Posts Categorized: Self-Control

Look What I Found on My Front Porch!

I’ve gotten in to the unfortunate habit, lately, of waiting until Thursday afternoon, or evening, to write up a new post. I’ll have had an idea and been thinking about it for a few days, but I haven’t put fingertips to keyboard until late. Then, I end up not getting to bed until 1:00 a.m. or later, because I write it, and I edit it, and I need photos and search for them, and then have to scan them and get them put in where I want them, and then edit again because I always miss something, and then send it off to Kevin to look at, but by then he’s gone to bed and won’t read it until morning, and I MUST STOP DOING THAT!!! It is not a good professional practice.

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Happy Anniversary to Me!

Cup-cake-pink-candle-1

One year ago tomorrow, I wrote a Facebook post announcing my blog. It’s my one year anniversary! I said I would write new posts each week and put them up on Fridays. And I did.  At the beginning, four posts were already up, for Jeremy to work with as he got the website ready. So, if you visited the website that very first Friday, it had more than one lonely post that you could read.

This is a screen shot of the database-all full!

This is a screen shot of the database-all full!

I’ve made a database, to track the posts and what Bible verses I reference and which fruit of the Spirit I use. The program will only hold 54 entries, so it’s full and won’t let me add any more. I had to start a new one, for Year Two (plus the last two posts from the first year).

 

 

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Throwback Thursday

I’ve mentioned before that I volunteer at an elementary school near my church. I’m a “Reading Club” sponsor, which means I go every week at lunchtime and read with three girls. Lunch is only 30 minutes, and we chat a little bit too, so it’s slow going through Dear Mr. Henshaw, which was the Newberry award winning book in 1984. Also, I’m having to stop and do some explaining every now and then.

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It. Was. Not. My. Fault.

 

I’ve been doing this blog thing for eight months now, and I still make mistakes. I still have to call Kevin and/or Jeremy for help when things go amiss. But last week’s debacle was. not. my. fault. Truly. It wasn’t.

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Fabulous Kidney-Friendly Hot Cocoa

The fascinating Oxymoron craze crops up every now and then. It must be at a low point right now, otherwise I’d be seeing more lists of them on Facebook, like “10 Oxymorons That You Can Use at Work,” or “The Six Funniest Oxymorons Ever.” That sort of thing. I don’t know what those “10 Work-Related” or “Six Funniest,” might be, but now that I’ve brought it up, surely somebody will start working on them.

Anyway, if you missed one of the oxymoron surges in the past few years, oxymorons are common phrases that use words that are the opposite of each other. Like “Civil War,” because wars are anything but civil. And “Jumbo Shrimp,” because “jumbo” means “really big,” and “shrimp,” as slang, means “small.” You get the idea.

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Fuhngky Shui

I don’t know much about Feng Shui (fuhng shwey). We’ve just rearranged my office, which is also a guest room, and since there’s a treadmill in it, I guess it’s my workout room. (Maybe that’s putting a lot of pressure to be truly functional on a 10 x 10 ft. space.) I was curious about things that could help me be more productive. I went to Wikipedia, and they had a rather exhaustive page about it, lots of it in Chinese characters, so I still don’t know much about Feng Shui. I do know that it’s a philosophy about arranging furniture in homes and using some appropriate colors to increase harmony and prosperity and stuff like that.

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Problem Solved!

Last Sunday’s Bible story is one of my favorites (Acts 12:5-17). Peter was imprisoned for teaching about Jesus. His friends gathered and prayed in earnest for him. At the jail one night, everyone was sleeping soundly when an angel appeared and led Peter, free of his chains, out the jail door. Peter went right away to the house where his friends were and knocked on the door. A servant girl, Rhoda, went to the door and recognized Peter’s voice.

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Fa, la, la, la, lah, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, laaaaaaaahhhh!

On Facebook last week, someone posted a link to a blog by a woman who said that her Christmases in the 70’s were better than now. She talked about the cool toys she got and cool things she wore and the cookies and cupcakes and the memories. And how she hoped that the Christmases she was crafting for her own sons would be magical and extraordinary so they would have great memories, too.

I feel that way about Christmas in the 50’s. The way the house smelled with the real tree and the sugar cookies. The faux fireplace that Mother and Daddy made by covering Daddy’s knee-hole desk with brick-patterned crepe paper, where our stockings were hung. The tree-shaped sugar cookies that were slathered with green frosting. The way we got to open one gift on Christmas Eve, before we went to bed.

Of course the Christmases of our childhoods were better than now.

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Oh, No, Honey. Not THOSE Toys

We didn’t have Sunday School for kids last Sunday morning because the bikers were coming. Every year at church, we collect new toys for the Mission Waco Toy Store. Several churches participate, and on Thanksgiving weekend, local bikers (some are members of “Riders of the Son”) ride from church to church and pick up the toys. (They bring a trailer, too, for the toys, which is efficient, but keeps drivers around Waco from being able to see bikers guys and gals roaring around with Barbie dolls and Lego sets tucked under their arms.)

This year, an adult Sunday School class sponsored a time for parents and kids during the Sunday School hour to talk about Advent and giving and about the bikers’ ministry, and then the bikers came. They thundered into the parking lot and the kids got to meet the bikers and get close to those motorcycles (which are turned off at the time), and even sit on a bike. Then the bikers packed up all the toys we had donated, and blasted off to the next church.

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I Want That, and I Want That, and Oh, Wow, I REALLY Want That!

The Container Store. I guess, to those of you who don’t have one near you, or those of you who abhor shopping, those words don’t mean anything. And maybe if I had one, here in Waco, the draw might not be as strong, but almost every time I go to Fort worth, (or Austin or Dallas, or any other place that has one), it’s often (no, not absolutely always, just pretty often) on my list of places to go. It’s a store that sells goods that are designed to help you be/become organized. And it’s fabulous!!

When I walk through a Container Store, I just feel that “I can be organized. I can have control of all parts of my life. I can do this!”  And I’m bad about going there, even when I don’t have something in particular I need to purchase. I’m willing to just walk up and down the aisles and find something that I need very badly to help me organize my house, my garage, my room, my stuff, my life. And there’s always something I want. Not necessarily something I need, but always something I want. And that’s the problem.

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