I Walk the Line

This is not a Johnny Cash tribute. Sorry if you're disappointed

At work today, I entered in to a discussion with a gentleman about our busy lives. Both of us agreed that we enjoyed being busy and the variety our particular jobs gave us. In fact, we both remarked how impressed we were with those who have to face the same task day in, day out such as assembly line workers, medical transcriptionists, etc. Those kind of jobs would drive us crazy.

This got me to thinking how exhilarating and stimulating I find my work (most of the time). But I've also noticed it's a fine line between exhilarated and overwhelmed. And I've been spending a lot of time on the wrong side of the line. Additionally, jumping back and forth over that line is pretty exhausting, as well.

I've been told it's all about choices. And tonight I made what is seemingly an odd choice.

I had signed up for a Stress Management Class at work. The class is being held the next four Wednesday evenings. I hoped I could learn some techniques to help me handle the stresses (job, home, personal, etc) of my life. But as the time for the class approached and the thought of the next four Wednesday nights being taken from me, I started to get stressed. So I didn't go tonight and I won't be attending at all.

I stayed on the right side of the line...tonight, anyway.

Born to Pun

A comment on a recent post chided me for my puns. My response...with a last name like Best, baby I was born to pun.

Example: a few years ago, my sister Cassie was visiting. One evening as we were preparing for bed, she glanced out the window and mentioned that it was a "Brucie" moon. "Brucie moon????", I asked. Cassie explained that before I was born or when I was very little and too young to remember (Cassie is 5 years older than me, Jean 7-1/2 years older, and Bruce(ie)is 10 years older) our Mom named the different stages of the moon based on age. Bruce was the full moon, Jean the half moon, Cassie the quarter moon. So I asked, what was a Barbie moon? She didn't know if there was one. I then proceeded to show her a Barbie moon by "mooning" her.

A few months later during a family gathering someone used the word moon, which sent Cassie into a laugh attack, recalling my "moon walk". This prompted a retelling of the tale. Bruce then started laughing so hard his lips turned blue. But he was able to spit out "That was no moon. That was a planet...the planet Uranus."; to which I replied, "Bruce, I'm tired of being the butt of your jokes."

It's genetic. I cannot be held responsible.

Sibling Rivalry

Dogs show dominance in many ways. One such method is by urinating in the place another dog has gone. I guess this is a case of "she who pees last, pees loudest...".

Grace is definitely top dog in our household for many reasons, but this (literal) "P*ssing" contest has risen to a ridiculous level.

When I got home from work tonight, I let the dogs out in the yard, as usual. Grace chased Dora around the yard waiting for her to relieve herself so Grace could immediately relieve herself in the same spot. Poor Dora had not a moments peece.

On The 8th Day God Created Snacks

In my Pre-Schoolers' Sunday School class, we've been studying creation and in an effort to reinforce the lesson, I've been trying to tailor the snack with the lesson - apples for day three, gingerbread men for day 6, etc. On two particularly inspired occasions, I served Lucky Charms cereal (hearts, MOONS, STARS, and clovers...) and FROSTED animal crackers (I figured things were particularly sweet prior to the fall).

I'm concerned that I'm having fun and gaining a lot of satisfaction in my snack choices and I may be spending more time choosing the snack than preparing the lesson.

You Know Your Diet Needs Help When...

...the most vegetables you've eaten in the last month consisted of the tomato sauce on your pizzas, and the sauerkraut on your Reuben sandwiches.

A Love Note

Years ago I called my parents desperate for money. They mailed me a check with the enclosed note. The first line is from my Mom. The next from my Dad. The note hung on my refrigerator for years. During a visit, my sister Cassie (begrudgingly, it seems) added the last line. This is something I'll treasure forever, and I wanted to share it with my blog friends.

A Very Spooky Story

With the weather turning very fall-like, I thought it would be nice to do some baking. There was a new recipe for Layered Pumpkin Bread from Kraft Foods that I was wanting to try.

When I went grocery shopping last week, I purchased all the necessary ingredients, including a package of Neufchatel cheese.

On Tuesday evening, I did my baking and the bread turned out to be delicious. I recommend you try this recipe out. Because of the cream-cheese layer, it's a little more special than your normal Pumpkin Bread, and it doesn't require any added spreads like butter.

But here's the SPOOKY part. This evening, I reached in to the refrigerator for something when I noticed the package of Neufchatel cheese I'd just purchased on Saturday. And since I have no recollection - recent, near recent, or otherwise - of any other purchases of Neufchatel or cream cheese of any kind, HOW OLD WAS THAT PACKAGE I'D USED??????

Murphy's Laws on Meatloaf

1. The chances of dropping the chopped onion on the floor is directly proportional to the number of onions you have left.

a. Corollary: The chances of said onion dropping in a pile of dog hair is directly proportional to the need for said (last) onion to the tastiness of the recipe.

2. The chances of noticing you forgot an ingredient after you've already started mixing the meatloaf with your hands is directly proportional to the goopieness of the mixture.

I'll let you know how it tasted later.

I am Doubly Blessed

I found this old clipping while cleaning out my spare room.

Feels Like Winter

If "to everything there is a season" then I'm in winter. And my experience with Erie weather tells me sometimes winter can last nine months. I know that there are some days that are colder than others and there is an occasional warm, sunny day thrown in; but winter in Erie...you don't expect much. And as the winter drags on you begin to dread getting out of bed.

Such is the way I feel right now.

I'm tired of the dark, lonely days of winter. The iciness cuts into my bones, making it hard to stand against the frigid blasts of cruelty and selfishness, the sting of accusations against my cheeks. I know there's the sure hope of spring and summer, but they seem such a long way off and I'm cold today.

I don't know how to pray. Should I pray for a shortened winter? Should I pray for a warm coat and hat to get me through this emotional winter? At times, I feel tempted to take matters in to my own hands and just crank the thermostat of anger and revenge way up. But there's a cost to that, which I'm not willing to pay. I thank God for His wisdom in understanding this. But I can't make any guarantees that I won't slip on the slick sidewalks of temptation and fall flat on my face.

I guess this is where grace comes in to play; the God-granted ability to navigate the snowy obstacle courses without slipping, sliding and falling. Surely the hinds running through the high places encountered snow on those mountain tops. At least I'm on the flat grounds of Erie.

Come spring. Come Lord Jesus.

The Burgeoning Storm

A storm brews inside of me.

My barometer falls

While the pressure inside me builds.

My heart is ready to release its torrent of anxiety

And destroy whatever is in its path.

How does one stop the onslaught?

How does one hold back the wind and the rain?

Left unchecked, it will uproot me

Leaving me to wither and die

And become but tinder.

Rescue me, Lord.

Save me from the cyclone.

Shelter me from the wicked winds.

Keep me dry and rooted

In the security of Your arms.

-Anonymous

The Heart of a Parent

The last 12 Octobers, my thoughts drift and dwell on my Mom. It's only natural since she died October 30, 1994. Today, I remembered a time in 1979, when I took a job at Conneaut Lake Amusement Park for the summer. The job required me to live at the park-supplied housing, which was not all that great. The work as a ride operator was less than challenging, the hours were demanding, the working conditions horrid, and often required the assistance of "Ecology Boys" to clean up after accidents. I HATED IT.

The morning after my first day, I called my mom sobbing, asking her to come get me. She told me things would get better and that I had to stick it out. The job didn't really get better, but I did stick it out and eventually, I no longer cried myself to sleep, made some friends and learned to deal with it. )In fact, that was my first up close and personal experience with Christians.) My dad later told me my mom said it was one of the hardest things she ever had to do.

Of late, I find myself asking God to come get me. Things here on earth are less than ideal. People are mean. Life can be so incredibly lonely. I want, I need the safety and comfort of my Father's House. But He tells me to wait. Things will get better, He promises; but in His time, not mine. And I think that even though He knows the outcome, it must hurt him to see His children suffer.

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.