facebook

I think I've started something within my household. I opened my blog just over a week ago. For those of you who read my first post, you'll remember that it was a stretch for me...learning the new technology and dipping my toes into the new century. It has been good, don't get me wrong. But I knew nothing about blogging before jumping in.

So, last night before bed I came to the computer to see what my husband was working on. About an hour earlier I caught him looking at plans for kids' playhouses and backyard play structures. He had actually gone so far as to render a 3D image using his Inventor software...very impressive. So, that's what I expected to see. But he had moved on.

He was responding to a dear friend (the cool ventriloquist at our wedding) on his facebook account. Facebook?!?

Not another new technology! Yes, I think I started something. Not to be outdone, my husband opened a facebook account.

Two summers ago I was a youth camp counselor at Camp Mack. The girls in my cabin wrote their myspace accounts on the cabin walls with permanent marker and would say "Find me on myspace." Not only did I not find them, but I still don't know what it is. The only description I ever heard was "It's a social networking site." And frankly, that didn't help. For a girl who would rather use a walkman because she doesn't know what MP3 is, you're gonna have to go into a more thorough discussion.

So, I'd like to know...what can any of you in blog world share with me about facebook? Talk slowly and assume I know nothing. Because, in reality I know nothing.

Cook Together

I like to cook. So does my husband. He's probably more successful at it than I am. He grills and cooks stove-top while I bake and make casseroles. His food always turns out fabulous.

What's really fun is cooking together...even though sometimes we find ourselves squeezing behind each other to get around the kitchen. This morning I fried ground sausage, baked what we call "tube biscuits," and shredded potatoes for hashbrowns. Well, I shredded two before nicking my knuckle and passing the job on to my lovely. Then he whipped up a killer sausage gravy for the biscuits, fried the hashbrowns, and fried eggs.

We sat at our sunroom table with our son and liesurely ate our heavy country breakfast with coffee and juice. It was one of those simple but highly enjoyable moments that you just can't get enough of.

While I probably won't remember it forever, I did enjoy it while it lasted. Simple family moments such as this are the best. And an accumulation of them are what happiness is made of.

It's Not About the Paint

When I decide in my mind to do something, I go for it. I don't always have a plan of attack or even think it through entirely before I start. But I do it. And I do my best. And I see it to completion.

Example: Last week, I decided to start my own blog. I looked at one blog before I started my own. It was: garner4.blogspot.com (a friend of my sister's). I liked it. I thought, "If she can do, so can I." And I did. It was fun. Not the blogging. But doing something on my own that I decided I would do. And that I could be proud of doing. I didn't ask for anyone's help. I just did it.

So, my husband has been on a trip this week and I decided to paint the interior of our house. We moved into this 1959 brick ranch about a year and a half ago. It was move-in ready and even the walls seemed a nice blank slate in a warm vanilla color as we walked through. But, after the previous owners took down things from the walls, we realized they had left a lot of nail holes and foam adhesive tape on the walls. We tried to peel and scrape the tape off, and we puttied over the holes. But we never did re-paint. We never put our own things on the walls. We just left it puttied and sanded. And I guess I had gotten used to it. After a year or so I was able to walk by without even noticing.

I wanted to do something productive this week while my husband was away. I thought...and I decided to paint. Once I thought of it, it was my goal. I didn't question it once. I dug around the basement and garage for our painting supplies. And I headed to the store for paint. The first day I re-painted the hallway. It was the worst putty-patched space. I was pleased with my work. I taped off the ceiling and baseboards well. It only took one coat. And I could see how much better it looked...even though it was barely a subtle difference in color.

I took the second day off from painting...the fatty part of the palm of my hand was sore from holding the paint roller. But I was back at work in the dining room on the third day. I wasn't going to go as subtle this time. I wanted my husband to notice that I painted. I went to the store again. I asked the man behind the counter to mix the grassy green color on the swatch I found just minutes before. He added the color to a gallon of paint and put it in the mixer. It looked overly full...no room in the can for air. Several minutes later, he took the lid off and it looked unmixed. He repeated the attempt two more times, but it never mixed. He started again with a new gallon of paint. And this time when he took off the lid I saw a shade of green that was nice, but not at all what I had wanted. I wanted the green I had chosen. The green on the color swatch. So, I left without paint.

Like I said earlier, I don't always think these plans through. I still wanted to paint. But, now paintless, I headed for home. After passing the entrance to the local ACE Hardware, I decided to pull in, so I turned into the exit. I found the ACE color that matched my green...called Springfield. It mixed nicely. And I was happy. I went home. Taped off the dining room walls. And painted.

Then, today I finished my painting adventure. I continued the green to the kitchen.

I love it. And not just the paint. Have you ever just felt good about doing something yourself? Maybe what I liked the best was that I conceived the idea and executed it to completion on my own without asking anyone for help or opinions.

I hope my husband likes it! Or at least can live with it.

Why am I blogging?

My sister asked me today if I ever blog.

Blog? It must be a verb. "It's on the computer right?" At age 32, I like to think myself young enough to know and understand current technology. After all, I'm a pretty average American woman. Wife. Mother. College-educated. Church-going. Professionally-employed. Tax-paying. Hoosier.

But, blogger? No.

My first encounter with a computer was in the 6th grade. My math teacher, Mr. Minnick, let us ford the streams and hunt the prarries of the "Oregon Trail" on Fridays if we had all of our work done.

I first learned about the internet in 1994 when I was a freshman at McPherson College. I was being told that you could just "search" for anything. Search??? Anything? I hardly believed it. My first search was "Days of Our Lives." And there it was. Albeit hard for me to understand how it came up on my computer.

Of course, I've heard the terms "blog" and "blogging" before today. But since they are so foreign to me, I've never even been interested enough in finding out exactly what it is, to try it... like Chinese math. No point in talking to me about it unless you can start from the beginning. It's all new to me.

So, my sister gave me a basic definition for "blogging" and said she'd read my blog.

Anita, here's to you!