Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Violation

Today I discovered that someone has used my debit card, or rather used both Bear’s and mine. The transactions only add up to about $20, but that’s not the point. Someone has been getting in and I feel violated, privacy lost, security stifled, angry, depressed and just plain cranky.

For the record, I have cancelled both cards, alerted the bank and contacted the merchants to whom the transactions were supposedly made. One of them said it couldn’t have been them, they don’t take credit cards, one was a discontinued phone number and the other one had a full mailbox and couldn’t take any more messages. Hmm, strange…

I know that I didn’t take a hop over to Pistakee Heights, NY and get something printed, but someone used my debit card there and I don’t appreciate it. I don’t know how to snap out of this funk I am in, I’m short with the kids, cranky and downright down. I feel like smashing something!

When we were in SC, I lost the page that I photocopied from home that had all my passwords and logins for all my online accounts and now this. We just got a large amount of money and I feel like digging a hole in my backyard and burying it all.

EDITED TO ADD: Mrs Grits and I were having an email conversation and she commented that this kind of stuff just consumes your life when it happens. I think that this is the most annoying part of it all. Things that I took for granted, my debit card for instance, or the way that I pay some of my bills, my insurance company automatically withdraws from my account, makes me scared and upset. I can't even think coherantly right now. I'm constantly trying to figure out where my credit card number is floating. Did I use it there and the site wasn't secure? What about people looking over my shoulder at the ATM, can it be scanned in the parking lot when I'm using it inside a store? Am I being paranoid? Do I go back to cash only? I know some people who do that but what about things that I can't get locally? I do a fair bit of shopping on line, and in my scrapbooking business I place orders on line and take credit cards. How can I be sure that everything is safe. Argh!!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Belated Mother's Day Treasure

Just today in the mail I received a treasure I thought I would never get. I had held out hope for years that it would come, but it never did. I had given up and turned toward other ventures, forgetting that I had started something nearly 20 years ago. Today was the beginning of the gift I had read that other mothers often receive. The gift is this, “…her children will rise up and call her blessed.”

In the mail was a Mother’s Day note from my 19 year old son, a tribute to his mother. Here is what he thinks of his mom. (In his own words, complete with spelling errors, apparently I didn’t do too well in the spelling-teacher department.)

“A mom is:

A friend, companion, cradle rocker, hug giver, cooky baker, girl scout leader, business woman, band-aid giver, guardian, listener of stories, songs and dreams; nurse, doctor, maker of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, spilt milk wiper-upper, hair braider, molder of personalities, chief chef, laundry service, teacher, coach, play mate, wiper of noses and tears, calmer of fears, healer of cuts and scrapes, bedtime story reader, quicker-picker-upper, home work helper, dance instructor, singer, mender of broken hearts and bruised egos, chauffeur, potty-trainer, story teller, bed-time tucker-inner, rich, full of soul, problem-solver, shopping partner, sharrer of secrets, laborer, lagher [laugher], spider-killer, diaper-changer, driving instructor, side kick, partner for life, wise beyond her years, hand holder, fashion consultant, advise-giver, role model, authority figure, peer, love.

Thanks Mom, Love “Gadget-Boy” Happy Mother’s Day 5/11/2008”

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Where am I?


Just a picture…because I have a serious fabric addiction and company coming to stay this weekend and this is the guest bed.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

For Whom the Truck Tolls

Today Bear walked with Robby out to put some stuff in the truck after church, it was high noon and the bells in the bell tower started ringing.
Bear asked Robby, "What was that?" He replied in his all-knowing 4 year old voice, "It's an ice cream truck, Daddy!"
Um, no, not exactly.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

4-H Modeling and the Wardrobe Malfunction

Kristen over at We are THAT family has a blogging carnival going on Thursdays, and she asked for bloggers to share a story from our past, something that won't probably make it into a scrapbook because we can't find our crinkle-cut scizzors or some mouse peed on the pictures or whatever reason.
Apron Queen also has a carnival goin on called Vintage Thingies Thursday, I thought since I am so good at multi-tasking, I'd roll two posts into one and call this story both; an embarrassing story from my past as well as vintage. Now if you think that those bangs aren't vintage, and that, "Oh My! Would you look at that zipper!" I don't know what is!
So, this is my story...

Fall 1978, it was the beginning of my modeling “career.” It all began at the Western Idaho Fair, on the exhibitor’s building main stage, or rather behind the main stage. There I was waiting for an absolutely dreamy Junior Future Farmers of America member to escort me onstage to model, or rather, show off for my friends, I mean, the judges, my latest sewing creation.

Mom had purchased me the-niftiest-shoes-imaginable from the JC Penney Catalog. They had thick rubber soles with two slits going through the thickness from right to left, one under the arch and one under the ball of my foot. Through these slits you could insert white straps or brown straps and snap them into place with a heavy-duty snap. My choice for the day was white. In hindsight, and remembering now that it was after Labor Day, maybe if I had chosen the brown straps and not committed such an obvious fashion faux pas, the following story wouldn’t be an embarrassing part of my history.

Like I said, there I was waiting for that foxy Jr. FFA dreamboat to escort me up the steps and onto the stage for my turn. I rehearsed it all in my head, I was to cross the stage in a “w”, head to the front mark, pivot on my left foot, head to the back of the stage, left-foot pivot, back to the front, pivot and off to the stairs on the opposite side of the stage, where the dreamboat-in-waiting would escort me down the stairs. The judges sat with their tables even with the level of the stage so they could see every detail of our sewing and how we carried ourselves with all the poise and grace an 11-year old could muster in her pre-pubescent-awkward body.

My turn. Dreamy offered me his arm, and up the steps I trod, stopping to smile at the judges, went to the front mark, pivot, gracefully gliding to the back mark, pivot, back to the front, pivot-SNAP! The adorable-change-the-look-of-your-shoe-wardrobe strap came undone! Right in front of the judges, and only 10 strides away from Jr. FFA Dreamboat, who by this time in my mind had already asked me to the prom! Ugh! Major wardrobe malfunction! Gag me with a spoon, I was going to absolutely DIE right there! Mortified, I turned and step-slop, step-slopped my way to the stairs and took the arm of Mr. Dreamy himself, who now looked more like an embarrassed puppy dog.

My 11-year old world was shattered, spinning out of control all for what? A pair of shoes! Sandals that I had thought were the answer to too many shoes in the closet. HA! I know now the error of that kind of thinking; trust me! But I digress; I anxiously awaited the decision by the judges. I already knew that my sewing had brought me a gold ribbon, and I wanted another gold ribbon to go beside it. It was my best project ever; I had done it all by myself; topstitching and everything! But because of my vain love of a cute pair of sandals, it was all going down, I tell ya! Silver was the best I could do modeling, maybe even, (gasp, dare I say it?) BRONZE! No! Not that!

Time ticked slowly by while the rest of my friends modeled their creations, they had wisely chosen sturdy oxfords to wear with their outfits. Then we were to meet back in an hour for the results. Could I even live that long? Surely by now, Mr. Dreamy thought I was the clumsiest oaf in the whole state of Idaho.

We went back to the exhibitor’s building to return our outfits to be displayed for the remaining days of the fair, and there it was; hanging next to my first place gold ribbon for sewing; a beautiful rosette ribbon, a full four inches longer than its cousin, in GOLD! The judges had smiled on me. They had sympathized with my wardrobe malfunction; they were after all women; women who understood the importance of cute shoes.

Too much all at once?

We've been working on prayers and manners at our house. Asking the blessing on the food and remembering those who are hurting in our family; and also remembering to ask to be excused from the table, removing your own plate, etc.

Last night at dinner Ace remembered. He had asked the blessing on the food before dinner, and when he was finished with his dinner this was his response, (I think directed at me,) "Dear God, thank you for this food, may I be excused?"

Maybe we should work on only one thing at a time?

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Dilemma of the Day

Found on sidewalk: one purple gellpen. Obviously abandoned and in need of of a good owner to care for, use and to cherish.

New owners found, two girls, one writ-ey, one draw-y.

New dilemma, how to share one 3-inch purple gellpen?

Gellpen confiscated. Sigh...
 

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