Many Slices: my stories and photos

Last Post!

Well at least here at typepad that is.

That's right!

I have finally done what I have been gripping about for like a year and a half.

I am dropping the "typepad" of many slices and picking up "wordpress".

I figured I was already frustrated and mad at windows 8 so why not up the ante and bang my head over and over and over again trying to figure out exactly what "export/import" means?

Trying to get two completely blog fronts to "talk to eachother" is like trying to get the high school's cheer squad leader and the president of chess club to date.

Thanks to, of course  Mr.MS, it actually worked after a couple attempts and him spending time at home and work figuring it out :

two and a half years of the good, the bad, and the ugly on my blathering blog magically popped up at:

many slices.word press {see, same name}

My first post was today.

Learning new things on the computer has become my least favorite activity.

manyslices dot wordpress is still not close to how I want it. 

Well that's not true.  It's close, I just miss my cool stuff on the sidebars and for the life of me can't figure out how to put in a blog button or make my font bigger on my post.

{ i like writing big}

So for anyone who kinda thinks not everything I write is rubbish take note, up date, copy/paste whatever, and pop over to say: "Hi"

Cheers.

this message will self-destruct in 30 days

the joy of Retro & the wisdom of You've Got Mail

Its been a flashback, retro, "oh my gosh I remember that!"...kinda Winter.

Warm memories, like this torn antique quilt, have been keeping me warm and soothed during a long sickly Northeastern winter.

It all started when for Christmas I bought Mr.MS the Atari flashback plug-in console. Though it took us over a month to break it out, for the extremely pathetic reason that we kept forgetting to buy triple A batteries.{Really, nothing else we own requires triple A, and therefore we could not do the "swipe and insert" like we do with most electronics we want to use NOW}.

Once we did however, it was such a grin-wide and shake-your-head HOOT to hear the girls yell out "KILL THE SPIDER, KILL THE SPIDER!" to Centipede the way we used to scream during the long boring winter in the late 80s of my childhood.

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We stopped being so dang cheap and went back to getting the Netflix DVD- in the mail option. Our first DVD sent via mail to our porch mailbox:

Willow.

Remember Val Kilmer in that one? We were obsessed with that movie growing up.  The little ones could not get over the fact that midgets were real people!  Our favorite scene is still when Val Kilmer dresses up as a woman to evade a jealous irate husband, and when the husband busts in and takes a look at him dressed up with a stuffed dress, asks leeringly,

"wanna breed?"

Val replies in a horrible fake woman voice:

"temptiinng...but no"

The next 2 DVD's scheduled to ship out:

The Eewok Adventure & Jurassic Park {the first movie my younger brother and I were allowed to watch  by ourselves in the movie theater while my Mom went grocery shopping}.

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We are not totally vegging the Winter away with video games and movies.

There are books and music.

In the book corner:

I am so giddy and nostalgic over the second girl absolutely loving The American Girl series.  I was first introduced to the book series in 1989, which I believe, was near the initial release of the first books and of course exorbitantly priced dolls and accessories.

Remember Kirsten, Samantha, and Molly?

I was team Samantha.

She also dabbles in Sweet Vally Twins.

Which I devoured in the late 80s and probably a trifle too long into the 90s.

And in the song corner.

Elvis.

I am not combing through the zillion images of him on google cuz I know you all know what he looks like.

It came to my attention last week that the only perception they had of Elvis Presley was from an animated spoof based on him from Veggie Tales! I could not let that one lie.  So I youtubed "Jail House Rock" in technicolor.  The same girl who is bringing back the retro girl books found out there is an Elvis Presley channel on our XM and programmed it in, and listens to it all the time!  When her sister's friend was riding with us she asked if she knew who "Presley was"  {its so cute...instead of referring to him as "Elvis" liked everyone else she simple says "Presley"...I don't know why but I don't want her to stop, so I don't say anything}.

I now can't get "Suspicious Minds" out of my mind.

Singing along with The King, I realize that I totally love 1970s love ballads.

I forgot that I grew up listening to Elvis, Tom Jones, and Gary Puckett.

Or rather I grew up listening to my Dad sing them, which is why I know about two lines to like 100 hundred songs and no more, and those two lines, are often incorrect.

All this retro nostalgia reminds me so powerfully that it all those little passing things that make up a childhood.  Atari and giant bowls of cereal on early Saturday mornings, renting a VCR...that's right I typed out V  C  R ...cuz that is how we did it, on Friday nights to watched a stack of VHS tapes that reached my knee, and knowing that if my father came home with the window of his old pickup truck rolled down whistling "Deliah" by Tom Jones, it was a good day at the construction site.

My parents were not trying to make "wonderful family moments that will shape and better your children" I am pretty sure.

Just as I shared last post about what Mama did 

I really do not possess a large bag of meaningful and deep experiences of bonding with either one of my parents.

We did not take many vacations.

We joined zero groups, clubs, sports, till high school.

But as a parent now, certain objects or events will trip the wire of memory; long forgotten, buried in the dust of a thousand memories, waiting to be kicked up like a layer of dust on an old sofa.

I remember coversations around kitchen tables, always, always with food.

I remember laughing.

I remember the freedom to escape for hours in fields and trees.

My parents were always there.  Always available. Not always doing something or taking us somewhere  {with express intent of bettering us, their children of course}.

We do not raise our own children exactly as they did.

Do I scratch my head, with my now adult eyes, as I peer back at some of my parents' parenting styles and decisions?

Yep.

It just seems parents today are so worried.

Are heavily buried, and teetering over with too much information, geared too much toward accomplishing.  What they are told they should accomplish is a perfect kid.  Depending on your own social standing, ethnicity, religious beliefs, or what tax bracket you fall in, it's a constant niggling poking a parent's side.
A faint but persistent whisper of:

" Do A, B, & C and your kid will be a 1, 2, or 3, or at least decrease the chances of being one of those X,Y, and Zs"

That sinister yet seductive voice knows my mind, my fears, my vanities too well.  I find myself trying, trying like a woman possessed to accomplish what I am convinced separates me from those face-less "selfish" or "lazy" parents.

And yet.

I am learning the scandalous truth of simplicity, rest, and carefree. Without guilt!

I have told new parents over and over again that what my parents did, what we try to do, more than any parenting philosophy or Amazon best selling how-to:

is simply to love God, love your mate, love your kids more than yourself.

It's everyday, it's constant, it's humbling, it's full of " I've blown it again" but it will simplify your life, and give needed clarity at the needed time, for that needy family member, just when they need it.

Those big moments are never what you expect.  You never see them coming, and they will never be able to be duplicated. 

It's often simple and little.

But to quote Shopgirl of You've Got Mail {aka Kathleen Kelly aka Meg Ryan}:

"I just want you to know that all these little things, have been a very big something to me"

Cheers.

five minute friday:WHAT MAMMA DID

She served.

No one had to ask.

Seldom remembered to say "thank you"

Four girls, different and moody as can be.

The youngest son, King Luke, we'd call him.

Well who could help but spoil that boy?

The husband who provided by working so hard, so she knew that burden would never be hers.

The hot glowing wood stove on bitter January mornings for us to dress in front of.

Gallons of hot cocoa, mountains of peanut butter toast.

Sunday meals, greasy with all the fixins' set out on the good plates.

I don't recall her resting much. 

She had her sacred down times.

Don Fransico praise music as she washed dishes in hot soapy water.

The Waltons every Thursday night, that we  were not permitted to  watch along with her, though years later the repeats were on PBS after school.

Books and her Bible in front of the fire.

Today when I visit,  my own hands  dish-pan dry, thinking of my own tasks that never seem done, she always, always, swoops in:

Offers the drink, the baked good, tells me to "sit and eat".

It feels so good to let her take care of me the way she always does.

If I make mention of a headache or pain: that green bottle of excedrin produces in under a minute with a fresh glass of water.

She is at her happiest serving others.

It's something I hope one day I can somehow accomplish, though Lord knows I still am angling for the me factor more often than not.

Stop.

Linking up again with Lisa over at the gypsy mama with today's writing prompt.

I have to be honest and say when I saw today's different type of prompt, I was just a tiny disappointed.  I have such a poor memory for recalling details, especially from childhood.  Not because it was bad, just ordinary, that and I truly do have a memory that stinks: Ginkgo supplements and all.

But, like so many other times I pecked out that prompt on my title and The Spirit just whispers one word, and my fingers take over translating a river of thoughts and images to this screen.

Cheers.

"SO...maybe...possibly...i compared windows 8 to the anti-Christ"

It was however via a text to Mr.MS and not, say, in the aisles of Best Buy.

The last two weeks have been filled with sickness of many shapes, forms, and sleep depriving sizes.  A rotating assault of germs and bacteria.  I am usually the one who feels it coming on one day, spends a day on the couch sucking down tea and Vitamin C and dayquil the next day, and then the following day, get on with my life.  Not so, for much of the month of February.

February: my witching month every year.  Every year I say to self-         " don't plan anything in February, you're just gonna be sick" 

Then every January when post- Christmas winter boredom sets in I ignore self and plan stuff. 

Right smack in the middle of sickness our tax return came back {yay}

And our seven-year old computer starting dying {boo}

We purchased a new Dell, a new monitor, that came with a new operating system:

Windows 8

That's when the Biblical references of woe and vengeance started to spit out of my clenched teeth. With all the sickness Mr.MS just threw the new clean shiny PC up and slowly put old stuff back into new stuff over the course of a few days.  I never had the time, energy, or non-fuzzy thinking capacity to get a real crash course on how "wonderful" and "intuitive" Windows 8 is.

Then I started to feel better.

Life starting to get back to normal, though I still had a big girl home sick and still not feeling the greatest, I simply could not lay down on the couch for another day.

Time to sit infront of that big bright shiny new monitor and speedy quick computer!  Anyone who has Windows 8 knows it has all those tiles.(stupid tiles)  I am told it works much like " a smart phone".

Which is grand unless you are among the few who think not paying a high monthly bill to have the internet in our pocket is"smart" and still have a tracphone.

Very outdated am I.

It was just a perfect storm of anger really:

Prolonged sickness and technology I can't figure out.

Throwing fuel to the flames...

Mr.MS set all the passwords and made them slightly different from the old ones by accident...oh the swearing.

I cannot stand being sick, get livid when I cannot figure out to make my computer do what I want it too, and start to foam at the mouth when my password gets changed.

But, I think we kicked the sickies to the curb, and I am blogging from the mac laptop (hence the stolen images from google).

I even went ahead and cancelled an already once re-scheduled get together with my husband's sisters and their husbands because I am just too tired.

The house is scary gross.

The laundry is scary Mt. Everest in size.

Our tax return still sits...oh so tantalizing in our joint checking account, and is bleeding out, the way a mad cash influx tends to do, because we have not had the time to sit and dole out the money to all those fun things like taxes and credit cards.

I decided to just have a great day with The Babe today.

She woke up and I swooped her up, still rubbing  her scrunched up face surrounded by crazy snarly hair, and declared:

"I miss you!  We are going to story time at the library and Wegmans Cafe today" (that being our local grocery store's cafe/restaurant/bakery, which we love).

I even have a yoga class tonight.

I even have a lunch date tomorrow with my MIL.

I even have a girl-y crafty over-nite next weekend.

I even have Mr.MS picking me up from said girly time to then drive directly to a B&B somewhere in the Pennsylvania NorthEastern mountains.

(as you can see I have a real hard time indulging myself)

So evil germs and evil computers, which bring out an evil me, aside;

I think, once again, I just might survive the month of February...then again it's not over.

Cheers.

jumping the gun & a day behind

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************************************************************    When the temperatures suddenly swell to near 50 degrees

The sun in the blue sky actually feels warm on her cheek

And the earth smells like its preparing for Spring:

It is easy for a 4 year old to jump the gun

&

sprint barefoot in the back yard

 

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&

When your four daughters only get one party a year

All of them beg & beg for a valentine's party

The holiday falls on a Thursday

You decide to have it a day behind:

Since parties with ten elementary-aged girls leave you tired

&

On the 15th all the decorations are half off

Linking up once again with international photo enthusiasts at

Shadow Shot Sunday 2.

Happy Weekend Everyone.

Cheers.

Deliberate: when valentines and lent meet

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Today is Saint Valentines Day {as if you did not know}.

Today also starts the Lent season {which probably most of you know}.

 Romantic Love and Extended Denial vying for space on today's calender square.

They say you are supposed to express love to those who matter most to you today.

They say you are supposed to give up, fast, deny something for 40 days starting today in honor of the denial the Son of God took for humankind.

Really the two seem to orbit in different atmospheres.

American Greeting cards commercialism & ancient religious practices.

Most people participate in the first to simply fulfill a social consumer obligation.

Most people participate in the second to simply loose a some mid-winter chub.

I know I have.

But really love and denial fit like a hand in a glove.

The above pictures are expressions of practicing simple love and denial.

The heart sticking out of stick in the log: a little love note.

You see we have a wood burning stove, and every month or so order a big truck load of split wood that gets dumped in our driveway.  That pile needs to be thrown into our open basement window that leads directly to our "wood room" in our dingy cellar.  That particular chore always falls of Mr.MS as you might imagine.  But this particular wood delivery day he was going to be late from work, a big snow storm was about to let loose, and he left that morning feeling crummy.  It had been a hard busy day for me.  I had a scant half hour before the three big girls came bounding in from school with all the activity, conversation, demands, and noise that only a trio of 1st, 4th, and 5th grader girls are capable of.

What I wanted to do was lay on the couch and start my new novel as I started on a dove bar and some home-brewed Starbucks.

Oh yeah we had been fighting. A lot that week.

I hesitated for a moment, staring longingly at the couch and eyeing the microwave clock.  I then pulled on work boots, gloves,a fleece, and started to throw a mountain of wood into the basement.

The snow had just started to float down in fat lazy flakes.

I hesitate sharing this because really it seems all too-

"look at me I'm awesome"

And I hate people like that.  Kinda like talking sarcastic and mean about them.

But here is the rest of the story:

A year or two ago I would of never done that.

Know why?

Because I had sunk deep into that human habit of making "my hard life" all about me.  Sure I sacrificed for the children, {and didn't I remind myself and inform my husband about that often enough}.

I constantly had a running tally in my mind of: Who did what.  Which was harder.  Who preformed the best.

I kept an eagle-sharp eye on what He was supposed to do, and was incensed when He asked for help with "his jobs".  All the while would mumble a quick "thanks" when he pitched in with helping with "my jobs".

It was not like that all the time, let me tell you.  I would go through seasons of moods and fluctuate between generosity and stinginess. Overall we had, and do have a good, happy marriage.

Slowly, so slowly and gently God started to peel away all my supposed "good works" and revealed the ugly blights beneath.

Its the paradox most adults will at some point succumb to:

"I just have to make myself happy first, and then I will be healthier".

Yet the opposite happens as relationships get un-healthy, cold, and unkind.

But Jesus Christ came and brought in an upside kingdom:

The first shall be last.

The servant is the most honored.

We have heard the Sunday School lesson over and over again, but it looses its ring of truth in the harshness of growing up in an unfair world. It takes on fable-like qualities.

So after I had my 4th, and life was hard, and I thought pretty unfair, I put myself first.  But, not on the outside. No, no, perfect stay at home mom,  server at church, volunteer at school, the funny friend, looked pretty much unchanged.

But I knew I was.  And it was not good.  Again, God with His patience, His Son's forgiveness, His Spirit's whispers of leading, brought me to the place where I realized it is not about me.  I started the hard, hard task of stopping my complaining, negative tongue. Starting saying thank you with fresh eyes to all my blessing.  Lots of relapses, as recent as last week.  

 But in my pursuit of- its not about me

I have more joy in simply serving, being present, being deliberate, being kind, and soft spoken toward my husband, my children, to others in my life, than those grasping moments of "Me time" ever, ever afforded.

And here's the kicker:

I have lots of wonderful "Me Time" still. Because making time for yourself in not wrong.  It is healthy, it does restore.  It is needed. {just check out my last post...I have a whole room for myself} When you serve first, the balance will emerge.  But the balance is liquid, not concrete. 

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You set your focus on the task of serving, with a heart of gratitude, not begrudging, or that annoying martyr whine, and you yourself will, yes fade to the back round as you deny what you want to do, you want to accomplish, you want to grasp. Put to death all those "I deserve" conversations in your head. 

Like those little pink boots: blurry, out of focus, and seemingly far removed- looming behind the harsh splintery pile of course labor.

But in time it will produce...

 that outstretched hand of wonder and joy, because that is what you were made to do.  That is love.  And it always satisfies.

Happy Valentines Day!

 

February update{s}

So.

Its been awhile.

There are lots of reasons why...some good...some not so good.

The following explosion of photographs is to update you of just one of the reasons I have not been around lately:

Me and Mr.MS turned my kinda dark, cluttered sewing-room-turned- kitty -litter-box-and-dump-crap-that-doesn't-belong-anywhere-room to this:

{but first a riddle}

What's pink&black&white 

and antique shaby chic all over?

answer:

My new studio.

{That's right not called my "sewing room anymore".  I even took the bold step of taking my trusty Kenmore off the main work table; unplugging it to store on the bottom of the side table...a dramatic statement in my creative life let me tell you}.

My big old desk, an antique teacher's desk with the coolest and longest drawers I have ever seen, and that I paid not only I think close to $200 for, but an additional $100 to U-Haul it home, is presently a shiny blank canvas without my sewing machine and sewing notions hogging up desk top real estate.  Possibilities...but that's not what I am writing about today...

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It all started innocently enough when I stopped by a favorite blogger mate down under called  crazy house capers  .  One of the things I love about her is that her bio line includes the statement " I am pretty sure I do not own any clothes without paint on them"  This couple who live basically on the beach! put the American television show team of "This  old house" to shame.  Her latest renovation was a salvaged floor she checkered  in an awesome beach-y blue {that's her how-to link also}.

With the NFL off the weekend before the superbowl I used my feminine powers of persuasion to talk Mr.MS into looking at her blog...with detailed how-tos...and to do the same for my a fore mentioned sewing- kitty- litter- room. 

Before I unload my photo bomb I will say that it was so enjoyable working on a house project for ourselves.  Not that phantom "buyer" we worked so hard to please last year {which apparently we did not do such a great job impressing, seeing as no one put in an offer}.

In other words, I did it exactly how I liked it.

Here we go:

Original floor...shiny but gross with yellow paint showing underneath {what possessed me to paint my floors yellow, I hate the color yellow!}

 

 

 Every good DIY project starts with an empty box of cheerios...ok that may just be "our" thing.

 

This part involved math and angles....and therefor was not a part of...expect to take pictures and make jokes that for some reason he didn't find in the least funny.

The next couple days we saw blue...

and more blue...

you can only keep the little people out of the room for so long...

I am unsure why I took so many pics of this stage... more than any other part.  Perhaps something to do with that Mr.MS did all of this stage also, and it fell on the very few days the sun shone this month...making for better photos.

Finally I could "paint it black" just like the only Rolling Stones songs I like to sing along to.

 Then the second coat of black... a week into this project and I am getting anxious to finish.

Then another tedious coat of touch up white...but after all this time and effort I wanted it to look good and last.

"ooooh it looks like a dance floor!"

so we danced...

even the big guy who will never, ever fast dance with me no matter how much I get him to drink at wedding receptions...

Mr. Bo Jangles was just confused.  I imagine his thinking something along the lines of:

"first they move my toilet and now they seem to be possessed by an evil spirit"  {that's a reference to white people dancing}.

After the bad dancing I got to looking at my floor and realized it looked too "diner-ish" not enough "romantic-style-ish" so...

I stenciled!

And after the stenciling was the final step for these floors I was starting to despise...clear coat varnish.  Water based and 3 coats of it.  With some typical February sickness during that duration and the big girl turning 11 and the super bowl and superbowl recuperation. 

In between all that I got my pink on...

That antique teacher's table we U-Hauled mentioned above was sadly painted a dark hunter green (not a green person) but I tolerated it for years.  But with black and white checks and a red accent wall it looked hideous!  I had the original plan of just doing the first coat pink from left over paint in the basement, and then doing a top coat of black with sanded corners to show the pink underneath.  However, I loved the pink with the mossy green coming through beneath.  Plus, this studio project was going on nearly 2 weeks and slapping on just one coat was looking real good.

 
The finished result...

Ta-da!

It is so much brighter and just plain pretty.  I love the simple non cluttered feel.  We put up a new light.  A black ceiling fan, {$79 at Lowes} that was a huge improvement,and put some much needed closet shelves in.  I use TJMaxx reusable shopping bags {99 cents people!} as storage bins. The closet being the door that does not have an old quilt wedged in the frame!  Our old house is cursed with having about 3 doors per tiny room, which takes away much needed wall space. Not to mention, directly behind the quilted door is Mr. Bo Jangles new kitty litter spot!!

Cheers.

Bare: five minute friday

Bare:

Me without make up

Me under stress

Me with contempt in my voice over selfish mothers

Me being just as selfish that same night

Imperfections, that is what bareness reveals

No more than imperfections:  rawness

Rawness like a bloody carcass dripping out red on a butcher's hook

It aint pretty

But its real

It's what lies beneath that 30 dollar steak you order at a table cloth restaurant

It's what lies beneath me under my make up under my trying harder, and working, working, working

But after I shake my head, sometimes deflated, sometimes horrified 

I breathe, I see, I acknowledge:  its all redeemable

Tried with fire

The burnt offering

The blood that atones

Because at His most bare He is good, He is beautiful,

"Taste and see that He is good" says The Book

The same lesson:

over and over and over and over

Its not about me.

Stop

Linking up with Lisa-Jo Bakers blog for another brave 5 minute friday.

Which, each and every friday has a different word prompt to delve into fingers first. 

Cheers.

January thaw

Last week temperatures were 25 degrees below average and we frightened to go outside.

Today the temperate is 25 degrees above average and The Babe is confused.

This is the conversation we had as walked backed from walking big sissies to school at 8:30 this morning:

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" So I guess it's gonna be Spring tomorrow huh?"

"No honey, it's still January. This is just...a fluke"

"A what? Spring is definitely tomorrow"

"No, its not.  It's just...a thaw"

"A what? Yeah, can't wait for Spring tomorrow"

{Mother decided to simply play "I spy" for the last two blocks and leave the meteorological discussion for another time}.

This is what "I spied with my little eye" in the backyard while she ate breakfast:

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Thaw or fluke...the windows are open today.

And it's going to snow, not be Spring tomorrow.

Cheers.

pleased as punch to be published

{Well sorta}.

A  paper&ink magazine's free on-line version of their genuine magazine is still considered being "published" right? 

I saw written by: Leah Beecher flash on my screen.

{There was no bi-line...I thought I would see a bi-line? Which is just silly considering they never asked for one, and I therefore never supplied one}.

It all started back in October when I posted here at Manyslices about how "texting improved my marriage".

And I'll just come out and say it: I was damn proud with that particular post. 

I was also convinced that the lesson that The Holy Spirit illuminated to me, needs to be shared with others. 

So I set out to cross the bridge from a blog poster to free-lance writer.

It was a lot of work!

It included purchasing the book Christian Writer's Market Guide: 2012 since the topic I happened to be writing about had Biblical references and spiritual insights.

I had to read the preface twice to even understand how to use the book!

I wrote down a list of periodicals that I thought potentially would be interested in my article suggestion.

I learned and then had to re-learn exactly what a query letter was.  I then realized too late, I spelled the word "query" wrong on my first email submission {way to go}.

I got a couple: thanks but no thanks

A whole lot more: crickets.

Then "The Brink" Magazine said: maybe.

I submitted my article, after, it goes without saying, about ten re-writes so as to really get the point and expression across for a magazine article.  Followed by neurotic editing.  Mr.MS edited twice.

I emailed the submission.

An editor emailed back saying "yes" {thanks David}.

Then it got pushed back for this reason or that reason for several months.

And today I got the email: it is out in virtually print!

I found it ironic that I immediately had the option to "share" this article via social networking, and really, really wanted to, but alas could not because I have written off social networking, which is exactly the whole point of my article.

{Except for blogging of course.  Blogging, like Mel Brooks' movies, are just an exclusive category in of itself, and therefore immune.}

So here is the link {you knew it was coming} to my article found at The Brink Online about why only shallow people use facebook.

{That was a joke}

p.s. I don't know why I used about a dozen {  } in this post, it just kinda happened.

{Cheers}.