Saturday Morning Post

Happy Saturday, y'all!

How sweet it is.

It feels like it has been FOREVER since we had a real Saturday morning.

Because last Saturday morning -- we were driving back from vacation.

The Saturday before that, was our BIG interview with Mitt Romney at Liberty University.

The Saturday before that, Michael was at a mens' retreat, and I spent the day cleaning and organizing.

And the Saturday before that, was the White House Correspondents' Dinner. (I know, I'm horrible and haven't blogged about the dinner - it's on my list - I just feel so FAR behind on this blog and life in general, it's a little overwhelming...)

So... yeah... we've been a LITTLE busy.

It's nice to be back to a nice, quiet, "normal" Saturday morning.

M is actually up. He's awake in the bedroom, the bed is sitting up, and he's reading a book for work.

I won't gush on how proud of him, because if I did, this blog could become entirely about that. I'm really proud.  Okay. I'll stop.

Brokaw is snuggled up next to me, and Princess is asleep too. I had Angel Food Cake for breakfast.  

My hopes for this long weekend are to catch you up on our lives over the last month or so on the blog, to make strawberry jam and homemade ice cream, to have friends over to grill out, and to spend some serious time at the pool.  Oh, and I guess I should go grocery shopping. 

I better get on it.

Cheers to Saturday! What are your plans for this weekend?

Back From Vacation

Hello, hello.  We are home from an amazing vacation.  I am refreshed and exhausted.  Aren't we all after a typical American vacation that involves spending 5 days driving back and forth half way across the nation, and 3 days actually there?

It really was amazing, in many ways.  An incredible professional opportunity in a setting that brought dreams full circle.  Meals in yoga pants with friends and family.  Laughs and hugs and little boys holding my hands.  Playing in the sand with little girls, holding an opossum, gazing across the landscape of a farm that has been in my husband's family for generations.  Finishing a book on prayer.  Sleepless nights.  Sirius radio.  Inspiring new friends.  Live music.

And now there's deer sausage in my refrigerator and on the 3rd load of post-vacation laundry, my washer quit, so hopefully the maintenance man is on his way.

I left Michael to wait for his home health aide this morning.  Happily.  I love that man with all that is in me, but after 9 days of doing every lift, fixing every meal, dressing, undressing, and caring for him, I am done.   So thankful for the help that we have, and all that he can do for himself when we are in our (pretty much) accessible home environment.  So glad to see the pets, and for the neighbor who looked after them for us while we were gone.

I have been to Starbucks, to the gym (ouch!) and now I'm at Chick Fil A, with a medium sweet tea, this laptop and an empty composition notebook.

Life is good.
We are back, and ready to rock this out.

Rollin' Through George Washington's House

A couple of weeks ago, we spent a sunny Sunday afternoon at George Washington's house.

Mount Vernon.

It's just a few miles from our house.

We aren't exactly neighbors... but it's not that far!

No offense to GW, but we were really there to meet these people.

This is Colin and Heather.  I met heather online through our blog and a spinal cord injury support site.  We have become what I call "SCI sisters." We can relate because we both juggle all this wheelchair business and all of the related business that comes along with it. You have to check out Heather's blog to see the adventures that she and Colin have been on, and they are crazy adventurous especially considering he has only been injured LESS THAN A YEAR.  You guys, traveling with all of this mess is NOT easy.  I have to give them mad props!  I wish we would have had more time to visit with them when they were on vacation in DC, but it fell during a CRAZY week.  

 Michael also made friends with Martha Washington. I am not even kidding.  Only my husband...

 George Washington picked a pretty sweet spot for his digs, I tell you.

But the BEST part was this.

Y'all know me. I hate being stared at. Hate it.  And the ironic thing is, I'm sure when the four of us were walking/rolling around Mount Vernon that we got even more stared at then when we are navigating our world walking/rolling as separate couples.  How could we not? It's like WHEELCHAIRS: COMING THROUGH!! Hahahaha.

But not being alone with it... is comforting.
Talking about wheelchairs and gloves and cushions and rehab and medications and all of that stuff with someone else who totally gets it is way cool.

George Washington's house was pretty cool.
But spending an afternoon with our friends Heather and Colin: even cooler.  Thanks y'all! We hope to see you again!

Alone

It's no secret around here how I *love* my alone time. I get my fix every Saturday morning, when I leave Michael in the bed for an hour or so, and I have some quiet time to myself before we start the day. He says he gives me that time, that he just lays there, still.

I know he's sleeping. And I like it.  Because when he is asleep, that's as close as I get to having the house to myself.  And that's okay.

Michael left Thursday for a long weekend with his brother and some other guys.  He will get home LATE tonight.  It's been long enough to really miss him.  I've been productive, though!  I washed the curtains, I changed light bulbs, switch plate covers, I planted azaleas, I cleaned all of the wheelchair scuff marks off the walls (and enjoyed clean walls for 3 days!).

I worked out, and I bathed the dogs, and reorganized my closet, and sewed a button on one of his shirts.

I defrosted the freezer. I scanned pictures I've been meaning to scan for weeks, I labeled pretty much everything in his bathroom and our kitchen cabinets (in the HOPE that the home health aide will read the labels and maybe put things back in the right place). I cooked. I went to the Farmer's Market.

I hung out with some great friends. I watched TV alone (this is a bigger deal that it seems, since my technology advisor was away!).  I slept alone.  I enjoyed the quiet.  I got to live in this house for several days with EVERYTHING in its place, there was great peace and order and I was only interrupted by a barking dog every now and then.  I only had to take care of myself.  It was really easy.

But I missed him.  It really started to hit me yesterday.

I travel frequently for work.  Michael has told me before that the three night trips are the hardest.  Sometimes I'm only gone for one night, most of the time - it's two nights, and sometimes it's three nights.

I have a new appreciation for him holding down the fort alone now. It's easy to find things to do to stay busy, but when the love of your life is missing, you just don't even feel home.

I don't know how military families do it. Hats off to you guys!

Don't get me wrong. I looked forward to this time alone! And I did enjoy it.  I really did enjoy having my fix of alone time.  And I could definitely get used to doing this - say - once a year.

But I also can't wait to pick him up at BWI tonight.  Literally.  Can't wait to scoop him up, put him in my SUV, buckle that seat belt and bring my man home.  It will be really late, and I have to get up early and go to work in the morning, but that's okay.

Because all will be right with the world again.  I am refreshed. He is refreshed.  And we will be together again. And this time next week, we'll be on vacation!!

Now, let's just hope and pray for a speedy wheelchair repair, pronto!  The stupid chair broke the day before Michael left. GRR.  Thank GOD he was going on this trip with his brother, because otherwise, I would have been so worried/stressed out/I would have even driven to upstate NY or wherever the part that he needs to fix the chair was and gotten it myself. But, since M was with Jarred, I could rest and enjoy my alone time, even though my man was rolling along in slow motion on his backup. Because Jarred is awesome, and I love him and trust him completely.

Whatever. I'll worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, I'm going to scoop Michael up and bring him home.  SO glad we went ahead and got married a few years ago, because I DO NOT miss this being in different states thing/airport goodbyes/hellos, etc. So thankful we get to spend so much time together.

No matter how hard it is, sometimes.

Our Pretty Porch

I just love the way the morning sun kisses our little porch.  I long for the day we live in a house, and can plant things in the ground, and have a real garden.  But, I try to be content with what we have.  And right now, that's a little apartment porch, and it is very pretty.  Our flowers make me smile every time I pull up.

Plant life is generally Michael's department. Because unless you bark or beg or meow, I will likely forget to feed/water you.  

Don't ask me what we planted out there.  Like I said, this is hubs' department.  He takes care of the plants.  He waters them. He probably talks to them, he could make friends with a tree. Plants like conversation though, right?

We got everything at a local garden store, thanks to a Groupon.  Nothing against Home Depot, but we are trying to be more intentional about buying everything we can locally.  I really believe if we are going to help our economy turn around, we need to do our part.

Plus, they gave us this purple and yellow flower plant for free. Because apparently it's a Winter plant, and was going to die immediately.  That was about 3 weeks ago.

Here is my little herb garden.  This year I'm growing basil, rosemary and thyme. Yum, yum and yum.  Im also growing some gourmet lettuce, you can see the leaves for that peeking in on this picture, on the right.  I'm so happy it's all getting bigger!

Our porch doesn't get much "full sun" so impatiens are our ideal flower. They are exploding!

 Last year, as the landscaping guys were working in our apartment complex, Michael stopped them and got them to bring us the cut up tree stumps.  They are so pretty, and we get compliments on them all the time.  Sometimes it pays off that he loves to talk to strangers.

I think my favorite thing this year is these big pots where we mixed the flowers and plants.  I love the way they look. Don't ask me what's in there. I have no idea. But it's pretty!

Saturday Morning Post: Yard Sale Memories

Good morning and Happy Saturday, y'all.  This is a perfect Saturday morning here in Northern Virginia.  The grass is wet but crisp.  Birds are chirping, and the sun is bright.  Bright, warm, dewey Saturday mornings like this make me remember one of my favorite things about Saturday mornings growing up - going to yard sales with my Granny Nora.  I loved it.  It was like a weekly treasure hunt. Stopping at McDonalds or Hardees for a biscuit first, of course, then going down the list of yard sales Granny had circled in the classified section of the newspaper. Yes, the newspaper, remember those?

When I was a kid, Papa Tom would drive.  As soon as I turned 16, I would drive, and Granny and I would go yard saling, just the two of us, which was fun because my Papa Tom was a talker if you know what I mean, and he would see some old lawn mower or something and strike up a conversation and Granny I would be ready to move on, and he would be standing there, talking.

Granny loved to buy things for the house. She was constantly decorating and re-decorating.  Her favorite things to score at yard sales were sheets and bedding. She would change that stuff every week if she found something she loved.  I always went straight for the books, and my collection of Baby Sitters Club books was quite extensive thanks to yard sale and thrift store finds.

Mornings like this make me remember those times of digging through items placed on top of turned-over brown cardboard boxes, laid on the edge of an oil stained driveway, along the edge of wet grass.  I can smell the yard sales.

I realize now how much I learned from all of those Saturdays with my Granny.  I am still an ultimate bargain hunter.  Pretty much everything in our apartment is from Craigslist.  It's very rare that I buy anything for our home "brand new."  I would love to change things around more, and if I could, I would.  I think there is great beauty in taking something that someone has already used, and making it your own, and also beauty in passing it on to the next person.

Now, my Granny lives in California, and I haven't seen her since right after my wedding. I miss her so much.  I would love to go get in my car, swing by her house, pick her up, hit the drive-thru and go yard sale hunting. 

Sometimes It's Still Hard

I used to have this exact car. It feels like a lifetime ago. In my mind, it still represents a time of youth, and freedom that sometimes feels so far away from life as I know it now. 

I wrote this a few weeks ago. I am not currently in this state of mind. It is raw. It is real. I let you guys in, so please, don't hate!

Sometimes it’s still hard.

We are very used to our life.  Usually, we just go about our routines, and it’s no big deal that Michael is in a wheelchair.  Usually.

Then, randomly, there are times that are really tough.

It happened yesterday.

I hate that it happens.  I want to be completely past it.  I don’t want to complain, cry, any of that.  But sometimes, it’s still hard.

I wonder if it’s really this hard all time, but sometimes I’m just not strong enough to handle it.  I am usually strong. I have lots of experience. I can do most things that Michael needs me to help him with in my sleep.

But sometimes, it’s annoying. It’s frustrating, and it’s hard.  And I just wish we could both take a day off.

Things like just going somewhere are such a production.

I get ready.  He gets ready.  I feel all cute with curled hair and a pretty new dress.  We head out to the parking lot.  I bring a pair of shorts, because this is a new dress, and I’m not sure if I can squat deep enough in this dress to lift him for the transfer, or if I’m going to have to hike my dress up over my hips.

We are in a hurry.  Of course.

When am I going to learn to just slow down? Being in a hurry never works.  You can't speed quadriplegic stuff up.  It just doesn’t move any faster. Ever. Ugh!

I take my wedge heels off.  Because sometimes when I do a big lift, like into the SUV, with heels on, it hurts my lower back.  So, now I know. And I don’t lift in heels. Period. I don’t wear a lot of heels, especially when Michael and I are going somewhere in the car together.  But, like I said, I was dressed up.

I put my feet on the hot, gravely pavement. Squat deep, lift him out of his wheelchair and drop him off in the passenger seat.  Then, I pull him back, adjust his legs, put his left foot back in his shoe, which almost fell off in the transfer, put his seat belt on, kiss him on the cheek and close the door.  I turn the wheels off on the chair, push it to the back of the SUV, fold the backrest down, pick the chair up by the wheels, lift it into the back of the SUV, move it around to get it to the exact place it needs to be so that the hatchback will close.  I jump a little to pull the back of the car down.

Now, I need to adjust myself in my dress and put everything back where it started, walk over to the driver’s side, and get in.

My hands are dirty, I’m sweating now and I can feel my curls falling out of my hair, and there’s dirt on my new dress.

Great. Let’s go.

We get to where we are going, and park in a handicapped parking spot. Why are so many of these blue spots on HILLS? Will someone please explain this to me?  I get the chair out of the back, turn it on, put it beside the SUV, open Michael’s door, re-lock the chair because it rolled downhill slightly, un-do Michael’s seatbelt, reach under his knees and under his right armpit, and lift.  Also this time, with no shoes.  This transfer wasn’t as smooth (stupid hill) but he thankfully, does land in the wheelchair.  But, we need to do some adjustments.  So, I pull him to one side.  Then he leans forward and I tuck the back of his shirt back in.  Then I squat down to pull his pant legs down, I do NOT like to see any ankle! Then, I take his jacket out of the back seat. I help him into that, one arm at a time, then tucking it in in the back, and on the sides so the wheels don’t get the jacket dirty.  I help him back the chair away from the SUV, wipe my feet off with my dirty hands, put my shoes back on, grab my purse, lock the car, and we are on our way in.

I feel sweaty and dirty and tired, and I notice that he looks great.  Part of me thinks aw, he is so handsome all dressed up.  The other part of me, honestly, is jealous.  I wouldn’t mind showing up looking nice and feeling great.

We go inside, and then it’s the maze of weaving in and out and around a crowd where I feel like we are just in the way, and we are sticking out like sore thumbs, as we search for the one place where it is designed for a wheelchair to sit.  I’m thankful for these things, don’t get me wrong.  But in times like this – where I’m already focused on the negative – it’s just another reminder that we aren’t like everyone else.  We don’t just walk in and sit down anywhere we want.  We must sit here.  This is where someone else decided is a good place for us. 

As we navigate to our designated spot, people are moving out of the way like the Red Sea is parting.  They are uncomfortably over-accommodating, and instead of just saying hi, they are moving out of the way like someone is driving a Mack truck indoors.

We sit.

And enjoy.

Then, when it’s over, we get ready to leave.

I pull the car to another location, because I am just not feeling the lift on a hill.  Dangerous.  We do that whole transfer production again, and we are on our way.

That’s when the tears flow behind my big sunglasses.

Michael notices I’m upset.

And now I just feel horrible for ruining a perfectly wonderful day.

On the road, Michael points out a nice neighborhood of townhomes.  “Those look nice,” he says.  To which I reply “Yeah, they are. But we could never live in something like that.”

You know. Because we would need an elevator.

Michael gets frustrated.

I full-on cry.

He tries to comfort me, but I’m too busy feeling guilty to even see that he’s not judging my feelings of being tired of all of this, he’s trying to understand where I’m coming from.

Sometimes, it’s hard.  Sometimes, I still cry.   It doesn’t happen that often. Most days are fine.  Easy, even.  We just cruise along and rock this life out.

But sometimes, I just think it would be nice if we could go, get in the car, go somewhere, sit down and enjoy, and leave. 

I think it would be nice to think about the future and moving into a bigger place, without worrying about if it’s all on one floor, and if the bathroom doors are wide enough, and if he can get in the front door and out the back door by himself.  I hate thinking that we are going to be in an apartment on linoleum floors forever.

I love our floors. That’s not the point.

The point is, sometimes I step in the quicksand, and I sink.  The negative switch is flipped, then the lights are off. All I see is the darkness. Everything is harder, heavier, and I dread it all. 

This is where I need the Lord. Because, maybe I am strong enough most of the time to handle this life on my own. But – inevitably, the hard times will come.  It will be heavier, deeper, more challenging than I can handle on my own.  That challenge could be physical, mental, emotional or spiritual.  I need Him to do the heavy lifting.  Because sometimes my reserves of strength and courage run out.

And I end up crying behind my big sunglasses.

About the Last Two Weeks...

Oh my word. I am so far behind in blogging, I don't even know where to start.  I will tell you that that awesome menu plan I made DID NOT happen.  I made the sloppy joes two Sundays ago. And I made Chicken Stroganoff one night, and cooked cauliflower, but that's about it for that list.  I was gone a lot over the last two weeks, and when I was home we may or may not have eaten Lean Cuisines for dinner more than once. Jealous now? Oh yeah.

In the last two weeks I have been to Indianapolis, Ohio and Detroit.  I spent a weekend in DC for the White House Correspondents Dinner.  Michael and I spent the day with a lovely couple who reads this blog and was in town visiting.  I got sick. And better.

And now Michael is gone for a few days with his brother.  And next weekend, we leave for vacation with his family.

Phew!! I will attempt over the next couple of days to get caught up...

Weekly Menu Plan

Okay! After surveying our vegetable delivery for this week, and perusing the fridge, freezer and pantry, I am FINALLY done with the menu plan for this week.

(my apologies for the bad iPhone pic)

This is my Arganica delivery this week: spinach, baby spinach, lettuce, cauliflower, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, ramps, strawberries (we have already eaten these!) asparagus, mushrooms, sweet potatoes and apples.

Sunday:

Sloppy Joes with beef, onions and green peppers

Mashed cauliflower and cheese

Spinach salad with strawberries and walnuts with honey

Monday:

Tostadas with refried beans and roasted green peppers, tomatoes and avocado

Corn on the cob

Pico de gallo

Tuesday: (has to be a quick meal because we have small group)

Chicken mushroom stroganoff with whole grain penne pasta

Spinach salad with roasted red peppers

Wednesday:

Grilled tuna steaks with teriyaki sauce

Grilled asparagus with ramps

Garlic bread

Thursday:

Grilled chicken shish kabobs with green peppers, red onion, pineapple and cherry tomatoes

Served over brown rice

Roasted mushrooms with spinach

Ice cream

Friday:

Grilled steaks

Mashed maple sweet potatoes

Garden salad with cucumbers and tomatoes

Saturday:

Pulled pork sandwiches

Baked beans

Steamed broccoli

How Arganica Works

Last year, I decided we need to make more of an effort to eat healthier and more responsibly. 

Then, I fell off the wagon, because the frugal voice in my head spoke louder than the "eat healthy" voice in my head.

Well.

I'm back on the responsible eating/organic bandwagon.

Last week, I ordered a crate from Arganica.  Arganica is a farm club that brings local and organic produce and other items right to your doorstep.  They serve the DC area, and other parts of Virginia, I think.  If you don't live in Virginia, do a google search for local CSAs, and you might be able to find something similar in your area. You sign up for a membership ($20 a month) and then, as often as you want, you can order a crate to be delivered to your door.  Depending on where you live, the delivery will either be on Thursday or Sunday.  For us, it's Sunday mornings.

It pretty much feels like Christmas morning when you open your door first thing on Sunday morning and see this on your doorstep.

Note: When you order, you pay a deposit for the box, the liners that keep your items refrigerated, and if you order milk, the glass bottle.  You simply put them back in the box and set it out the next Saturday night, and when they are returned, Arganica will credit the deposits back to your account.

Last week was the first time I ordered milk.

The milk is from Homestead Creamery.  This is particularly exciting for me, because I used to live not that far from the creamery, and I remember my roommate's school kids (she was a teacher) going on a field trip there, and doing stories about the creamery at the local news station where I worked.

Who doesn't love milk in a glass bottle?  I do! I also love it, because it takes me back to one of my favorite old family pictures of all time.

That's me looking into my cup.  And that is my "little" brother with the awesome belly and leg rolls. This is seriously my favorite picture of him EVER.  It ALWAYS makes me laugh so hard!

Anyway. Back on topic.  Here's the contents of my crate last week.

I ordered the "Local only" crate, which is $40.00, plus the milk, which was $3.99 for half a gallon.  With my deposits, my order was about $50.00.

Remember - this is ALL LOCAL, ALL ORGANIC.  So, when you're comparing prices to your local supermarket, compare fairly!

I got a bag of white mushrooms, a big bag of spring mix lettuce, roma tomatoes, cauliflower, asparagus, pink lady apples, broccoli, a cucumber, a bunch of collard greens, ramps (which I thought were green onions on steroids, ha!) a large yellow onion, and those white things (can anyone tell me what they are? radishes?) Plus, the milk.

A week later, all that's left is the tomatoes (which I will make pico de gallo with today) some ramps, the cauliflower (which I will make cheesy mash with today), and the white things.

There are some great things about getting a delivery like this each week.

1.  It's just plain fun getting a boxed surprise on your doorstep!

2.  It forces you to eat more veggies, so that they don't go bad.  You comply, because you paid for it, and because you know it came straight from the farm, so you want to eat it, to honor the land and the farmers who worked hard to get you this food.

3. It forces you to learn how to cook new dishes.  Because you would ordinarily never buy some things like ramps, or white things. 

4.  You feel satisfied knowing that you are eating organically, which frees your body from nasty pesticides, and also means you are being responsible and promoting farming that is healthier for the land and the people who work the land.

So, as you can guess, I highly recommend it!

I want to do a weekly post about my Arganica delivery, and the menu I build each week off of it.  Let me know if that would be something you think is interesting, or if it's boring.  

Sometimes I feel like this blog is so random, and doesn't have ONE KEY focus.  But, such is life, right?  I mean, we all balance a lot of things.  

Sure, I'm a wife to a guy in a wheelchair.  But, I'm also a Christian, a TV news producer, a dog lover, a home cook, and a person who is trying to eat organically.  So, I guess you get to hear about all of that. Lucky you! Haha.