Monday, November 28, 2011
I don't know who I got this cold from, but I would like to give it back to them. I have had a sore throat for 2 days & the coughing started some last night & has been practically non-stop all day. Have tried several home remedies for the cough....so far nothing is working. Think I will go to bed early tonight (hope I can sleep without coughing all night).
My "whine time" is over........hope everyone else is healthy & feeling good!
P.S. This week is week 5 of my training program & I am supposed to walk 5K before week is over. Hope I am able to do this.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving....I did!
Mr. Bud is the name of a recipe for candy that I made in my Crock Pot for Thanksgiving. If you are interested you will find it on www.justapinch.com. It is definitely NOT Spark oriented, but is very good.
Thankfully, I did not gain any weight during the "feast" & cooking. I encouraged everyone to eat the candy (along with the fudge & peanut brittle) & take the rest home. (never had to "twist anyone's arm" either) Now that it is gone (except what I put in the freezer for Christmas...it makes A LOT), I can get back to eating better.
Have a great Spark filled day!!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Shirley & Marcy
A mother was concerned about her kindergarten son walking to school.
He didn't want his mother to walk with him.
She wanted to give him the feeling that he had some independence but yet know that he was safe.
So she had an idea of how to handle it.
She asked a neighbor if she would please follow him to school in the mornings, staying at a distance,
So he probably wouldn't notice her.
She said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed.
The next school day, the neighbor and her little girl set out following behind Timmy as he walked to school, with another neighbor girl he knew.
She did this for the whole week.
As the two walked and chatted, kicking stones and twigs,
Timmy 's little friend noticed the same lady was following them as she seemed to do every day all week.
Finally she said to Timmy , "Have you noticed that lady following us to school all week? Do you know her?"
Timmy nonchalantly replied, "Yeah, I know who she is."
The little girl said, "Well, who is she?"
"That's just Shirley Goodnest, and her daughter, Marcy ." Timmy replied,
' Shirley Goodnest ? Who is she, and why is she following us?
"Well," Timmy explained, "Every night my Mom makes me say the 23rd Psalm with my prayers, 'cuz she worries about me so much.
And in the Psalm, it says, "Shirley Goodnest (surely goodness) and Marcy (mercy) shall follow me all the days of my life." "So, I guess I'll just have to get used to it!"
The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you; the Lord lift His countenance upon you, and give you peace.
May Shirley Goodnest and Marcy be with you today and always...
Monday, November 21, 2011
This was borrowed from a Guideposts article:
A Family to Be Thankful For
A mother of four has her faith restored by store-bought pies and the prayer of a child.
By Cynthia Cutts, Lincoln, California
I knew putting together a traditional Thanksgiving dinner would take extra organization, what with four kids (two still in diapers) and my husband, Jerry, working long hours. So I wrote a to-do list and stuck it on the fridge at the beginning of the week. I figured I’d cross off a few items each day.
But now it was the day before Thanksgiving and nothing was done. Not the fresh cranberry sauce. Or the homemade dinner rolls. Not even the most important thing on our family’s menu—the pies. Pumpkin and apple, made from scratch using recipes passed down from my mom and Jerry’s.
I put Halley and Casey down for their naps. Now I can start the pies, I thought, setting the ingredients out. The phone rang. Justin, my 13-year-old.
“Mom, can you bring my basketball uniform to school? I just found out we have a game tonight.”
“Sure,” I said, stifling a sigh. I hung up and saw that a stack of newspapers had been dropped off in the drive for my nine-year-old, Corbett, to deliver. The papers were bulging with Thanksgiving ads. Corbett couldn’t carry them on his bike. I’d have to drive him.
I took out the trash, hauled in the papers, then cleaned sticky fingerprints from the fridge. There, practically smirking at me, was my to-do list. I checked my watch: 3:45 already?! The door slammed. “Hi, Mom,” Corbett said.
“Corbett, your brother has a game so let’s get your paper route done,” I said. I bundled the babies into their car seats, then ran back for Justin’s uniform. I looked at the apples, pumpkin and spices on the counter. “Guess I’m not making those pies now,” I grumbled.
Jerry got out of work early enough to go to the game, but by the time we got home, ate dinner and tucked the kids in, it was almost 10:00 P.M. The sight of the pie ingredients on the counter made me want to cry. I sat down and buried my head in my arms.
“What’s wrong?” Jerry asked.
“I wanted Thanksgiving to be perfect,” I moaned, “but I never even had time to make pies!”
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll just buy some,” he said.
“We can’t buy Thanksgiving pies!”
“Sure, we can,” Jerry said.
“But they won’t be our family’s pies.”
Jerry gave me a hug. “The kids won’t care. They’ll eat anything. You’re so busy taking care of everyone. Let the boys and me take over this Thanksgiving.”
“Fine,” I said, too tired to argue.
The next morning I surrendered the kitchen to the guys. Six hours later Corbett came to get me. I followed him into the dining room. There on the table was a Thanksgiving feast. A beautifully browned turkey, Jerry’s handiwork. Cranberry sauce and hot dinner rolls, both straight from a can and proudly prepared by Corbett. Sweet potatoes topped with melted marshmallows, and instant mashed potatoes, whipped up by Justin. And on the sideboard sat the pies—apple and pumpkin, store-bought.
We sat down and Corbett said grace. “Dear God, thanks for all the food, especially the yummy pies. Thank you for a great mom who does so much for us. Thanks most of all that we get to be together. Amen.”
I opened my eyes and looked around the table. Corbett was right. Being together was what mattered. I’d gotten my perfect Thanksgiving after all.
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