Musing

I'm grateful for my sweet kids. Reese made breakfast this morning. I could get used to that. Corbin said, "have a good night night, Mommy?" when I got him up from his second nap (I know...two naps? How lucky am I?). And Quincy...well she took Corbin's red bat away (aka the club o' destruction) and threw it in the trash because, "this thing is too naughty for Corbin, Mom!" Now, they are romping around the backyard and pretending to be Kit, Ruthie, and Sterling in the treehouse. I love them. I live for them.

I'm grateful for my parents. They are really really good people.

I'm grateful it rained today.

I'm grateful for my house. It is located between the worst combination of neighbors in America and there are still 3 kittens (probably dead) trapped under it, and there is still a (now starving and pissed that we haven't just killed him off yet) raccoon in a trap in my backyard that growls when you go outside. But those things aside, I love my house. I will never get sick of the earthy grey color on the walls, I love my stuff (whoa! hoarder alert!), I love the screened in porch in the spring, the patio and the pergola in the summer, hopefully a garden full of pumpkins and butternut squash in the fall, and the cozy fireplace in the winter. I love that it is my house. I love that there are no spare bedrooms because they are full of people that I love.

I'm grateful for medicine. I know I talk about this one often--too often for some, but I don't give a rip. Hospitals and doctors and medicine and amazing medical technology are blessings from God. I refuse to be a fool, mock my maker, and take these blessings for granted by thinking I know better or using anything other than the best medical practices available to me.

I'm grateful for Aaron's job. I don't have to work = life is pretty grand, I say. It's pretty easy to hate on Walmart and trust me, as associates we hear our share of hatin'. To the haters I say, "work somewhere else, yo!" because Walmart has got. it. going. on. Top of the Fortune 500 is not a bad place to be.

Wow, Aaron must really have me converted to Walmart lovin', I'm starting to sound like I'm telling the team "what it takes to be number one".

----Man, it's a real shame Aaron doesn't read this blog, cuz his wife just dropped Vince Lombardi like it's hot on her blog. He'd be so proud. I about blew his socks off on Friday as the valuable informant that broke the news to him that Ron Artest had changed his name to Metta World Peace. Boom! What's that Vince? Who's in the hall of fame now? Me. The Wife Hall of Fame.

ok, where were we? oh right, Walmart. I'm mostly grateful for Walmart because working for Walmart makes Aaron so happy. I am so grateful for my Aaron.

I'm grateful for my Kindle. I know I was a hater for awhile, because I wasn't getting my mom's hand-me-down books anymore, but dang. That thing is super awesome. And it has a cute orange case. And I have instant access to books. I love it.


I'm grateful for good friends that give genuine love and support when it is most needed, and then give it again when I think it is not needed but they know it really is.


I'm grateful for the highly addictive substance Chick-Fil-A is hiding in their buffalo sauce. Whatever it is, I'm certain it coined the term 'awesomesauce' because the food high that rolls immediately after comsumption is straight up money.

I'm grateful I have two lovely cleaning goddesses coming to do a deep deep clean tomorrow.

I'm grateful for God's timeline. I have a serious need to control things (gasp! really?) and there are many things in life that we just can't control. God's timeline allows for breaks (forces us to stop rushing) to just enjoy living.

Meet Kit

Reese and I finished Meet Kit and Reese has been working hard to add a page to her Good News Journal every day. Last week, I gave her the little 6 inch Kit doll (thanks to Borders 90% clearance, I picked up a few of the dolls for $4 or $5 each to go with the books). Reese has been begging for an American Girl doll since Christmas. The mini doll seems to be the greatest thing since sliced bread. She took Kit to her room and set her up in the attic, because that's where Kit ended up in the book, and took this picture of her. Too cute.

Reese has had a lot of questions about the Great Depression since reading the book. She keeps asking what caused it. We looked as some photos and talked about them. The girls saw the pictures of people out on the street with all of their belongings and said, "that's like Joplin!"

Then the real flood of questions came. "did a tornado cause the Depression?" "If we have a tornado in Bella Vista, will dad lose his job?" "if dad ever loses his job, will we turn our home in to a boarding house, like Kit did?" "Is Joplin in a Depression?"

We placated the plethora of queries by reminding the girls that we have food storage, and savings, and a garden and chickens, so we are prepared to for an emergency or if Aaron were to lose his job.


I think they finally understand. Maybe. The photos from the Depression do look so much like the Joplin tornado wreckage that we saw a few weeks ago, with the overall run down sadness and the people living in tents, etc, that I don't blame them for being confused. I'm pretty sure they still think a tornado was involved with the Depression somehow, but we're working on that.

Tomorrow, we're borrowing the Meet Kit movie from a friend. The girls are so excited!

What's that smell?

It's time.
Let's talk about Henry.

Remember Henry?
He moved into Carl and Barb's house directly across the street.

He is a Hoarder. A REAL Hoarder. The kind that end up on the tv show.

Lately, the smell from Henry's garage has become so bad that we just can't take it anymore.
But who do I call? The health department?

One day, we were in the driveway and there was a particularly bad smell wafting over from Henry's open garage. It is always open, which is why we have so many stray cats now...they are surviving on mice from Henry's garage.
I am 100% serious.
Imagine the worst mess you have ever seen, then throw food and animal feces on it.
You are picturing the view from my kitchen window.

So anyway, the smell was so bad, that I was trying to talk to my parents in the driveway but I started dry heaving instead. Sick.


I lost it.
Between heaves, I was standing in the street, throwing my fists in the air, sweating and screaming at the pile of garbage, "Ugh, Henry! CLEAN your freaking nasty house! It's disgusting!"

"He's not in it."

huh? Oops. Henry was right behind me, walking up toward his house from a garage sale down the street. I probably should have been embarrassed at the time. Instead, I was sick. and MAD.

Henry was pulling a cart FULL of more crap that he'd bought at the garage sale! He asked if something was wrong.

Now or never, Meg.

"YES, something is wrong. Your house is messy and it smells bad. I don't like looking at your garbage all day and the smell makes me throw up."

Henry looked surprised, "is it a bad smell?"

"Uh, YES IT'S A BAD SMELL!!! It smells like rat urine and cats and rotting flesh and sewage and garbage! It's disgusting! Either clean your gross house or keep the garage door closed so we don't have to see it or smell it."

Then (like a coward) I turned around and walked away.

OK. I realize this was not my finest moment. Just so you don't think I am dead inside, you should know that the guilt of my horrible behavior did come and it hit like a bag of bricks, or a bag of garbage, if you will.

When we got home that night, Henry's garage door was closed.
It stayed closed the next day, and the next.
And the next.

It did not help that the lesson in Relief Society that Sunday was about loving your neighbors and bringing them closer to Christ. Of course it was.

Yeah. Remorse was slowly going to kill me. No one deserves to be spoken to like that. I wasn't even speaking, I was screaming, crying, and gagging. It was quite the tantrum. How UN-Christian of me. I know that I could have said something to him, but I didn't need to do it that way. I am so embarrassed. I think Aaron and my parents wanted to curl up in a ball and die after witnessing the show.

I needed to apologize.

But here's where my pride sneaks (read: marches) in.
I don't like to apologize. (I know, who does?)
I love being right and I hate admitting I've let my sharp tongue get the best of me. I've said a lot of stupid and offensive things to people (just humor me and act surprised, ok? I'm not feeling very proud of myself at the moment, so let's not go there), but never anything like this. I mean, I've apologize for being rude or snarky or whatever, but let me just tell you right now,

"I'm sorry I called you disgusting and screamed in your face" is not something I thought I would ever have to say.

I confess:
I found excuses and justified reasons to not apologize for 5 days.
Henry's garage did not open even once.

What if I broke him with my horrible words? Maybe he honestly has NO CLUE that he has a hoarding sickness and I was the one to bear the news? That has to be worse than hearing "you've got cancer" for a guy like Henry. I had to talk to him.

With Aaron's encouragement (he is so wise) I prayed for humility and courage to apologize. I might have prayed that it would be easy. I know that part isn't fair, but I did anyway. Just keepin it real for ya.

The next morning, I had an opportunity, and I knew it was time.
Reese and I heard the trash collector cruise past our house at 6:30am (why so early? They usually come at 2) We rushed outside to pull our cans to the curb and flag them down so they'd stop on their way back.

Henry's garage door opened.
I passed out.

Ok, not really, but you know how when you throw away a meat package or a really nasty diaper, and it sits in the metal trash can just cooking and festering and rotting in the heat of the sun day after day? Do you know how bad that trash can smells when you open the lid 5 days later? Bad. Real bad.

Sort of like how bad the smell that came from Henry's was when he opened the garage door for the first time in 5 days.

I held my breath, prayed for strength and a bridled tongue, and went over there and gave Henry a sincere, heartfelt apology. I really meant it. After a moment, he cut me off with a, "no worries" like it was water under the bridge.

To be that forgiving, I can't even imagine. If someone had offended me and MY home like that, I would have stewed over it to an unhealthy level and held a grudge for weeks. Not Henry. He was all smiles on trash day....which is ironic, because he never puts out any trash on trash day. His willingness to forgive made me feel even worse for how mean I had been!

Henry continued, "Next time, you just have to pat me on the back and say, 'hey buddy, you've got a smell!' Don't worry about it."

Oh the guilt! It was like I had kicked a puppy.

"Besides, I found the source of the smell."

Um, you burned your house down? I know the source, Henry. I'm standing in it.

Instead, I say, "you did? What's that?"

Henry proudly held up a gigantic black garbage back and I threw up in my mouth.
"60 lbs of rotten onions!"

Cue Janis from FRIENDS voice because oh. my. gosh.

My guilt left. My head exploded. I have learned pretty much nothing from this experience.

sixty. pounds.
60 pounds of onions! Rotten onions!
Who the crap buys 60 lbs of onions?! WHY did he have them? WHY did they rot? WHY does he live across the street? Why does he have no idea that he has an illness? WHY? WHY? Whyyyyyyyy?????


The following weekend, he brought his brother's truck home to unload into his house, full of stuff of course: several tool boxes, golf bags, a dining room table and a full set of chairs, one of those special assistance raised toilet seats on a stand with the bars, a cabinet, and TWO refrigerators.
And the garage remains open 24/7 again.

what am I supposed to be learning, here? Other than that it might be time to move, I mean.

The All American Summer Passtime.

On Saturday we hit Sonic for slushies and tots, then headed to a ballpark in Rogers to watch Aaron play in a softball tournament with the stake. It was really hot outside. Sick hot.

But the players still played and the kids had a lot fun playing in the sand box at the playground.

Go Daddy!

You know you're in Arkansas

When you go out for a date and end up at a buffet (sick, btw.)



When you check out the movies and nothing looks interesting, so instead, you go to Tractor Supply and buy animal traps to catch the litter of stray kittens under your house.


When you go outside in the morning to check your cat traps, and find this waiting for you.

not a kitten.

I think a series of manly grunts would be a more appropriate title for this post.

This guy:

has been happily hitting, banging, crashing, and "hi-yah!"-ing everything and everyone in sight.

My favorite new thing he does is the "slow-mo" fall. Like if he slides off the sofa, he will then continue to dramatically roll three or four more times on the carpet, saying "whooaaaaa-oooooo-ooooooooohhhhhhhhh" in a muted, faraway voice.

Father's Day 2011

Aaron is such a good father.
He plays with the kids, teaches them, respects them as individuals, and there is no end to his love for them. Our children will never doubt of their father's affection for them, and I love that about him.

On Saturday, I told Aaron that it was HIS day to do whatever he wanted.

He sent me out for a morning run.


When I got home, he was vacuuming.

While I showered, he loaded up all of the kids in the van and took them out for donuts.


While Corbin napped, he took the girls on a "date" for lunch. (they chose McDonalds. fancy!)

He mowed the lawn with children on his lap.

After I put Corbin to bed, he took the girls to the pool.

When I asked Aaron why he didn't do more things for himself, like go fishing or take his boat out to the lake, he said, "I did do what I wanted. Today was a great day."



I love him. I am so glad I chose to raise a family with him.