The Man of My Dreams

Like Father like Son

My father is a manly man. He was a City of Pittsburgh Fire Fighter who raced in to burning buildings to rescue people. He's a shot and a beer sort who had a history of putting up his dukes to anyone who would use certain foul language (the "f-word" for one)in front a his wife or children. He's got a deep, masculine voice. So it's absolutely hilarious to hear him giggle.

When he's telling a story that strikes him (but not always those to whom he's telling the story) as especially funny, his normal laugh raises a few octaves to a high-pitched giggle! Even funnier is when my brother, Bruce (almost as manly as his father) starts laughing at Daddy's laugh. Bruce's laugh progresses from a deep manly laugh to a higher pitched "whoo-whoo", to a silent struggle to breath. I've actually seen him start to turn blue! This, of course, leads everyone else in the family in to deep belly laughs.

In my family, we don't need to exercise. Laughing is an aerobic experience.

Parts is Parts

The hospital where I work belongs to a Group Purchasing Organization (GPO) who negotiates contracts collectively for all it's members, thus allowing smaller institutions to garner volume pricing. The contracts run the gamut of medical products, furniture, plumbing supplies, and food. Anything a hospital might need.

Today, I was reviewing a contract update listing some new or revised contracts for various product categories - Urological products, Nebulizers, Masks, and...Further Processed Chicken. Further Processed Chicken? Not just Processed Chicken?

I think I'm going on a "no chicken" diet - processed, further processed or otherwise.

________As If There's No Tomorrow

My house has been a wreck for months. I can't remember the last time I dusted or did any type of cleaning other than a cursory pickup. But today, I've been cleaning/dusting/picking up/throwing out like a storm! In fact, I was just thinking to myself that I'm cleaning as if there were no tomorrow. Which begs the question, if there were no tomorrow, why would I spend today cleaning?

A Belated Birthday Wish

Yesterday was my blog's 2nd birthday. And in my true fashion, I'm a day late in wishing it a happy birthday.

I've enjoyed my blogging experience. It's given me a forum to share my stories and to express myself. Blogging has challenged my writing abilities. Prior to this, my writing talents had been confined to memos and policies where my vocabulary is limited to what the average hospital worker can understand.

The title of this blog was suggested to me back in high school, where my English teacher enjoyed my humor. She suggested I write a book and call it Barb's Best (she especially liked my puns). Well, 28 years post-high school and I'm not on the NY Times Best Seller List. But some people I like and admire have my blog linked to theirs. What's the NY Times know, anyhow?

Happy Birthday, Barb's Best! You've now entered the Terrible Two's.

An Economical Beauty Tip

A new treatment for dry, flakey lips and wrinkles around the corners of your mouth - eat corn-on-the-cob with lots of butter and salt. The salt exfoliates and the butter moisturizes. It's especially effective if you're a messy eater.

My Nest is Emptying; I Didn't Even Know it Was Full

Christopher D is moving up to the next Sunday School level this year. After 3-1/2 years of meeting with him every Sunday morning, I'm going to miss the little guy (really, Ray & Jane - I will).

Today, during worship service, the full impact of this fact hit me - all these kids are growing up and moving on and I'm left behind.

My Barblings are 13, 10 and 9; busy with their various activities, I don't see them as often as I used to. And when I do, I'm no longer the main attraction. I'm not needed for baby-sitting and the allure of an overnight stay at Miss Barb's has been replaced by slumber parties with friends.

This is not unusual, I know. Millions of parents experience this. But as a single, childless woman, I'm not prepared for the sufferings of "empty nest syndrome". Barren womb - yes; empty nest - who'd have thought it.

There are many other children coming through the ranks - Olympia, Joseph, Timothy, Lily, Anneke, and new ones joining them - Josiah, Malachi, Owen. They're wonderful kids, and I love all of them, but they can't replace the ones moving on.

And somehow, I feel like I'm getting hit with more than my share of empty nest suffering without the benefits of parenthood.

I know, I know...I don't have the responsibilities of parenthood, either. In no way do I mean to imply that I'm suffering any more than the next person. But I love the kids and take my small role in their lives very seriously. And I never expected this as a part of being single.

Quote of the Day

"The only thing worth stealing is a kiss from a sleeping child."

-Joe Holdsworth

I might add that it's also worth stealing one from an awake child, as well; provided he's not too sticky.

The Measure of a Friend

Around March I attended a Pampered Chef party hosted by my friend Elizabeth. It seemed that after every item the demonstrator displayed, I would comment "I have that; but I never use it." This brought back memories of the very first Pampered Chef party I ever attended - about 15 years ago.

A co-worker invited me to attend the party with her. And after every demonstration of pie-related paraphernalia, Karen would say, "I have that." and "I bought that." etc, etc, etc. After about eight "I-have-that's", Karen turned to me and said "Of course I never bake pies."

A month after the party, Karen came in to work with a picture of a beautiful 2-crust apple pie that she had baked. She took a picture and had it developed (remember this was the pre-digital age) as proof to her friends that she had actually baked a pie (using all her pie utensils, of course).

Flash forward to March, 2007. At Elizabeth's Pampered Chef party, they demonstrated a utensil I did not have and had never seen before. It was a really cool adjustable measuring spoon. I had to have one and I figured Karen could use one as well, so I ordered two. When I received the order, I put Karen's spoon to the side, waiting for the chance to mail it to her at her Texas home. Before that could happen, though, Dora found it and chewed it to bits.

Because I really wanted Karen to have one, I reordered another. For various reasons, the order did not come in until last week. Elizabeth gave it to me at church on Sunday and I carried it in my purse until Thursday, when I realized it might get broken. So I put it on the dining room table with the intention of mailing it on Saturday. I even found a nice little box in which to mail it. However, when I came home from work last evening, I found spoon #2 in chewed up pieces on the living room floor.

I think I'm just going to send my own measuring spoon to Karen. I really think she'll like it and besides...I don't really use mine.

A Twist on Tennyson

Tennyson once wrote "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Is this true? Or more to my own experience, is it "better to have loved and lost than never to have been loved at all"?

I know I've been loved - by my family, my friends and even, as much as they are able, my dogs. But obviously, these are not the love relationships to which I am referring.

I've known people who've been in: good relationships, bad relationships, good relationships turned bad, good relationships that turned bad that turned good, bad breakups, and all the other possible combinations. I don't know if relationships are worth the agony they can bestow. I have no personal experience, and so my mind and heart are overwhelmed with questions, the loudest of which is - is it better to have loved and lost than never to have been loved at all? I've been told by people (who I assume are trying to make me feel better) that this is God's protection. I think it's just sad and lonely.

If anybody has any wisdom to impart, I'm open.

Age Spots

I've noticed in recent years that the veins in my hands are more prominent. In an article I recently read, a dermatologist explained that this is a sign of aging. Apparently, the hands are one area that actually lose fat as one gets older.

Many of the aging signs mentioned in the aforementioned article have been concerns for me - neck-creep, frown lines, the lines from my nose to my mouth... to the extent that I have thought that if I had the disposable income and could stomach the idea of needles in my face, I might seriously consider Botox. In fact, I have read enough on the subject that I actually know that those lines from my nose to the corners of my mouth are called naso-labial folds.

However, despite their age-related cause, I actually like the prominent veins and tendons in my hands. I've found myself flexing my hands in such a way as to make them appear. It wasn't until a few days ago that I understood why I liked them so much. As I was hugging one of the Barblings, I realized my mother's hands were like this. This is how her hands looked when she hugged me, held my hand, stroked my head. I remember those tendons and veins popping out as she mixed meatloaf and stuffing (with her hands, of course), as she turned pages in the books she read, as she sewed buttons on my blouses.

I'm not much like my mother in her temperament - she was much calmer than I, better organized, a better listener, a better housekeeper. But if all I've gotten from her are her hands, I show them off proudly.

1:09:35

I participated in my first ever bike race on Saturday, along with the Barblings 3, in the Highmark Quad Competition. I finished 341 out of 369 competitors; the majority of the 28 people I "beat" were under the age of 12 and I highly suspect that the adult contingent of those 28 were parents of the under 12 set, who faithfully stayed with their children. I, on the other hand, left my Barbling #2 behind - but I'll save that story for another day. The point is that all of us finished and did better than we ever expected.

BTW - Dad Lane finished in a blazing 40:28 (and thought he should have done better) and then turned around and rode with Barbling #3 to the finish; then turned around again to find Barbling #2 and ride her to the finish. Mom Lane, the wisest of the group, was team photographer.

Finally, another member of Faith Reformed, Elder Swanson (by virtue of his office, not his age) also competed and blew us all off the road at 37:13.

Next year, I think we should have a Faith Reformed team. Anyone else care to sign up?

Quote for the Day

"Humility is like underwear; essential, but indecent if it shows." -Helen Nielson

It's a Book Thing

Check out this cool site, Library Thing. You can catalog up to 200 books from your own private library for free. A paid subscription allows you to catalog an unlimited number of books.

There's a feature that compares your library to that of other members, makes recommendations for books that you don't have (is that even possible for some of my blog audience???), allows you to write reviews and many other features.

Part of me suspects this is a "right/left-wing conspiracy" to collect information about me to be used during some future coup attempt and add me to an Enemy of the State list. But truly, when they look at my library, I'm sure they'll pass me buy. Just how threatening is a person reading "Leslie Linsley's Weekend Decorating" and "150 Ways to Play Solitare"?

Ecclesiates & Grocery Shopping

A few weeks ago I was struck with a profound spiritual thought in the produce section of Giant Eagle...out of season fruit & vegetables are just more indicators of man's vain and sinful nature.

Ecclesiastes says "there is an appointed time for everything...a time to give birth and a time to die.". Yet we have abortion and assisted suicide to choose times to die and elective c-sections to choose the most convenient time and method for birth.

Despite Ecclesiastes' statements about weeping and mourning, we seem to take it as a violation of our rights if we aren't laughing and dancing

There is "a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted" - but we humans, in our arrogance, feel we're entitled to winter squash in summer and strawberries in December.

Like those in Babel, we're manipulating things in such a way as to think we have all the power. Even Christians are being subtly influenced by things like medicine and out of season produce where we no longer recognize our God who gave us such things, and could very easily take them away, if He so chooses.

So does this mean I sinned when I bought those pears sitting in my fridge? I don't think so. And I probably won't be passing up any fresh strawberries in December. But hopefully, I will appreciate my God who allowed such things, and my faith in Him and love for Him will not hinge on the availability of fresh spinach.

My Mid-Life Cliche

With my 46th birthday fast approaching, I did the stereotypical mid-life crisis thing...I bought a convertible.

Adult Conversation

I recognize that many of my readers are stay-at-home moms (or aunt nannies) and that you often crave adult conversation. However, as one who participates in adult conversation for at least 40 hours per week, I find I crave the sound of anything BUT adults when I'm home.

There is something truly energizing when I walk in the door and say "Did you bark at the mailman today?" or "Let me scratch those cute, floppy ears." I can actually feel the weight of the world lift from my shoulders when I carry on such conversations. And this is not just with the dogs, either. It happens when I'm speaking with your kids at Sunday School or "Gardner Parties", as well.

Just goes to prove that moderation in all things, including conversation, is best.

Happy Birthday, Sir Laurence Olivier

On the commute home today, I was listening to an NPR piece about Sir Laurence Olivier. Today would have been his 100th birthday.

During the report, they featured a classic clip from the movie "Marathon Man" where he played a crazy Nazi dentist who was drilling Dustin Hoffman's teeth. Listening to the actors and the drill, I could actually smell the burning odor of freshly drilled teeth! Then I realized I was driving by Ricardo's Restaurant and they were having their outdoor BBQ Rib Sale.

But I would still have smelled the burning odor even if I hadn't been driving by Ricardo's. He was that great of an actor.

Hey, I Resemble This Remark!

"The maxim, 'Nothing avails but perfection,' may be spelled shorter: 'paralysis.'"

-Winston Churchill

A Sign of the Times

During the Easter season I often see references to Pontious Pilate - Pilate's thoughts, Pilate's actions. Only I often (honestly, more often than not) read it as Pilates (pi-lah-teez) - the exercise.