My Lovely Dwelling Place

Cocksure Confidence Confidence is a wonderful thing.  One definition states confidence is a feeling of self-assurance arising from one's appreciation of one's own abilities or qualities.  Some people seem to be born with this appreciation; others need to acquire it.  There are websites devoted to building one’s confidence.  Apparently, this can be learned if it does not come naturally.             For example, one of my sons has tried twice to make chocolate chip cookies.  He had a recipe, the ingredients, and a working oven.  Despite this the cookies turned out to be only of use to Palestinians should they run out of stones to throw at Israelis.  My son is convinced that his rock cookies are the result of a faulty recipe and poisoned vanilla extract.  It would never occur to this particular son that he, perhaps, did something wrong.  He has confidence in his ability in the kit...

January Joy I’ve been feeling troubled lately, thinking negative thoughts.  Worrying about things I can’t control and not liking the way other people behave is bringing me down.  I’m not particularly enjoying winter this year either, although it has been mild, and there is nothing to complain about.  Somehow winter and my mood appear to be related.  It is funny how a dark cloud of sour discontent can settle on a person. I really should be happy – many things are right in my life.  Plenty of people have seen a whole lot more trouble than I have.  Disappointments and challenges are a part of life, after all.  They come and go like our seasons.  Is it reasonable to want to be exempt from the experience?  Changing seasons can be a beautiful thing.  Spring flowers, the color green, summer sunshine, blue skies, autumn colors, windy days, fresh falling snow, larger-than-life snowflakes – variety is truly the spice of life, right? ...

Auld Lang Syne It’s the time of year for reflection – the end of one year and the beginning of another - the time to make resolutions, goals, hopes and dreams. I’m not really a resolutions person.  I’m more a ‘Lord willing’ person.  Not that I don’t have goals.  I just don’t tie them to January first.  Nevertheless, buying a new calendar makes me think of the year that passed…what I can remember of it.  I woke up this morning pondering my life.  Like most people not all of this past year was good, not all bad either, most of it just there.  Highs and lows, triumphs and defeats, gains and losses…life lived. I’d like to say I accomplished goals, met milestones, and lost a hundred pounds – twenty pounds even!  Alas, I don’t know if I’m much different than I was last year. Hey, you know I’m just trying to survive around here.  While folks stay up late and drink sparkling something, I’m looking forward to the kids sleeping late in...

The Eggnog Caper Have you ever wanted to not get out of bed?  On a quiet morning you think, “It’s relatively quiet.  Maybe no one will notice if I just stay in bed today.”  This is a delusional thought.  The only reason there is quiet at my house in the morning is because my sons’ stomachs haven’t woke them up yet.  The first thing heard is usually a dog barking or whining.  My room is on the main floor all the way on one side of the house.  The back door is downstairs where three boys sleep on the other side of the house.  Yet no one hears those dogs bark or whine but me.  The old lady who worked until midnight and averages six hours sleep on a good night is known to care for canine needs.  The robust, healthy males with nine hours under their belts could sleep until noon in a crowded basketball stadium that was on fire. Once I’ve braved the elements and fulfilled my furry friends’ expectations, I make some coffee.  Wi...

I Remember Mama Everyone has a story.  What we do, how we see the world, how we react to our circumstances have a great deal to do with our story.  I’ve been thinking about my mom lately.  The things she used to do and say, her life – her story. She would have been ninety-two this year.  She didn’t have an easy life, maybe no one does.  She lived in perilous times, maybe we all do.  I remember an old radio on a shelf that my mom could tune to get French stations.  She would sing loud, with windows open so the neighbors could hear as she sang those French love songs.  The neighbors called her Frenchie, go figure. My mom was born in Le Havre, France.  She had a troubled childhood.  Her father committed a crime before she was born, so her early years were spent with her grandparents under a cloud of shame.  Later when her sister was born, she lived with her mother and step-dad.  She was resentful and gave them trouble...

What?  Me Worry? Sixteen year old's generally want to drive.  This has been the bane of my existence for almost that many years.  Five of my kids are legal drivers.  As far as I’m concerned I’ve done my part for humanity.  When my number two son had his permit, we drove to the north side regularly to see a doctor there.  One morning, he asked if he could drive.  I innocently said, “Sure!”  Forty-five minutes on the Dan Ryan made me lose all confidence in the whole idea.  My son did fine, but I was a mess.  Call me a control freak, but student drivers shouldn’t drive on the Dan Ryan.  Heck, no one should drive on the Dan Ryan!  Ever since that fateful day, I loathe having to drive with one of my blessings.  I get anxious.  It is unbelievably hard to hand them the keys.  I’ve bargained with older siblings to take them out driving.  I’ve told my husband it was his job.  Of course, I feel guilty ...