Monday, August 29, 2016

Straight to the Top!

I don’t know about Y’all, but today I need a prayer. The past few weeks have been too busy. (Feels like all I do is clean house. I don’t love this part of my life.) My Sweet Hubby (MSH) and I have had very few “days off” lately. Please don’t misunderstand me (especially Ms. TLC et al!)! I’m grateful we’re busy. That we’re healthy enough to keep commitments. To be with family and friends. To love and take care of PRECIOUS grandchildren. But it seems like I’m feeling so overwhelmed, some days, it's difficult to truly embrace and enjoy all of our blessings. (Let’s don’t even go into how exhausted and overwhelmed TLC has been the past five months! Sigh. I need a magic wand. Or to win the lottery. I'd love to gift her a housekeeper, chef, chauffeur and NANNY. Mostly a NANNY.)

Speaking of TLC: This week I’ll be at her casa for a couple of nights. Then MSH and I will have company for the weekend. (Hence the never-ending-on-going cleaning that is being done here. Laundry, too. YUCK.)

This is from my Prayers With Purpose for Women, by Jackie M. Johnson:

Trusting God’s Wisdom

For the LORD gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.

            PROVERBS 2:6

Lord, what a blessing it is to be able to come before You—the wisest, most intelligent Being in the universe. I have direct access, straight to the top. Thank You for giving me wisdom and direction, even when I can’t see the way. Knowledge and understanding come directly from Your mouth, Lord, and You delight to enlighten us. I praise You and ask for continued insight as my dreams become achievable goals

In Your Son Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Wishing each of you wisdom, direction, knowledge and understanding—this week. Next month. For the rest of 2016. And always.

ta-ta for now…

Friday, August 26, 2016


Three weeks ago I went in for my annual checkup. (I’m quite responsible about this necessity. A life full of medical issues. Almost from birth. Asthma at 9. Breast cancer at 40. Sudden, unexplained deafness in my left ear at 54. My first broken bone at age 55. My newest diagnosis of full-blown osteoporosis. My ten-years'-older Sweet Hubby-MSH-who’s had two heart attacks in the past three 1/2 years. All of these things make me cautious.)

This morning, bright and early, I had to be in town at my doctor’s office for bloodwork. Nothing to eat after midnight last night. Water. (I typically have had breakfast by 7:00 a.m. I was getting a bit hangry by 7:21.)

I walked into the office at 8:04. (You’re scheduled to come between 8:00 and 9:00. I ALWAYS try to be there as early as possible. It’s a first come-first served sign-up. I’ve waited as long as 40 minutes—if I arrive at 8:15. Talk about hungry/angry/hangry.)

At 8:10, the nurse, who I’ve known now for at least five years (I’ve been seeing this family doctor for twelve years—and adore her!), asked me to sign a paper. I’d never had to do this before. Ever. She said it was a “Medicare Replacement” form.

ELC: I’m not on Medicare. I’m not old enough. I’m 62.

NURSE K (clearly not listening to me): Just sign right there and date it.

ELC: Okay. I don’t understand. I’ve never had to do this.

NURSE K: Hmmm…

As we walked to the bloodwork room, I said: “I’m going to be excited when I’m 65 and I can be on Medicare. This insurance I have—which is quite pathetic—costs me $800 a month and could go up 30% next year. If I’m lucky it’ll only be a 30% increase.”

NURSE K: You’re not 65? You don’t have Medicare?

ELC (SIGH): No. I’m 62.

NURSE K: Well, this form isn’t for you. You’re insurance isn’t listed correctly in our computer. Clearly. You didn’t need to sign it.


But here’s the thing: Again, I’ve known this kind woman for at least five years. (I LOVE NURSES.) She thinks I’m 65? She thinks I’m 65. That’s fine. What can I do? I can hope and pray I live to be 65! In three years. I’m not obsessed with aging. HONEST. Y’all know this. Truth: I don’t like my neck. I don’t like the way my flabby arms flap. (I haven’t worn a sleeveless anything for at least ten years.)  I don’t like how much I weigh or that my hair is getting thin at the top. Near my forehead. Scares me. I WILL be wearing a wig.

I’m grateful to be ALIVE. I’m grateful it’s Friday. I’m grateful MSH and I had Our Three Gals’ visiting with us Tuesday through Thursday. I’m grateful it’s the Weekend.

I’ll close with this wish for Y'all:

I hope NO ONE thinks you’re three years older than you really are (Unless you're 18 and you wish you were 21.) today. Tomorrow. Sunday.

Anytime soon.


Tuesday, August 23, 2016


TLC LOVES Hoda Kotb and Kathie Lee. She watches their morning show as often as possible. As I’ve shared, I don’t watch a lot of television during the day. It might be on. I might stop and glance at it. But the volume is normally off and it’s mostly there for ALERTS. Especially during bad weather. (If we don’t lose our satellite system completely—then we’re forced to use our cellphones for info and pray our WiFi doesn’t go out.)

Late afternoon, evening and middle-of-the-night TV? Don’t ask. That’s a whole other story. I watch TOO TOO TOO TOO TOO TOO TOO much. Y’all have surmised. Sigh.

I also adore Hoda! And I follow her on Twitter. She tweets pretty/inspirational/thought-provoking quotes at the beginning of each day. This was today’s and I thought it was most definitely worth posting on lolwiththeleightons:

Why Complicate Life?

Missing somebody?                 …Call

Wanna meet up?                      …Invite

Wanna be understood?            …Explain

Have questions?                      …Ask

Don’t like something?             …Say it

Like something?                      …State it

Want something?                     …Ask for it

Love someone?                        …Tell them

We just have ONE LIFE.

Keep it SIMPLE.

Hoda didn’t name the source. I suppose it could be her…but I’m thinking wherever she saw this it probably didn’t name the author.

If it’s YOU?                               …Take credit! (teeheehee)

Sometimes it’s truly difficult to do some or all of these things. But I believe, on this August 23rd, 2016, they’re all great suggestions and we should attempt to try them. Or at least a few of them. Every day.

Have a TERRIFIC Tuesday, Friends…Wherever in the World Y’all are!

ta-ta for now…

Saturday, August 20, 2016


When I was growing up, Saturdays were cleaning/yard day. We all had to clean our rooms. During the Spring/Summers/Fall we had to help do yardwork. About once a month we had to help clean out the garage. I mean clean it. Spotless. Take everything out. Sweep it and wash it down/out with the hose. Put everything back. The garage. Seriously?

If you’d gotten in trouble during the week, Saturday was also “punishment” day. We were rarely “grounded” in terms of being forced to stay home. My mother contended that that solution only punished HER. Therefore, our consequences were pretty much cleaning. Scrubbing. Etc. Mother's “punishment” typically meant you had to do chores like polish her silverware or serving dishes. (She had a lot, by the way.) Or wash/wipe down all the baseboards in the entire house. (We lived in a 3000-ish square foot home. Two stories. Lots o’ baseboards. Sigh.) Here was the thing: Someone was going to do both of these jobs. Eventually. In trouble or not. But my mother’s idea? Pretty effective. The worst punishment of all was having to polish silver or wash baseboards when you’d JUST DONE THEM a week or two before. Horrors. (Needless to say, we had the shiniest silver in four states.)

Once I graduated from high school and left home—for either a job or college (I actually tried three colleges over two years before I found my perfect fit!)—Saturdays were often sleep-in days. I remember there were times I didn’t get out of bed until after lunch! Now? If I did that? I’d feel like The Biggest Slug On This Earth. I despise being in bed for more than eight hours—even when I’m sick. Lounging in bed rarely occurs in this senior-citizen life of mine.

After marriage, Saturdays turned back into cleaning/errands/laundry days. Unless I was working. I was a legal assistant for many years—once I graduated from college. I worked most Saturdays—until noon or 1:00 p.m.—for over six years. Then I’d have to go home and clean our casa. Do laundry. Errands. It was my life.

Post birth of TLC, I became a stay-at-home Mom. Yet, somehow, even then, for many years, Saturdays were still cleaning days. Yard days. (Don’t get me wrong: My Sweet Hubby—MSH—was our yard/landscape man. Occasionally I helped rake grass or leaves or water pots, etc.—especially our flower pots. Overall, I was typically The Inside Supervisor Gal.)

For most of his seventy-two years, MSH has been an Early Worm Riser. His four sons and TLC always dreaded Saturday mornings at our casa. MSH apparently believes that if he’s up—everyone needs to be! I’d plead with him—on the kids’ behalf—especially when they were teenagers—to let them sleep until 7:00 a.m.! A really GOOD Saturday was one when they were allowed to sleep until 9:00 or 10:00. (I’m proud to say that all five of our children are hard-working, responsible adults/parents/peeps. Despite their HARSH upbringing! Ha.)

When you’re retired, it seems like Fridays and Saturdays would really be virtually the same as any other day of the week. Surprisingly, there is often cleaning to be done on Saturdays. Yardwork. Errands. Old habits are hard to break.

I’m currently delaying my need to GET TO WORK. MSH’s younger sister will be staying with us tomorrow night. She lives in Austin. Her oldest grandchild—a BEAUTIFUL young lady who is quite the artist—is going to be a freshman at our State University in town. She checks into her dorm tomorrow. This is the same University MSH, TLC and I all graduated from. The three of us believe she’s going to adore it. Fingers crossed!

I’ve got to get crack-a-lackin’ on Tricia’s room (aka Little Leighton’s room). I have mucho toys that need a temporary home for a few days.

We hope each of you—wherever in this World you are—has a Super Saturday and Wonderful Weekend! Take some time to kick back and rest. Recharge. Have FUN! (Don't clean. Unless you truly must. It'll only get dirty again.)

smooches and hugs,