tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-175620283743443812024-03-07T19:46:12.610-08:00Wetterlings WanderingsMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-79014266914717200662011-09-10T19:56:00.000-07:002011-09-10T19:56:47.664-07:00Hiking in Southern UtahOn August 14, 2011 after church the four of us got into the car and headed south from Oregon towards Utah. Ron and Vicki (our pastors and friends) joined Aaron and me on this expedition to see the nature that God so beautifully created in Utah.<br />
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Our first stop was Zion Canyon National Park. Our motel was in Springdale, UT and we drove in and out of the park several times in our 2 days there. Having a Senior Pass makes a difference. Just give them the card with your ID and you are in. We took the shuttles provided and saw everything. We did a lot of hiking. I was so pleased that I could hike much more easily after having lost so much weight and all the exercise I've done in the past year and a half.<br />
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Next was Bryce Canyon--just a couple hours down the road. Here we stayed at Bryce Canyon City. A very small city all virtually owned by one family. Huge motel, shopping, restaurants and a rodeo--all owned by the family. At Bryce you can do more driving in your private vehicle, but there is a shuttle bus you can take in also. The Forest Service was doing proscribed burns so it was very smoky. But it was beautiful anyway and we did a lot of hiking. Aaron and Ron attempted to climb to the top of Angels Landing but didn't make it completely to the top. A very steep trail, sheer drop-offs, and lots of other climbers led them to only go about 2/3 of the way. Vicki and I did our own hiking on safer and lower trails.<br />
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Then it was off to Arches National Park. Again going in and out and in and out. Lots of walking to see various arches, to catch the sunset and sunrise. Watching the tourists from other countries enjoy the beautiful sights in the USA was enjoyable.<br />
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This Tuesday, Sept. 13, Aaron and I leave for another trip. Another trip....another blog.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-43636064657567196012011-06-28T11:12:00.000-07:002011-06-28T11:12:54.506-07:00Staying at homeIn January we planned a trip to Sweden. We would have left on June 6 and been in Denmark, Norway and Sweden until nearly the end of June. Part of it would have been a tour and part of it we'd have left the tour group to visit the Swedish relatives. Not enough people signed up for the tour and that particular one was cancelled the middle of April. We received our $2000 deposit back and that money is now safely ensconced in the credit union. We'll use it to take a trip part of the way across the beautiful USA in September.<br />
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I think both of us are ready for a trip, but we just have to wait for awhile.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-17002243930933318522011-06-28T11:07:00.001-07:002011-06-28T11:07:40.938-07:00Facing My FactsFood! It's what I think about nearly all of my waking hours. What to have for breakfast; what not to have for breakfast. Lunch....dinner....snacks. Has it been long enough since breakfast to have my morning snack? Has it been long enough since lunch, dinner? Am I really hungry? Am I bored? How much should I exercise? Cut back? Do more? Eat less? Eat more? Eat my exercise calories burned? Don't eat my exercise calories burned? Just about the only time I'm not thinking about this is when I'm asleep.<br />
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People compliment me often. It is a good thing I am not a nudist, because if I were NO ONE would say anything nice. The wrinkly skin on my arms. The saggy belly. The way my thighs spread out when I'm sitting down. The ugly fat pouches on either knee, but especially the left. My knee fat pads slap together when i walk.<br />
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And this is how it is since I've lost over 60 pounds. I've been in the same place for the most part for over a year and a half. I exercise 6 days a week. I faithfully log my food eaten in the diary unless when traveling makes it impossible.<br />
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I'm told to "hang in there." That eventually it will come off. My husband tells me that. My TOPS friends tell me that. My Calorie King friends tell me that. I'm beginning to not believe it. I cannot get under and stay below 200.<br />
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I've given up Chinese food, most Mexican food, restaurant soup. I seldom have french fries anymore. Pizza? 3-4 times a year. A milkshake. What's that? <br />
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My closest friend told me I talk about my weight too much so I try not to do that anymore. Sometimes it's hard to not have someone to vent to. But other people need to vent also. So I'm trying to keep my mouth shut in the public setting.<br />
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I'm 63. Will I ever learn the perfect way to do this?<br />
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Am I alone in feeling this way? No. I know I'm not alone.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-28638883705550403572010-02-01T08:41:00.000-08:002010-02-01T08:47:13.518-08:00Life and DeathOn January 2, 2010 my mother, Delight Goodwin, aged 90, passed away peacefully. My dad was able to sit by her bed for several hours that morning but she never responded to any of his talking or his touch. They had been married for 67 years and although it was very difficult for him to say goodbye to her, he was very thankful that she did not suffer.<div><br /></div><div>The memorial service was held on January 7 and all 5 of her grandchildren were able to be here for the service. My nephew in the USMC received permission to be here for the week and we are so grateful that he could come. My son and his wife flew in from Texas, a granddaughter and grandson from California and our daughter from just 60 miles away. It was a sad time, but also a happy time as memories were shared. Lots of laughs, some tears, good memories.</div><div><br /></div><div>My mother was the oldest of her siblings and she outlived them all. Her youngest brother by 11 years passed away from cancer in the summer of 2009.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our journeys continue. My mother journeyed to heaven, my father journeyed to live with us and Aaron and I continue in our journey of adjustment.</div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-87612879957533173292010-01-01T10:09:00.000-08:002010-01-01T10:18:28.451-08:00New Year's Day, 2010<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 95px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NuxW0OR6eB82e_GLIlRHWuABURXg5USKyoX9iiHuEOo2aVDDkGAd8cQEBRuxK9FSCuf3yCo5wtpcE-b-PaEa35WMUvjPDafnvy5q4pOcxGMkXBUOtODMn7qaeJegcFIkWRC2u4K0UQ/s200/DSCF0976.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421837268332014034" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 78px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCi4MhF-DxeruMBK4MYnlSysSRla0wWI4BIwGGPVAFN2SmekN1Ax7i7qpwxUr88rLri-rG54MlBq9hy66IWUsRtOdiEhDz9-wVdu2gGPWJGLsuogzcdiadyXi_BF70mzveYgGp_a_QUg/s200/DSCF0978_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421837275385614610" />I used to wear size 22 pants, now I'm in size 16 and loving it.<br /><br />One thing I don't like about New Year's Day is FOOTBALL. I can only handle so much of the game and so my friend Vicki and I are planning on driving 30 miles across the Columbia River to Kennewick, WA to do some shopping IF the roads are not all icy.<div><br /></div><div>This past year has been good and bad. The good was spending 4 months in Botswana and Namibia, celebrating 39 years of marriage, and having wonderful children and grandchildren.</div><div><br /></div><div>The bad has included the deterioration of my mother to the point where she and my dad can no longer live together after almost 68 years of marriage. They were in assisted living for 2.5 months and then my mom had to be moved to a facility in which she could receive the care she needs--being lifted for everything. My dad, who is still very active and has recently had open heart surgery, moved in with us on Dec. 30 and will be with us until ???? That is an open-ended date. It could possibly be for the rest of his life. He is easy to have around although it does change some of our privacy issues, but we'll work it all out.</div><div><br /></div><div>My challenge to myself for this year is to get to my goal weight. Today I am 204.4 and my goal is 170. I would like to be that by August 13 when we go on our 2nd Alaskan cruise. When I do reach 170 I may change my goal to 165. I think if I were to go much lower at the age of almost 62 I would look very haggard.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-85455630245356519212009-11-10T14:55:00.000-08:002009-11-10T14:56:26.201-08:00USMC--Birthday of a Giant<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div>Happy Birthday to the Marine Corps!<div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">Older than the nation it defends. Feared by militaries around the world. The Few, The Proud.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">As I tapped out that last line I remembered that not all happy with their decision to join the Marines. Let me tell you my side of the story.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">In 1966 the local draft board in Newport News, VA sent me a cutesy little letter informing me that I, a registered sophomore in college, was now classified as a 1-A and not a 2-S. I was eligible for the draft. That put a quick damper on my immediate future as a college student. A day or two later I received a short handwritten letter from my mom in which she had enclosed a clipping from the local newspaper. The clipping stated that several hundred (memory says 'thousands') Virginia young men would be called up in the very near future and many were in college. The war in Vietnam was escalating.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">I had already registered for the fall term but quickly put the skids to my educational future by informing the registrar that I was withdrawing from school. The college president got wind of it and called me into the office for a quick chat. I think he was more concerned about the basketball team (I was a starting guard at the small college in Pennsylvania... never would've made the team at a bigger school) than my education. I politely informed him that my decision was final, shook his hand, and left to pack away my things.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">The following morning mom and dad arrived at the school shortly after breakfast, having left home 6 hours earlier, to give me a ride home. One year earlier they had dropped me off at college and were now retrieving me. Six hours later I was back into my former bedroom. A college dropout. </div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">The draft board and the recruiting services were all sequestered in the basement of the marbled post office in downtown Newport News just a few yards from the arch that many a soldier and sailor saw when either departing or returning from WW2.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">I went into the draft board office and met the gray haired witch of conscription, Esther Davis. Isn't it amazing that I can remember such a person? We were told that she loved her job. After presenting my draft card I asked, "How soon will I be called up?" With nary a smile she said, "Soon."</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">It did not take me but milliseconds to depart her office and walk across the hall to the Navy recruiter and ask the petty officer, "Where do I sign up?" My older brother had been in the Navy Reserve and I wanted to go Navy as well. I figured with one year of college behind me I could wrangle a good job and be off to boot camp. "Sorry, but we're booked up for six months. Can't get you in." </div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">The Air Force recruiter said the same thing. I had grown up with Army brats so I didn't want to go Army. Back to the Navy recruiter who suggested the Marines. No way, I knew enough of their history that I didn't want anything to do with them. I went to the Naval Reserve Center to sign up. "Bring in a buddy and we'll sign you up." I gave him a frank, "No," because I wouldn't drag a friend into the military at my expense.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">I went back to the PO and visited the Marine Recruiter who said few words and never promised me a rose garden. He asked a few questions and offered me something that appealed to my interest. Aviation, mechanic.. We filled out the paperwork and the next morning I was off to Richmond to the Selective Service Center to take my physical. Never saw so many lines of semi-naked young men holding paperwork with large letters stamped at the top, "DRAFTED." When the processing personnel saw "ENLISTED" at the top of my paperwork I was ushered to the front of each line. By the end of the shift I was on the Greyhound back to Newport News.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">To make it short, in six days I was out of college and on my way to boot camp at Parris Island, SC. In a few short words let me describe MCRD, Marine Corps Recruit Depot, eight weeks of hell.. During that time they turned me into a Marine that was proud of his selection, his unit, and his country. My weight jumped from 170 to 195 and I was in top shape.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">After four more weeks of combat training at Camp Geiger it was off to Cherry Point for aviation school. Following NAMTRADET I was assigned to H & MS-24 where I spent the next 18 months in OJT. On Sept 9, 1968 I volunteered for Vietnam. In August of 1969 over 650 Marines were withdrawn from Chu Lai to Iwakuni, Japan. From Japan to El Toro, California where I was discharged.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">During my four years in the Marines I learned that not all people are happy with their decision but we made the most of it, did our job, did it well. Marines are a weird bunch of people. If they're not fighting the enemy they're looking for a fight with the other military branches (poor Navy personnel), and if they weren't available, we'd fight amongst ourselves. Not me necessarily, I thought of myself as more of a lover than a fighter and I only had two scuffles during my enlistment and won them both. One of my Virginia buddies, Don Tipton, and I would literally wrestle for an hour or more or until one of us nearly passed out from exhaustion. </div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">Many young men have had the thought that they'd never make it in the Marines but let me assure, the Marines will turn a young man into a Marine. You cannot go from one branch of the military into the Marines without going through boot camp whereas you can transfer from the Marines (at the end of your enlistment) into other branches of the service.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">So, today, 234 years after its birth, the Marines are celebrating another birthday. </div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">While in Botswana this past year I was in a restaurant at Riverwalk when I spotted two young men walking away. I quickly got up and followed them outside and called, "Gentlemen!" Neither one turned around or acknowledged me. "Semper Fi," I called and immediately they stopped and turned around. I introduced myself, "Aaron Wetterling, former Sergeant, former Marine." We shook hands.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">"Are we that noticeable?"</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">I replied, " It takes one to know one."</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">Happy Birthday, Marines. Semper Fi.</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">Aaron Wetterling</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">former sergeant, former Marine</div></span></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-48922175461739145992009-11-07T19:39:00.000-08:002009-11-07T19:40:31.202-08:00Some funny writing from my husband<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Marker Felt';font-size:7;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 36px; ">Toast and Jam</span></span></div><div><br /></div>Here I sit, at my computer, whiling away, thinking of friends faraway in Balalaland. They never seem to write despite the fact they now live in the computer age.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; ">My wife peers over and shoulder and asks<i>, "Why are you writing a letter like that?" </i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm not going to email it... just putting my thoughts to paper... you know, therapy. Get it off my chest, so to speak."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"Don't you dare send it... it'll hurt their feelings and they may never stop by to see us again."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"Yeah, I know, but at our age all I have left to do is remember the good old days, basketball, dinner out, them coming over to our house, us going over to their house, the kids squealing and crying all the while playing together, us drinking coffee and shootin' the breeze. Life was good."</div><div><br /></div><div>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>We were much younger then. Life has changed. Times have changed, people just don't seem to communicate any more. In the old days people just showed up for a visit and stayed until the chickens went to roost. Then it was the telephone... two longs and a short and everyone picked up the line... you could hear the neighbors' phones click as they listened in on the party line..."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"My aunt and uncle had a phone like that... even I listened in one time."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"Then we got a private line and it cost a dollar more a month for the service but it was worth it, I'm sure."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"You had a phone? We had to use the neighbor's."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"With the advantages of the phone people quit visiting, or so it seemed."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"'If you decide to come over please call first,' yeah, right. Poor excuse."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"Probably glued to the tube most of the time."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"Then if you call, and you do get invited, it has to be during a time when their favorite show is not on. Then they don't turn off the TV during the visit. You practically have to shout over the noise. In the old days you could tell the noisy kids to go outside and play but you can't do that to the TV."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"Ah, the good old days. Remember them well."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"Things changed when we moved... left a lot of good friends and good times behind."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"B</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>ut the memories followed right along and one day they too will fade."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"Shouldn't be the case, not with the internet. Just tap out a few words, hit 'send' and within seconds they have a message." </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"The</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i> trouble with email is the nonsense people 'forward' to you thinking you'll enjoy their thoughtfulness. If you're so thoughtful spend a few minutes and tap out a real message and tell us what is going on in your life. Sheesh." </i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"That sort of went by the wayside with 'My Space' and 'Face Book....even Twitter' People don't mind talking about their personal lives right out in public. Just like people who have cell phones. Give their pertinent information out loud for all the world to hear and then shoot you a dirty look if you appear to be listening. Crazy."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"When I was younger people would whisper into the phone for the sake of privacy.... or they'd use a phone booth and shut the door. Now people walk down the street, or in circles, telling the world as well as the person on the other end all that is going on in their life."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"More like a status symbol...'I have a cell phone... see how big and purty it is? It has more buttons than your keyboard!'"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"How about this: 'My cell phone has more giga-bytes than your satellite TV dish! I can watch an entire movie and ignore you at the same time.'"</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"Do people really want to be friends or just appear friendly?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>Good question." </i></span></span></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"</i>When I was a kid you could get up a ball game by word of mouth faster than person with a cell phone. Or you could get a group of kids together and go for a bike ride, all for the sake of doing something on a summer evening." </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"We used to ride our bikes all the way to Umatilla for an ice cream cone."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"Now we ride stationary bikes so we don't go anywhere that we might be seen."</div><div><br /></div><div>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>Yeah, with an iPOD in one ear and a Blue Tooth in the other. Don't want to miss a call while we're being entertained and reducing our derriere. Then on the way home we stop by the DQ window and order a small cone and as we pull away we see someone we know and are glad that they are inside and we're driving away and don't have to visit."</i></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>"Then we flip them the gesture of the thumb in the ear and pinkie to the lips and mouth the words, 'Call me.'"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; "><i>"I guess we just want to appear friendly."</i></span></span></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; ">"Uh oh!"</span></span></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"What did you do?"</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>"</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:180%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px; ">I sent it."</span></span></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div></span>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-83795120312351484622009-09-21T05:11:00.000-07:002009-09-21T05:18:48.271-07:00Our adventure is almost overAfter 4 months in Africa, we are now only 3000 miles from home, having spent the night near Dulles International Airport.<br /><br />At 1 p.m. Eastern time we'll catch a United flight winging our way towards Seattle. Then a brief layover until evening when we'll fly about 45 minutes to Pasco, Washington. It will be good to see our pastor and wife and catch up on everything that happened this summer. Then home to our very own bed and I hope we sleep all night long.<br /><br />Tomorrow my dear mother turns 90 years old and we are having a simple birthday party for her. Shortly after we are settled we'll be working on getting my parents into an assisted living facility. My father is having more and more difficulty in caring for my mother, as she cannot walk at all.<br /><br />We are looking forward to seeing our grandkids in Milton-Freewater and then going to Texas in November to see our son and family. <br /><br />It's been an incredible summer, but it is now time to go home. You CAN go home again.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-28978103480682387922009-09-10T23:23:00.000-07:002009-09-10T23:29:45.130-07:00Saying GoodbyeThe time has come to begin the Goodbyes to Botswana and to the wonderful people with whom we have become friends. <div><br /></div><div>When we arrived in May at least this time we knew what to do and so we could hit the ground running. The first year we came in 2006, when Janet took us to the grocery store to stock up our little flat, I couldn't even hardly think of what to buy as I was feeling a little overwhelmed. Now....living here is a breeze. <div><br /></div><div>For many that we say Goodbye to we are fairly certain we will never see them again this side of Heaven. There is Noah and Kabelo--a dear engaged couple with whom we have become close. They'll be getting married next April.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tinaye has been such a marvelous help to Aaron and he and Aaron have become great friends. Aaron has introduced the new world of "Coffee Break" to him and Tinaye loves to have a cup of hot chocolate at one of the coffee places.</div><div><br /></div><div>Chuck and Janet have been friends for around 30 years and we have so enjoyed helping them out here in Botswana. Mark and Victoria in Namibia we only met in 2007 but we are close to them and it was wonderful to be able to take a side trip to Namibia for 12 days.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Sept. 16 we begin the long, long trip home. And as difficult as it is to leave, arriving home and seeing the kids, the grandkids, and my elderly parents will be wonderful</div><div><br /></div><div>My prayer for those we leave behind is: "God be with you til we meet again."</div></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-54118915323710133102009-09-05T05:42:00.000-07:002009-09-05T06:34:41.080-07:00Driving Me Crazy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvSkpdb9n4yqZsrRArW_rGtFYvq7h12qwBacI4zqlE9qL6GPq4_wGGJ-ziIyGvdZ-5kTqL83sv67D6_M19uv9oNE-9L5dv7GHPZYdrb6CS388XSq1wkH04rnP0mEku60bV9XD4ErFvw/s1600-h/DSCF0526.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvSkpdb9n4yqZsrRArW_rGtFYvq7h12qwBacI4zqlE9qL6GPq4_wGGJ-ziIyGvdZ-5kTqL83sv67D6_M19uv9oNE-9L5dv7GHPZYdrb6CS388XSq1wkH04rnP0mEku60bV9XD4ErFvw/s200/DSCF0526.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377965288790775426" /></a><br />Evidently it is fairly common here in Botswana for people to not have a driver's license or carry car insurance. At least it is common for the 2 people who have plowed into us since August 25. (Today is Sept. 5)<div><br /></div><div>The first accident occurred right in front of policemen so there was no quarrel with whose fault it was. BUT, the police did not even ask to see the other guy's license, registration or proof of insurance. I guess it is a good thing, because he had NONE of the 3. I know this happens in the USA but I think that licensed, insured and registered drivers far outnumber those who are not.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today we were in the parking lot of the nearby mall, getting ready to enter onto a side road to head towards home. A young lady driving a Mazda 3, newer model, was distracted (her word) and failed to see the stop sign. Fortunately Aaron saw her barreling towards us at a rate of speed that was WAY too high for a parking lot. If he had not slammed on the brakes, she would have hit our pickup in the passenger door and I probably would have been hurt.</div><div><br /></div><div>When speaking with her and obtaining her name, phone number, etc., we discovered she had no license, and no insurance. How could we be so lucky to have two people hit us in two different vehicles who are both uninsured, etc.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am thankful that in both cases no one was hurt.</div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-91781810610596464392009-07-16T04:22:00.000-07:002009-07-16T04:24:16.728-07:00Two Months in Botswana<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">We have been in country for two months and a lot has been accomplished. Aaron is very busy building, fixing, maintaining, and being the go-to guy. He thrives on it, even though it makes him very tired at night. So far I have 269 of the books entered in to the computer so that job is going along very well. I just finished listening to Michael J. Fox's latest book, and now I have a new one to start--Bill O'Reilly's "A Bold Fresh Piece of Humanity." I bought it from Barnes and Noble, downloaded it to the computer, then to iTunes and then to my iPod. Easy--well, pretty easy. Yesterday we had an appt. at the Embassy to get new pages put in to our passports. We might not need them before the passport expires in 2011, but just in case. Because the consular is going home later this month and in August, we had to make an appt. and the day available to us was the 15th, and the time given was 10. No choice in that area. We got there a little early, went through the check-in procedures and security, and were escorted to the office in the embassy. Aaron, of course, spoke to the Marines on duty (I sure wish my nephew could get that easy duty.) When we went inside there was a lady sitting there who appeared to be upset. CNN was on and the volume was down. I asked the lady if she was okay and she said she just didn't like hearing the news. We got to talking and found out that she and her husband have lived in Botswana since '92. He was a commercial airlines pilot but is now a pilot for Missionary Aviation Fellowship. This couple adopted a child from Botswana who when she was 10 days old was in an accident with her parents and another person. They were in a pickup when the accident occurred and the baby was thrown out and landed on her head. She lay on the road until sometime the next day before being discovered. The people who adopted her were told that she'd be blind, never be able to walk or to talk. But she is now 8. She can see (although she'd be considered legally blind) and she can walk and talk a bluestreak. The family spent 5 years in America getting her the medical help she needed. The mom was there to pick up her new passport since they are making a trip to the States to see family. We were at the Embassy for about 1.5 hours so it was nice to have this lady to talk to. After we got our passports back, we came back home for awhile before heading out to a hotel for lunch. Some mission executives from Springfield, MO were here very briefly and lunch was part of the plans. We went to the Grand Palm Hotel where they serve a buffet that would knock your eyes out. I threw caution to the wind and ate anything I wanted, and I seemed to want a lot. While I was out getting a dessert for Aaron and me, they execs were question Aaron about our future plans. Now all along we'd planned that this would be our last trip over here. We pay for this ourselves and maybe out kids want us to leave them a little something when we go to heaven! Actually, I think they are pleased that we are serving God in this manner and don't mind the money we spend. These guys told Aaron that we could be used in a lot of places. So who knows where we'll end up next. Every day is an adventure when Jesus is in control. <br /></span>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-17666244035103602102009-06-05T08:08:00.001-07:002009-06-05T08:51:39.855-07:00WWHWWWH<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhocEaJrHx_dHmtq3e2IQKO3htl38KTvJhaFKC8X99DmifhZfGSJE1ZK1xqD12OI8jTmN_D08CUNx1NfSRg6njpf9N38vCS7naxuLXVYDkp-0s3QbSI4bQhXgguHNHVK6WJ0SB2AfJg/s200/DSCF0233.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343861874121876898" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xe1w8f8wXlsN1idi5ocu_s_WU864Oqk0lkp5DTm-GMblAOhGQmcESH7pgHG1HekadilumpOBMg-zB27wOw_TxfMRh17euHcLrl-Gu-Mz_eAv5jlK_Zu_6BAGKSwEVXNy3hNUDeb5PQ/s200/DSCF0222.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343869531600036306" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfQtXWrPEEGCcQWC0QqN_kEoog1_kG2AlvLFOhMjuXlyJ_bIo2bfjbbGbhm-Usfb2RhVFforrE6zP9iKRGVpNS10Qz5CSS_w-MtDxocgXgw9JPgbVMzORvOjXE_G3sZ2WaCv1puUgTQ/s1600-h/DSCF0234.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfQtXWrPEEGCcQWC0QqN_kEoog1_kG2AlvLFOhMjuXlyJ_bIo2bfjbbGbhm-Usfb2RhVFforrE6zP9iKRGVpNS10Qz5CSS_w-MtDxocgXgw9JPgbVMzORvOjXE_G3sZ2WaCv1puUgTQ/s200/DSCF0234.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343867733443952402" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYvDqDfB6-u70sDoyLDyK4-7-xGZ-EGmY7EW0mHBM6ajpx42_l5MF5f2EQUdTiYDtgTduPF31vQ7rD9_M8rmXD9MuL7-jx5bbLNFs9yzY5grBRZsUhedPag02MMiUqtGyIZnpzgaUuw/s200/DSCF0216.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343862909499502498" /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">June 5 ended the first week of Fundamentals of Music. To demonstrate one of the Musical Skills--Creating, I broke the class into 4 groups and assigned them the scripture Psalms 145:8 to create a song. To the left you see a group outside practicing. The other photos reflect the performances. Oh what fun it was!</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkRZQSUzdOvHshiQ3jXta82OnCE93-o-9wbB3I1Qgo9pETwJP0HXpnqQJYfQ4Ym5wz_7G2ZmKGoCNgX09T2rafonNh4lKP_xpZ8TTHGluGn88en1oW7TLXl-G2JENZQdtEq0kwnINww/s200/DSCF0227.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343864266768177522" /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>Today we worked on the major scales, thus the WWHWWH you see in the title line. A major scale is Whole step, Whole step, Half step, etc. I had a keyboard on my projection so could write on the white board to demonstrate a scale. I think we made very good progress.</div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-58678249909647364832009-05-21T04:11:00.000-07:002009-05-21T04:22:33.886-07:00Nothing to Sneeze At<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjq2yi69yfSaByrWh9Qxgm_OgENPT5zNhIQ1F5Ige5KKmkH1mSONzHEbywGq5CZDZa9ATlJWpWkJ9Wk4ObL73lUDnq8zW2uXEOEPyRfYr8rasVJ3OR14NsATYco45PBujFXiGJdmTy5A/s1600-h/DSCF0156.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjq2yi69yfSaByrWh9Qxgm_OgENPT5zNhIQ1F5Ige5KKmkH1mSONzHEbywGq5CZDZa9ATlJWpWkJ9Wk4ObL73lUDnq8zW2uXEOEPyRfYr8rasVJ3OR14NsATYco45PBujFXiGJdmTy5A/s200/DSCF0156.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338236030829510434" /></a><br />As we entered the country of Botswana, as residents of the United States of America, we were asked to fill out a form concerning the Swine Flu--now known as N1K1 or something. Fortunately we have not been touched with that illness so could safely answer No to all of the queries. I wonder if we would have been allowed in to the country if we'd had any of the symptoms.<div><br /></div><div>I have been rearranging library books to get all of a certain Dewey Decimal number together. Books of a similar number were on 2 sides of a book case, making finding a book more difficult. A student who also has a BA degree but is now training to be a pastor, is the paid library assistant so he pitched in and helped me and I really appreciated his help.</div><div><br /></div><div>So far I have not started the work of adding the 600 new books. Besides the work of entering each book into the computer, printing out bar codes and spine labels and applying them, there will also be much more moving of books to accommodate the new ones. Aaron is going to build a new book case. By the time I have finished I will have handled thousands of books--moving them, moving them, moving them.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-20600848812343839342009-05-17T06:58:00.000-07:002009-05-17T07:05:11.495-07:00Faster than a speeding bulletIt was nice to travel directly from Washington, D.C. to Johannesburg, but this year that didn't happen. There were several passengers who disembarked in Senegal and new passengers came on. Although our flight was a little bumpy, the worst part is the sheer boredom of being locked inside a bullet shaped apparatus, hurtling through the night skies at over 600 miles an hour.<div><br /></div><div>I watched "Australia" and a couple of other movies and thanks to a nice little pill (very legal) I was able to sleep for about 6 of the hours after taking off from Senegal.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is rather cool here in Tlokweng, not cold....just cool. It is winter but the daytimes are generally warm and sunny.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jet lag is a definite problem right now. Aaron is lying on the bed snoring away and I'm desperately trying to stay awake. Sleep may win unless I can keep moving.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-34913694654669020492009-05-14T07:05:00.000-07:002009-05-14T07:07:19.969-07:00It BeginsToday we fly to Seattle from Pasco, WA where we will spend the night AND have dinner at The Cheesecake Factory with a cousin we've never met. Tomorrow morning we depart from Sea-Tac for Dulles International, and then in the evening on to Johannesburg, South Africa.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-50624014341707951282009-05-07T07:31:00.000-07:002009-05-07T07:38:24.416-07:00The Countdown BeginsOne week from today our journey towards Botswana will begin. It will begin with a short flight to Seattle where we will spend the night and a cousin whom we have never met will take us to The Cheesecake Factory for dinner. I hope they have something besides cheesecake, although I'm sure a small piece will find its way into my stomach.<div><br /></div><div>I am diligently working on my Keynote (Powerpoint) presentation for the music class I'll be teaching. I'm about 2/3 of the way done but the going is a little slow right now. If I'm not finished up before we leave I can finish in Botswana.</div><div><br /></div><div>The suitcases are on the guest room bed and a few things have been moved to that area. We are taking tape, bar code labels, and spine labels with us for the almost 600 books I'll be cataloging. No, our trips to Africa are not just fun and games. We go to work for Jesus Christ, for the missionaries, and for the Assemblies of God.</div><div><br /></div><div>People have asked me if "the church" pays our way. The answer is "No." We pay our own way. We do have friends and relatives and our church who give us donations. Any money donated will be used to further the work there. Our daughter gave us money to buy shoes for children and so we will help our minister friend's family and bless the children with new school shoes. The other monies given to us will be given to the missionary to help fund the new kitchen in the Bible School.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-90675166462769699562009-04-18T18:39:00.000-07:002009-04-23T21:45:55.739-07:00My Granddaughter--the next Top ChefHere is a recipe that Karen (age 10) came up with on her own. Her mother was somewhat dubious over a couple of the ingredients but she said it tasted very good. Yesterday Karen gave me the recipe and I have purchased the necessary items to make it this week.<div><br /></div><div>HAM AND VEGGIE STEW</div><div><br /></div><div>INGREDIENTS:</div><div>5-6 pinches of Curry-Powder</div><div>3 Full sized carrots</div><div>3 Whole Potatoes</div><div>2-3 Cups of Ham (leftovers or preheated, or turkey)</div><div>1-2 Pinches of Rosemary</div><div>3 cubes of Chicken Broth</div><div><br /></div><div>My daughter says to add about 6 cups of water or it'll be very thick.</div><div><br /></div><div>Skin the carrots and potatoes completely. Chop into bite sized pieces. Put into boiling water until the carrots are soft enough a baby can chew it, but not too mush. Make the meat into pieces like the veggies, then add. Let it stew for a bit. Add the cubes of chicken broth and pinch in the curry. Stir, then add the rosemary. Let it stew some more, and when done, and serve immediately, but it needs to chill or your mouth will burn! I hope you enjoy this recipe, because I did!</div><div><br /></div><div>Made up by a ten year old all by herself, her mother didn't help her at all!<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-66385171038580832892009-03-27T10:13:00.000-07:002009-03-27T10:25:43.218-07:00It's All Lining Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssDhLIalwyJ87pa4uFE1l-XKpnNXWld5tiwMaW8CUzENNbvEPaLo7Z44hO5QkM0EUX0k4bKSUsSlAIM6d3o_x305VEctecVdGEn3dFuFcXsmGYPE1VGQXOufk1cYmhblkGj8mtlAkYQ/s1600-h/P1010066.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssDhLIalwyJ87pa4uFE1l-XKpnNXWld5tiwMaW8CUzENNbvEPaLo7Z44hO5QkM0EUX0k4bKSUsSlAIM6d3o_x305VEctecVdGEn3dFuFcXsmGYPE1VGQXOufk1cYmhblkGj8mtlAkYQ/s200/P1010066.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317919911657127954" /></a><br />Our electronic ticket information arrived yesterday for our flight from Seattle to Johannesburg, overnighting there, then on to our final destination: Gabarone, Botswana. Then last night I went on-line and got our tickets on Horizon (Alaska Airlines) from Pasco, WA to Seattle where we will spend the night of May 14. <div><br /></div><div>I checked on united.com to see how much it would cost to fly to Seattle. Would you believe it was $1100 for the 2 of us. For a trip that is 171 miles by air!! I was truly shocked. On Horizon it was $478 for the 2 of us. Now that is a big difference. I think it is partly because Horizon is a smaller airline that flies these shorter distance shuttles several times a day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I did splurge a little on our motel--The Raddison. It is very close to the airport and has sleep-number beds. I've never slept on one of those so this might just be a treat. We have to be at the airport the next morning by 5:30 so a closer motel is a bonus. Plus, last year we stayed at one that was decidedly not to our taste.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-85209060980834304612009-03-24T08:54:00.000-07:002009-03-24T09:01:47.825-07:00Spring in My StepOkay...So I'm a little down this morning. I'm working so hard on this weight loss thing and I cannot get things moving down. I've exercised much more than I ever have since I was a young thing, I'm eating the right away and my scale is stuck, stuck, stuck. I can't even seem to lose .2 of a pound. Now I ask you.....is that too much to ask for? Just .2 of a pound. Today I'm not even going to exercise although I will wear my pedometer when I go shopping with my friend and keep track of my steps and calories burned.<br /><br />I can't seem to get my act together and get some house work done. The ironing is stacking up. Laundry needs to be folded. The carpet desperately needs to be vacuumed. I really want to see my granddaughters in Texas. <br /><br />I need to work on getting that spring in my step. I need to get up from this computer and just get moving. Where is my motivation? I feel like it is there and yet I'm having trouble finding it. I know I cannot give up. I cannot give up. I cannot give up. <br /><br />We leave for Africa in 7 weeks and 2 days. I had such high hopes for weighing 230 or less by then and now that is looking further and further away although in all actuality it is only 8.2 pounds away. ONLY 8.2 pounds. Get your rear out of the chair, Margaret, and start moving.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-67813817096494012192009-03-09T22:25:00.000-07:002009-03-09T22:39:16.365-07:00Pants Problem--the zipper goes WHERE?<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Sunday after church and lunch we came home and I got comfortable. That means I got out of my church clothes and into my bathrobe ready to begin the serious work of my parents' taxes. I'm in the middle of entering words and figures when I hear a timid knock at the door. None of our friends come to the front door as a general rule so I opened the door just a tiny bit, saw who it was and said, "Just a minute."<br /><br />I shut the door and went to the bedroom where I pulled a pair of pants out of the closet and put them on. They had been given to me some time back and they didn't fit. The next time I tried them on they fit but were tight in the legs. This time they went on easily and I zipped them up, got a blouse and went out to let my guest in. We talked about what he'd come over for (I'm accompanying him at a talent show this Saturday evening) and I casually reached to put my hands into my pockets but the pockets weren't where they were supposed to be. As I continued talking I reached around my backside and there were the pockets facing the wrong direction.<br /><br />After my guest left I took off the pants and realized that the zipper went in the back not in the front. I also discovered that fastening them by myself is virtually impossible so have decided that I'll never be able to wear them unless Aaron is with me to fasten them. Inconvenient, huh!<br /></span>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-3646925269183736412009-03-01T15:21:00.000-08:002009-03-01T15:25:28.477-08:00My FatherToday my dad is 88. He is an amazing man, full of vitality and life. My dad has never been overweight in his life and still works at maintaining around 150 pounds. <br /><br />My dad takes care of my mom who is pretty much an invalid. She needs help getting dressed, using the restroom, getting into and out of her wheelchair and the car. Dad does it all. He cooks, cleans, does the laundry, pays the bills and gets up with my mom several times a night. Like I said, my dad is amazing.<br /><br />At the end of this month they will celebrate 67 years of marriage. 67 years of being faithful to one another. 67 years of loving one another. 67 years of what marriage is all about.<br /><br />My dad is my example. He is my hero. I love my dad.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-27359166539448467902009-02-19T09:07:00.000-08:002009-02-19T09:17:45.321-08:00A Sad DayYesterday (Feb. 18) I presented our Botswana and Namibia pictures to a group of girls at our former church.<div><br /></div><div>When I arrived home my husband said that I needed to call my sister in California. She had very sad news to share with me. Her 50 year old, very in shape brother-in-law had died while working out at a gym. Just collapsed and he was dead. He leaves a wife, son who is 19 and a 15 year old daughter. He was in excellent health as far as everyone knew. So this has come as a complete shock to the entire family. </div><div><br /></div><div>There will be tests done to see what caused his death. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is a very good example of why husbands AND wives need to know what is going on financially in the household. Every morning when you kiss your spouse good-bye you don't know if it might be the last time you see them.</div><div><br /></div><div>My condolences to the family. I pray that God will be their comfort.</div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-247733748823086532009-02-07T13:43:00.000-08:002009-02-07T13:50:44.405-08:00Not MuchLife is going on and on here in Hermiston. Nothing unusual happening. Still working at UHS Library, and may be for awhile longer. Good thing I like it.<br /><br />You know, I'm kinda tired of so much being blamed on us Conservative Christians. It's like we are a bunch of people who want to kill sick people if we aren't for Universal Healthcare. Or people think we hate homosexuals......we DON'T!! <br /><br />A Christian is a person who has accepted Jesus Christ as their personal Savior. Having done this does NOT make us perfect and we should never be self-righteous. The Bible says that our righteousness is as filthy rags. Our righteousness only comes through Jesus Christ.<br /><br />When a person becomes a Christian your attitude should be changed because Jesus has change your heart. We shouldn't be lying or stealing or swearing. We should be treating people kindly, we should be paying our bills, we should be praying for our elected officials. We should be telling people about Jesus.....and that is what I'm doing right now. I'm telling you about Jesus.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-57511047017777277932009-01-25T22:07:00.000-08:002009-01-25T22:18:21.103-08:00More Snow in HermistonYep! We were hoping winter was over here--at least the part where we got snow. But no! We had more yesterday and today. Fortunately it didn't cause big problems on the roads. The temperature has not risen above freezing for more than 2 weeks. I'll be glad to see spring arriving.<br /><br />I'm getting rid of cookbooks. I've managed over the years to accumulate quite a few, many of which I never used. I don't really like to cook all that much but I've always liked to buy cookbooks. Now that just doesn't make sense does it. Aaron had to empty out the piece of furniture that holds all the cookbooks and my china (which my dad got for my mom for their 25th anniversary in 1967) so that he could more easily move it while putting down the new peel and stick tile. So all the cookbooks are in the living room on the floor. I need to pick out say four of them to keep and dispose of the rest. Oh, I won't throw them away. I'll give them away or list them on paperback swap.<br /><br />And the next time I see a cookbook I think I can't live without...I'll learn to live without it.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17562028374344381.post-4607985749650143232009-01-16T16:01:00.000-08:002009-01-16T16:08:11.459-08:00Our GrandsonOur only grandson Curtis has turned 4. We are going to Milton-Freewater to spend the night, babysit while Larisa goes to practice at church, and then be there for the party tomorrow.<div><br /></div><div>I had had a counter on my site for awhile and suddenly it went away and I had to put on a new one. So now it looks like only 2 people have read my blog.</div><div><br /></div><div>The boxes were just delivered for us to send back the Dish Network equipment. If only they hadn't been having a "fight" with Fisher Inc. we'd have stayed with them. But not having CBS.....can't live without CBS. Well, okay, I COULD live, but there are programs on there we really like. Like NCIS, The Unit, Amazing Race, Survivor to name a few.</div><div><br /></div><div>Time to put the rest of my over-nite stuff in a shopping bag. Grab the toothbrush and get on outta here. Have a good weekend.</div>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05149470085709699683noreply@blogger.com1