Typing 101

Back in the day, I was a speedy typist.  Not to toot my own horn (or ding my electric typewriter, as it were), but my wpm rate wasn't too shabby.  I was quick and fierce and pounded the keyboard so mercilessly that my boss in college was concerned (and probably annoyed!).  Whilst working at Target during high school and college, my boss once asked me my method for using the ten-key on the cash register, so speedy was I.  (I proudly explained my three-finger technique.)

Lest you are getting peeved at my boasting, let's fast forward to the present day.  Now, though I type fairly regularly, much of my transcribed work is done on a teeny, tiny touch screen.  Yes, the dear iPhone gets the brunt of my pounding these days.  I have a unique approach to texting, using my right thumb and my left forefinger (I had to pick up my iPhone and double-check that information just now).  My rapid-fire texting with an odd choice of digits has elicited many a question in the last several years.  Yet I feel strangely proud of my frenetic way of typing and texting.

Here is the point of this post, which I have taken my ever-lovin' sweet time to get to:  I ask an awful lot of my auto-correct.  Back in high school on my Brother GX-6750, I had to be precise with my spelling and punctuation or my wpm rate would suffer.  These days, as I zip away on my iPhone I expect miracles out of my auto-correct.  I type sloppily, assuming spellcheck will read my mind.  I get frustrated when I type some sort of drivel that includes letters in the near vicinity of the word I intend, and my iPhone doesn't quickly change it into the proper word.  Here are some zingers I have presented to my phone, only to be disappointed:

wistoom (question)
locom (loving)
twleith (reality)
shxeudle (schedule)

To be fair, here are a few whoppers where my iPhone has indeed, read my mind, as any other scenario seems implausible:

chskengw (challenge)
orhestea (orchestra)
iptoons (options)
siggeft (suggest)

Nowthat you know what IU have become, I ask you to please have compassion on my if you read my txts with a bit of confusion.  Today's technolgoy has apperntly made me sloppy and lay.  Mea cola.

**The above should read:  Now that you know what I have become, I ask you to please have compassion on me if you read my texts with a bit of confusion.  Today's technology has apparently made me sloppy and lazy.  Mea culpa.

Thursday lineup

The kids went back to school today now that Snowmageddon has (mostly) passed us.

So little K and I:

ran about a bazillion errands

endured horribly cold temps (in the teens - what, you say?  I'm a wimp?  Yes, yes I am.)

enjoyed a chick-fil-a lunch (but not the rude gesture given me by a passing driver as I edged out to see past an enormous snow pile.  I was quite taken aback by it.)

slid a bit on the still much-covered snowy road

persevered through the SQUEAKIEST cart known to mankind at Meijer (I had conversations about it on practically every aisle with annoyed shoppers.  I, too, detested it, but had already committed to it and didn't want to waste time going up and changing it out.  So I busted my rear and got the heck out of dodge as fast as I could.  It was a horrible racket.)

got some fab deals at Target (humor me - 10 smart ones, a pair of men's khakis, two hanging organizers and four over-the-door hooks for $23!  That is less than the pair of pants would have cost originally!  Score!)

ran into an old friend who always makes me laugh and enjoyed catching up before we had to part ways to fetch our little darlings

And let me tell you, dear reader, it felt mighty good, mighty good indeed to emerge from this here house.  Fresh air!  Driving a car!  Retail therapy!  All good stuff (except for the mean driver part).  I enjoyed being with my children those extra days, truly I did.  But it was also very good to be out and about again, I cannot tell a lie.

Snowmageddon by the Numbers

So we, like most of the Midwest, have experienced mucho snow and bitter cold temps in the last couple of days, causing all schools and most businesses to be closed.  Therefore, our house overfloweth with children and energy, and a mamma who is going a bit stir crazy herself.  Here are some stats from Snowmageddon/Snowpocalypse/Great Blizzard of 2014:

15+    inches of snow towering on our deck wall

3!       days home from school

6        viewings of Mulan

1356  pine needles on floor by Christmas tree

5        viewings of Pocahontas (almost 6, as little one is requesting it again)

11       loads of laundry washed, folded and put away

58       times mom has asked children to please oh please not be so rowdy in the house

8:00    average wake time for children and mamma

-39      lowest "real feel" report on my TWC app

20+     games played, many of them Rat-a-tat-cat, as requested continually by a certain 4 year old

28       new gray hairs on mommy's head


Tomorrow is school.  Back to routine and rhythm and order and normalcy.

And also early mornings.

Sentimental Journey

I realize I have not blogged in quite some time, busy as we have been celebrating Christmas and New Year's with family and friends.  I ought to have much to say therefore, but don't especially, as I am going on three days of homebound crazy with my offspring, due to the massive cold temps and snow the entire country seems to be experiencing (with the exception of Florida, my dream state).  Due to the cabin fever I am battling, my brain is not firing on all cylinders, so I have a general lack of interesting things to say.

Did you find it as fascinating as I did that the entire paragraph above was all about how I have nothing to write?

I will leave you with this little tidbit, as I attempt to keep my sanity during these snow days:

Last night, we were making the beds in the boys' room and discussing sheets and comforters and how to have an "grown-up" bed (sleep UNDER a flat sheet and UNDER a comforter, with one's head at the SAME place throughout the night - a concept that few of my children seem to employ).  All the talk of maturity must have sunk in to my oldest son, because when I asked him if he'd like to have his teddy bear (you know the one - the one he has had since birth. . .it's matted and loved and worn), he said no thanks, he's fine without him.  My husband affirmed his choice, while I repeatedly suggested he might want him near justincase.  About this time, I looked above the son's bed to my youngest son's bunk, to see him sobbing hysterically.  After much questioning and hugging, I determined he thought we were giving away his brother's beloved teddy bear.  He couldn't bear the thought!  I quickly explained it was simply being put with the other stuffed animals a mere two feet away from his brother.  His tears turned into laughter and blessed relief.

I kissed him and tucked him in, with his precious living room pillows.

Away in a Manger

Tis the season. . .for Christmas Programs!

My family and I have gone to three in the last three days, and I love it!  Monday night we got to watch our 1st grader sing praises to baby Jesus and our 3rd grader perform as Joseph in the nativity play.  Wednesday morning our preschooler journeyed to Bethlehem with her classmates and spoke and sang the story of Jesus' birth.  And our middle schoolers praised God at Advent worship last night with their voices and instruments.

Wow.  What a blessing - to live in a place where our children can praise God at the top of their voices.  They are at a school where they learn about Him and what Christmas really means.  It does not escape me that not all children know about Him or have the freedom to praise Him in public places.  

And as I've thought about these last three days of programs, it caused me to reminisce a bit (I know, I know!  I can't help myself - everything causes me to reminisce!).  And I recalled two other Christmas program memories - if you're interested, you can read about them here and here.  

For the Love of the Couch

15 years ago next month, my husband and I moved into our house.  Our first house, our only house thus far.  We had so many rooms, and so little furniture to put in it.  So we bought our first real furniture, a living room set from Value City.  It was just right - a couch, a love seat and three tables - all perfectly coordinating with our desirable burgundy carpet.

Fast forward to last week.  I was scrolling through Facebook when I saw a post from a friend offering her lovely (and oh-so-neutral) couch for FREEEEE.  "Quick!"  I said to my husband.  "We must say we'll take it and use it in the living room!"  Bing-bang-boom.  As of Friday, the couch was ours.

And the other couch and love seat?  I called for large trash pick up for today.  Both couches were literally bursting at the seams, spewing foam filling all over the floor whenever the children hopped over them like gymnastics equipment (which I'm sorry to report was often).  My mom had sewn the ripped seams the last time she visited, but to no avail.  I wanted to take them to Goodwill, but we feared they were just past their time.

So today, they sat on the snowy curb, and a large truck rumbled to our house.  We all watched as an enormous crane grabbed our couches and dropped them into the truck.  Two pillows and a cushion had fallen to the ground and before I knew it, my son had dashed out into the driveway and was retrieving them.  I quickly followed, worried about him near the large equipment.  He was holding the pillows as the driver tossed the cushion into the truck.

"We need to keep the pillows, mom!", he said with fervor.

Tonight at bedtime, this same little son was having trouble going to sleep.  My husband was upstairs helping him settle in.  With tears in his eyes, our son said, "Dad, every time I close my eyes, I think of the couches!"

He was genuinely upset that the couches were gone.  "I only saved two pillows!  I should have saved three!  I should have saved a cushion!  We've had them so long - why couldn't we fix them?"

Oh, my heart!  This is my boy!  I was the little girl who cried when we rearranged the living room furniture or sold a car.  This little boy, who has the corner on crazy wild, has such a tender, soft heart.

He is currently cuddled in bed with the two couch pillows.  I am very glad we kept them - they will remind of us what used to be, and also of the sweet little boy who couldn't let go of a piece of his childhood.

Word of the Day

Note to self:

When praying in the morning with one's children (including several grade school boys), the word "duties" regarding the family's various jobs and activities is not the best word choice.

Hilarity will ensue, which does not foster the reverent attitude one is trying to cultivate.