ll have it again tonight. Michael had Spicy Beef Cashew, HOT, and I had Spicy Chicken Cashew, mild. And how could we not share an order of Spring Rolls, dipped in tangy fish sauce?

We saw a movie last night that I absolutely loved. You may remember that I like slow, meandering, nuanced, meaningful movies, and this one fit the bill. If you like action and explosions and lots of laughs, Still Mine would not be for you. It was beautifully filmed in rural New Brunswick and I got the itch to become a Canadian about ten minutes into the movie. I’m not sure children should see the movie because of some unexpected and jolting language and one scene of intimacy between husband and wife (not graphic), but please watch the wonderful trailer by clicking here.

When I told my friend Su we were going to see a movie about an older man making all the changes necessary to care for his wife who has dementia, she asked me, “Why would you want to see that?” and I understood what she was saying. She wondered why I would pay to purposely see something that was probably going to be sad. I answered, “Because I want to be encouraged.” I knew from seeing the trailer that the man loves his wife and wants the best for her, and struggles to make adjustments to her disease. Each day Michael and I walk this path of Parkinson’s, I need help. I need help because I don’t like him hovering when I’m getting meals ready, unable to tell me why he’s there. I don’t like him blurting out two-word phrases to me that make no sense, that I’m supposed to interpret and can’t, even after 10 frustrating minutes. I don’t like that we are now couch potatoes since watching television is what we can do together. I don’t like that I have to tell him when and how to brush his teeth. I don’t like that I have to tell him fifty times a day “Take big steps!” because he forgets how to walk correctly, shuffles and almost falls. I don’t like that there’s a walker sitting in our living room, waiting for Michael to change his mind about using it. And do you see? All these “I don’t likes” are a big problem aren’t they? That’s why I need help. I need the Lord to change my attitude every day, sometimes many times a day, so I will whip the selfish-poor-me lenses off my face and put the look-how-blessed-you-are-to-be-able-to-pour-out-love-on-your-husband lenses back on. Sometimes I do look through those latter lenses, and everything comes into focus. How much Jesus loves Michael and wants to show that love through me. How fortunate we are that we work in our home with two remarkable Fosters who are like family. How rich we are to have the history we have, the children and grandchildren we have. How the Lord is a refuge to us and a very present help in trouble. (Psalm 46).

So I loved the movie. It portrayed the frustration the husband Craig had with his wife’s forgetfulness and diminishing personality. We saw him snap at her, feel so remorseful, and lovingly apologize. We saw the fruits of decades of faithfulness. We saw how he realized that this was going to be their road, and all the practical (if not misunderstood and quirky) things he did for Irene to smooth it out for her.

Yes, I cried. And I also felt very encouraged. I want to be like Craig (played by James Cromwell, who was amazing). If you aren’t daunted by a slow, thoughtful and touching movie, you might want to see it!

Changing topics now, lovely little Louisa will be arriving in a few minutes, and I’ll be watching her today. She is walking all over the place at fourteen months, eating up a storm, being a fan of peanut butter, red bell peppers, all pastas and tomato-ey things, laughing easily at her three older siblings’ antics, and reaching for Grandma every time she sees me. I like that just a little bit. 🙂

Here’s a picture of Michael and me, taken last week. He’s still mine. And I’m still his.

And here’s a quote I read recently that applies to the movie we saw last night, to our own situation, and maybe it will apply to something you’re experiencing as well.

Love is not a vat that you fall into randomly. Love is saying I see everything about you, good and bad, and I am still committed to you. ~~ Tim Keller

Yes!

I hope your weekend is blessed, dear family and friends. What are your plans?

Thank you for stopping by here….

I don’t know if it’s because I just had surgery on some bones, but lately I’ve been thinking about bones. That would stand to reason, wouldn’t it? I mean, my right femur will never be the same. My right tibia and fibula are forever changed. And my patella, that little round disc of a bone? Thirteen weeks ago it had a piece attached to it that will never come off.

Lord-willing.

Anyway, for some reason the other day I was thinking about the scapula. You know what that is, don’t you? It’s your shoulder blade, your chicken wing. It’s that place on your upper back that feels so good when someone massages up under the inner muscles that surround it. Most of us have two of them.

Be honest with me now. Have you ever in your life carefully considered your two scapulae? I hope after you read this blog post, you’ll think about your scapulae in a new, awe-filled way. Because when I started thinking about what an amazing bone a scapula is, how odd and astoundingly complex and supremely functional it is, I was filled with awe. I sat there considering my scapulae and I said, “God, I can’t even get over You. You are amazing. You are brilliant. You are so kind! To carefully form such a wonderful bone so we can move our arms and shoulders and paint and hug and wave and stretch and be protected and gesture and swim! Thank you Lord. Thank you! I think the way You made scapulae is so marvelous I can’t think of anything else to say! Except thank you. And Lord, I want you to know I noticed today.”

If you have never seen exactly how the triangular scapula bone sits in a body, click here first before reading on.

Now take a long look at this illustration of the scapula, from three different angles:

Did you see the Glenoid cavity? How about that Acromial process? And the Supraspinous fossa? Wow! Who could design such a wonderful thing, if not God? Whoever knew that a weird looking triangular bone could inspire worship?

If you’re like me, you have a lot of things to think about today, aside from your shoulder blades. Bills, children, Syria, health concerns, troubles aplenty. But I invite you to consider your scapula. Take a moment right now and give thanks to God for thinking up such a bone, and carefully forming it as you grew in your mother all those years ago. Thank Him for the things you’re able to do just because you have two scapulae that help support other more notable bones.

That’s all. I wanted someone to join me in my thanks and awe today.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Every three or four months we take our Schnauzers to The Bad Lady. This is what they call Joyce, the groomer who has bathed and clipped our dogs for years.

Edith and Mildred call her The Bad Lady because she does things to them they don’t love. She pours water all over them and puts stinky smelling shampoo all over their hair (Schnauzers don’t have fur). She stands them up on a grooming table and keeps their chins lifted by a suspended collar so they can’t sit down or jump off. She squeezes them in humiliating places to empty certain glands. She uses a very loud buzzing thing all over their little Schnauzery bodies to take all the warm hair off. She uses a clipper on their nails and it snaps loudly when the bits fly. And she plucks the hair from the insides of their ears. Edith and Millie prefer not to visit The Bad Lady.

But alas, their mama and daddy want them to go. They come back smelling clean and fresh. They always look a little too severe sleek at first, but in a couple of weeks their hair will grow a bit.

When eleven year-old Edith (below) gets too fluffy, we think she looks like the Sesame Street wolf. When she comes back from The Bad Lady, we think she looks a bit alien, and has bat ears. Here are before and after pictures:

And seven year-old Mildred (below) always looks the same, whether fluffy or shaved: disturbed. Millie is our troubled dog, with multiple personality quirks that make her simultaneously hysterical and annoying.

They always zip around jubilantly when we pick them up from The Bad Lady’s house. They’re so thrilled to be home, and they whisper to each other when we’re not looking, “Whew! Now we can relax for another three months!”

Do your pets talk like ours do?

“Today we sing songs that are so dishonest that I sometimes hesitate to sing them. Yet when we sing the average hymn, if God Almighty compelled us to be entirely 100 percent honest, we simply could not sing them because their words would not be true of us…it is only by a charitable adaptation of the truth that we are able to sing most of the hymns we sing.”

– A.W. Tozer, Living As A Christian

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To be perfectly honest, when I read this quote by Aiden Wilson Tozer, I had to admit that I’ve thought the same thing when I’m in church. Singing songs about my devotion to the Lord when my flame is burning pretty low…

Have you ever had similar thoughts?

Early yesterday morning I drove down to Stillwater, MN to see my orthopedic surgeon for probably the last time. Dr. Palmer checked my eleven weeks post-op knee, pronounced me graduated, and wished me well. His assistant Karen gave me his thank-you note, along with a bar of Godiva dark chocolate for the drive home.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes a song gets under my skin and I like to listen to it over and over until I feel ready to be done with it. I hadn’t listened to this Amy Grant CD in years, and I grabbed it right before I left the house yesterday morning. I did listen to the whole CD as I headed south, but the one song I listened to at least twenty times during the five and a half hours I drove, was “Anywhere With Jesus.” Have you heard it? Michael loves this song too, and we used to turn it up loud when we were in the car together, and sing along almost at the top of our lungs. That’s a good memory for me.

I put the lyrics down below so you can follow along as you listen….

Anywhere With Jesus by Jessie B. Pounds (in the 1800s)

Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go
Anywhere He leads me in this world below
Anywhere without Him dearest joys would fade
Anywhere with Jesus I am not afraid

Anywhere, anywhere
Any little fear I’ll never know
Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go

Anywhere with Jesus I am not alone
Other friends will fail me He is still my own
Though His hand may lead me over drearest ways
Anywhere with Jesus is a house of praise

Anywhere, anywhere
Any little fear I’ll never know
Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go

Anywhere with Jesus I can go to sleep
When the dark and shadows ’round about me creep
Knowing I shall waken nevermore to roam
Anywhere with Jesus will be home sweet home

Anywhere, anywhere
Any little fear I’ll never know
Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go
Anywhere with Jesus I can surely go

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I wonder sometimes if I’m the only one who does that. Do you ever want to hear a particular song over and over again? If you can relate, what song has gotten under your skin in that way?

Last Christmas, one of the presents I received from Sara was a gift certificate to the nail salon where she occasionally has her nails done. My fingernails grow quickly and I’m always cutting them, but I decided a couple of weeks ago that eight months was long enough to wait before using my certificate. (The last time I had my nails professionally done was in late 2007.)

Sara told me which nail techs she felt were the best, and I set off one morning for My One Appointment Of The Day. Since my knee replacement surgery, I’ve tried to schedule only one thing each day so I can make resting, icing, elevating and healing a priority. There are actually several days on my calendar that are blank, and those are the days I look toward heaven and say, “Thank you, Lord!” Part hermit, part agoraphobic, I guess.

Anyway, when I arrived at the small nail salon it was packed. There were at least seven people doing nails, and there were five customers before me. Since I had an appointment I only had to wait about 15 minutes, though.

Juan asked me what I wanted done and I told him “a French manicure with gel,” just like Sara recommended. Apparently the gel protects your nail polish from chipping and a manicure can last up to three weeks. Here’s what my nails look like today:

Juan painted the white tips on my fingernails and covered everything with a thick gel, and I like the look! Not too long, not too short, nothing really gaudy. Although I see so many women wear colors on their nails no one wore when I was young! Check out this, and this! I might go have my nails done once again before I fly to Seattle in 22 days for The Second Annual Lupi-Soo Convention, but a manicure isn’t something I would normally fit into my regular schedule or budget, so another six years may pass before I have another one.

If I were to splurge on one thing for myself, I think it would be to have regular massages. I love getting a massage. And I know it’s not just for the pleasure of it anymore — studies show the many benefits of massage and I’m a firm believer in them for mental and physical health reasons. Even just one fifteen minute massage on my knee makes a world of difference. Alas, I don’t splurge on myself much (unless I count the books I buy!), so a professional massage might be on my schedule only once a quarter, if that.

If you could regularly splurge without guilt or concern on one thing for yourself, what would it be? Regular manicures? Weekend getaways? Dining out three times a week? A swimming pool?

I look forward to reading your comments…  🙂