reunited

St. Joseph was planted under Mary. Now...I wait!

I received a call from the Listing Agent yesterday and had to laugh to myself "St. Joe, you are already hard at work!" Alas, the Realtor was just asking if I wanted to have an open house. Still, it's something!

Out of curiosity, I googled St. Joseph. Heh. Sounds dirty :D

It is funny that on Snopes.com, they don't state true or false like they normally do. I guess they fear the Wrath of God and don't want to lose any Christian followers.

From one of the religious sites it states that the statue is less important than the prayer. So, I am going to make sure that I say that daily too!

I have found a few online, but here's the one that came with my figurine, so it must be the best one, right!?

Dear Saint Joseph, God the Father chose you from all men to be the husband of Mary and the foster father of Jesus.

You cared thoughtfully and wholeheartedly for them while on Earth. It was through you that Jesus first learned of His Heavenly Father's gentleness. So close were you that He was known simply as the Carpenter's son.

We now ask your help in these our requests. Please intercede before our Heavenly Father for His protection, provision and peace. Help us sell our home and find a new one, suitable for our needs.

Grant us harmony and grace in our home, and may we be ever hospitable to family, friends and neighbors.

Finally, when our life on this earth is over, bring us safely to out heavenly home, where at last we shall enjoy eternal joy with you and all the family of God. Amen.

Hail Mary

I wanted a dog. To get a dog, I needed to move. Task 1: find a place that allows pets, specifically dogs. I quickly found a little house. When a friend and I went to look @ the house, we got a little freaked because we saw a face in the overgrown bushes - It was Mary.

I ended up moving into the house that was being watched over by Mary. Some asked if I was going to get rid of her. Absolutely not! 1) it was her house, not mine and 2) you don't just "get rid" of the Mother of Jesus. There are some people I will mess with, but she isn't one of them!!

Then, when I moved, I was asked if I was going to take Mary with me. Again, absolutely not! S

he wasn't mine!

For Christmas the year I moved into this house, my sister and Mom bought me my very own Mary.

She's coming with me this time ~ so is her husband. I'll dig him up and bring him with us.

St. Joseph & Mary...Together Again

IHOL (International House of Lisa) is, and has been, on the market. It's a lovely house and I love it dearly. If I could take it with me, I would. Alas, I cannot. When I was visiting what will become my next hometown, I decided to stop in at the local God Shop. It's been there since before Jesus, or 1892...whichever came first. I laughed because I told my Mom that all I was going to have to say is "Selling a house." Sure enough ~ he walked straight back to the shelf and handed me a St. Joseph statue and pretty much thought that was it. I am sure he gets a lot of people walking in & then right back out ~ most of them not Catholic buying St. Joe to do anything to sell the house.

Being brought up Catholic, I felt obligated to peruse the store. I think he was grateful to have someone that was really Catholic in there ~ even though I am about as Catholic as my dog at this point in my life. It's funny how the Catholic-ness surfaces though. It felt wrong just to dash in and out. I felt like I owed it to them to meander. I thought about trying to find a patron saint for Mom to help her with the struggles that she is having, but didn't se anything. There were a ton of gaudy and/or ornate crosses. Lots and lots of Jesus, which was to be expected. I did end up getting a charm for Cecelia too. She now officially wears more jewelry that her Human Mom. She has a St. Francis medallion.

Now, I get to bury him. It seems sacrilegious, but it's endorsed by people much more religious than me. The dilemma has become "where to bury him?!" There are 2 schools of thought - face him toward the house you are selling or face him toward the direction of the new home.

OK, so which do I choose?

I could plant (heh, planting a saint...) him on the NW corner near the garage. That way, he's be facing the house AND Indianapolis, but...

I have a statue of Mary on the SW corner of the house. Wouldn't it be nice to plant St. Joe next to (well, technically underneath) his wife? Doubly whammy?

Tennis(elbow), Anyone?

Ouch. Stupid snow. Stupid body.

We had 2 horrific snowfalls this year. One on January 9th where 3 feet of snow fell overnight and then another heavy snowfall that was classified as a blizzard due to the gale force winds, but the snowfall wasn't, or didn't seem, as bad as the January snowfall.

I have a long driveway. I do not have a snow blower. Not a good combination in these conditions. My right elbow was already sore after the Shovel-fest in January. February did me in though. It has become progressively more agitated and now, just flat out painful.

Luckily, I have a surgeon for a brother and a physical therapist for a sister-in-law. I have instructions from the later of the 2 and am trying to make sure I follow those instructions ~ especially since I do not have insurance right now!

I broke down and bought a elbow brace today too. It seems to help a bit.

Now...off to ice it!

Hardest Thing About Selling the House

Other than the actual finding a buyer and the stress of making sure you have everything clean (it's not like you can shove things in drawers or closets, since the buyer will more than likely be looking in those places), the thing that I have found hardest is making sure I have all the lights on in the house.

All those years of your parents teaching you to conserve energy and only turn on the lights that you need. It's super hard to not hit that switch when you walk out of a room!

The Complexities of being a Dog

Ok, I can't really know what the complexities are for Cecelia, but I have been her human Mom for 13+ years now, so we have earned the right to make assumptions about one another. For example, she knows that if she whines just enough, she will get a t-r-e-a-t.

The complexity that I find amusing today is the fact that I am the one she runs to for comfort even though I am the one causing the discomfort in the first place.

Before you go all ASPCA on my ass, let me explain. I love my dog. She is my baby. She's well fed, loved, etc., etc., yadda, yadda. I mean, look at that face! Who couldn't love that schmoopy woopy puppy? She, like a child, acts up when others are around, sneaks out of the "house" (in her case, yard), leaves a mess occasionally. She's a dog.

Presumably, as a dog, there is fur. In Cecelia's case, copious amounts of it. Much of in concentrated in her derriere; indicative of a chow-chow. And much like many of the children I know, she doesn't like to have her hair brushed. It's a humorous ritual to watch.

Setting: IHOL's kitchen, Cecelia watching from the dining room. She watches as Mom narrows in on Treat Central. Unbeknownst to her, for the sheer fact that she is a dog and doesn't care for anything but said treats, Mom is going for the brush contained in a hidden compartment within Treat Central.

Then it begins. The tail between the legs, head down, doing the death march around the dining room table. Occasionally, she breaks down and cowers just enough to give me access to the same spot I brushed a few minutes ago when she broke down.

I never really get her bum well because of this. So, I try the subtle "Let Mommy scratch your ass a little" Who doesn't love a good ass scratching? And then it's on. I start burrowing my fingers into that undercoat and loosen it nice and good. I get a few nice clumps out and she gets up and walks away...for a second.

This is where that complexity comes in. She's annoyed and frustrated, but I am the one that she comes to for comfort. In her sweet little lovely brain, she thinks that getting up. walking around the room and then planting herself on the other side of me has hit me "reset" button and erased my short term memory. Not so much, little lady. I am going to do it again and again.

But I do it because I love you...and it's sorta fun :)

Like Grandmother, Like Mother, Like Daughter

My Mom is a hoarder of sorts. Not nearly as bad as the ones that you see on the television show, but she hoards none-the-less.

When I was younger, it was rabbiting food. If there was a sale, she purchased the 10 can limit. It seemed to have become worst when we were cleaning out my Grandmother's house. It's not like my Gramma's stuff was so nice. It was more of a

"huh, one of those wang-doodles may come in handy some day" sort of thinking. My Mom must have acquired the need to hoard in the Will. Although, in watching Hoarders, and it's comedic counterpart, Clean House, one thing does stand out ~ many people seem to hoard when there is loss of a loved one.

I haven't had a loss and I didn't think of myself as a hoarder...then I looked at all the toiletries I have in my possession! Holy crap. Just because there is a little baby shampoo and conditioner does not

mean I have to take it!! I think Hampton Inn would be smart to follow in Westin's footsteps by offering their toiletries for purchase. Yes, I travel too much for work ~ I know which hotels to get excited over based on their toiletries and who has the better breakfast buffet. Hampton Inn is by far my favorite line of amenities, but you can't buy them anywhere. Westin's are nice ~ I am even contemplating purchasing a candle from there for my sister-in-law for Christmas...and maybe one for myself too! I digress...

I am trying to get my stuff together for a move and I figured this was a good time to take stock. I knew I had a lot, but do I really need a whole dining room table's worth of this stuff?!

For those of you that buy me stuff for Holidays ~ ixnay on the oletrietay for a bit, please. Let me use up some of the stockpile! Since I am in-between jobs at the moment, this will at least help keep some spending down... I had just run out of shampoo in the shower this morning

75%, UGlue, 75%

I arrived home to 21_8...the other 2 was dangling like a very lose tooth. Thankfully, I yanked it before the tile fell & shattered.

Fare Thee Well

It's been a week. I would like to say good or bad ~ be definitive ~ but it's been a true mix. Therefore, it's been a week.

Jokingly, I stated that I hate it when I am right, but that was really the way I felt. See, my family has a tendency to overreact to things; we have a stomach ache, we must have stomach cancer. I sensed that in this instance, I wasn't. I wasn't. Tough thing was, I sensed it all weekend.

Even though I was mentally prepared, once it happened, I was a basket case for the rest of the day. I loved the company. I still do. The mission, the vision, the people. Well, most of the people :) I sensed that I would be losing the job and I was right.

Thankfully, I have amazing ~ let me stress ~ AMAZING friends and loved ones. The outpouring of support was overwhelming. There are a few that I am completely not surprised that they were there and have continued to check in on me. My friends know that I love them and that I consider them family. They showed me this week that, while they may not define it as "family" like I do, they sure showed that they love me.

There were others that have surprised me a little. Not that they care, I try to only keep quality people in my life, but the degree to which they care.

It was expected on Monday, as the word spread, that I would be inundated with calls. I was. The thing was, these calls, emails, Facebook posts and texts haven't stopped. I feel so incredibly loved.

It's made it hard to be anything but grateful. Grateful for the people with whom I have acquainted myself. Even grateful for the whole opportunity with the company. I can't fault the organization for a couple of people's perception, or mis-perceptions of me. I believe it was politics, otherwise, the only explanation is that I was too nice and approachable. All-in-all a noble thing to be let go for, right?

So, if you are one of the people that have reached out to me this week, thank you. YOU are where I have found my strength. And I love you for that.

Marching Orders. Literally.

So, I started looking at my work history. I found it quite interesting that any dismissals have been right when budgets are finalized in these companies: March.

I have decided March is no longer my favorite month.