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  • Moo-chas Gracias Graco

    July 24, 2008

    Last month, I wrote a post about our run away MaGoo car and Jon DeHart, a daddy blogger over at Graco liked it and gave me the Graco Monthly Nod, which was not only a great honor but according to the email, also included a “small” prize.  The small prize turned out to be, indeed, small.  Small and adorable, yes? 

    I just got these in the mail today!  These are itty bitty 1×3 business cards from a company called Moo over in England.  They have tons of fun stock images to choose from or you can upload your own as I did.  Unfortunately, my camera distorted the color so you can’t see that it exactly matches the background to my blog.  I love’em, I do and can’t wait to give one to somebody.

    Thanks Jon for the nod and Graco for the Moo cards!

    Wow

    February 15, 2008

    Y’all are amazing.  And oddly enough, given to violence. I had no idea so many of my gentle readers would be willing to break someone’s legs on my behalf.  I am honored.  And little fightened.  I’m kidding as I know y’all are too.  You ARE kidding, right?

    I do want to thank you all for your prayers and positive thoughts.  Your prayers were the currents under my wings that kept me aloft these past few days.

    Anyway, clarifications and updates are in order.

    First for clarification — and this is all newly learned information for me.  Blood sugar and urine sugar are not the same.  You should have sugar in your blood, something around 70-110. You should not have sugar in your urine.  If you do (from what I understand at this point and I am NOT an expert) the sugar is spilling over from your kidneys or pancreas which could indicate diabetes or something else.

    So then, the first urine test Sean took was accurate.  A sugar count of 2000 is extreeeemly high and a reason to be concerned.  However, his blood sugar was at 85, which you can’t get any more normal than that.  And none of the other markers for diabetes were present in his blood. 

    And now for the update:  We went back to the “real” doctor on Thursday and he still had sugar in his urine, but it was down to 250 from 2000, which is elevated but not insane.  But the doctor was stumped. He said he had no idea what was going on and that it was probably one of those one-time mystery medical events for which we will never have an explanation. 

    The doctor suggested that we cut all additional sugars out of his diet — sodas, candy, pastries — and then come back in for another urine test this coming week.  The upside to this event is that it was the kick in the pants we needed here at the House of Antique to get the refined sugar out of our diet, something we are all going to do.  In the meantime, I am going to test his urine myself at home and hopefully see that number decline.

    Now here’s a tip: Do NOT go on WebMD and start researching all the reasons you might have sugar in your urine because it will not make you feel better.  I did, and I learned that Sean could either be pregnant or have a brain tumor. 

    Aw Shucks!

    February 1, 2008

    Lexi who writes Hooked On Espresso nominated me for a Perfect Post award for this post that I wrote last month.  I wouldn’t even mention it but Marlboro Man is making me. Oh wait. That’s not right.  No, I’m mentioning it because I am thrilled and I am honored. Thank you so much Lexi. 

    The Original Perfect Post Awards – Jan 08

    You can find the other January nominees here. 

      * * * * *

    In other news, a fireplace makeover going on at Inspired Spaces today.

    What Goes Around

    November 12, 2007

    One day, about 25 years ago, not too long after I had moved to Texas from the mid-west, I went to the grocery store to get a few necessities.  I was about 22-years-old.  I aspired to be dirt poor. To say that I was struggling would be an understatement.

    Into my cart, I put the very few carefully chosen things I could afford – a small carton of milk, a loaf of day old bread, off-brand toothpaste and a small box of feminine products.  I put my groceries onto the conveyer and watched the cashier ring up each item, making sure she hadn’t rung up anything for one penny more than it cost.  I don’t remember what the total was.  I do remember reaching into my purse for my checkbook and not finding it. And then realizing I had left it at home.  I remember the sensation of disbelief and then panic wash down my spine like lighter fluid.

    I began scrounging through my purse looking for enough money to cover my groceries, although I don’t know why.  I was as likely to have a kangaroo in my purse as I was to have enough cash to pay for my groceries.

    As I was frantically digging through my purse willing money to materialize, I felt the spark of life begin to flicker and wane.  That little spark that I had been tenderly protecting for months, that spark that had burned just bright enough to beat back the loneliness and kept me convinced that I could make it in Texas, that little spark that was going to prove to all those people back home that they were wrong about me – that little spark was all but out.

    It had been a hard, hard year and for some reason the missing checkbook seemed like a big bucket of water aimed right at my spark.  I was trying so very hard to be a grown up and I was failing.  I felt like crumpling into a heap onto the grocery store floor and crying my eyes out.

    I looked at the cashier and tried to work up the nerve to tell her that I had no money, that I would have to come back for my stuff. She looked at me with her arms folded across her chest and her eyebrows raised expectantly, as though she had seen this before.

    Then the lady in line behind me handed the cashier $10.

    “It would bless me to do this small thing for you,” she said to me. “Please. Allow me.  This money means nothing to me.”

    She looked into my face for consent.  Her expression was hopeful and happy. She nodded her head yes.

    I sighed and hung my head in shame.  And then I nodded agreement.  I was grateful. I was embarrassed.  If I had allowed my voice into my throat at that moment, I would have begun sobbing uncontrollably.  With big fat tears threatening to spill, I simply smiled at her and mouthed the words thank you.

    After I composed myself and collected my bag of groceries, I offered to mail her a check but she waved me off, telling me to keep my chin up and have a nice day.

    Recently, when I was in the grocery store, that memory came flooding back.  It was early in the day when the only shoppers in the store are the AARP mafia and a few other moms.  I got the things I needed and then got in line behind a young gal.  I watched her methodically put each item on the conveyer, carefully checking the price, doing math in her head.

    After her purchases were rung up, she counted out her cash to the cashier.  And then she looked at the total and counted it again. Something wasn’t right.  And then she began rummaging through her purse.  “Oh no,” she said, “I thought I had another $10 in my purse.” She kept rummaging while at the same time glancing back at her groceries to see what she could put back.

    I recognized the look of panic on her face. I saw in her that her spark and her spirit had been tested.  I reached into my purse and handed the cashier $10.

    “Please,” I said, “It would bless me if you will allow me to do this for you.”

    “Oh no,” she said, “I couldn’t.”

    “Please,” I persisted.  “I must.”

    And it was true. It was as if I had no choice in the matter. I had to.

    “Well thank you,” she said.  “I don’t know what to say.  It’s been really hard…” and then her voice trailed off.

    “I understand,” I said. And I did understand.

    She gathered up her bags and then turned and smiled at me. She thanked me again.

    “Have a nice…” Then I stopped.

    Have a nice day didn’t seem fitting.

    ”Have a nice life,” I said.

    “I will,” she said, “You too.”

    I am having a nice life.  When you grow up to to be the lady in the grocery store who is lucky enough to get to pay it forward once in a while, that’s a nice life.

    A Perfect Post!

    January 3, 2007

    Photo Temporarily Unavailable

    My post! Someone think’s it’s perfect! And it’s not even MY mother! It’s MommaK — the mother of the Perfect Post awards!

    Go there now and see all the other perfectly fabulous December posts. And stay awhile — because today? I got nothing! I’m relishing folks, I’m just going to lay around and relish my perfectpostedness. And scratch myself. And eat corn. Or something.

    Click the button below to go MommaK’s Perfect Post page and see which post she chose.

    A Perfect Post - December