Step this way

Yesterday I had to dash up to the river house to meet the chimney sweep. We were told at the house inspection in the spring that we need to get it cleaned before the weather cools down and we're using it again. The husband and wife team showed up early, made quick business of the chimney and, thankfully, it wasn't as pricey as I was afraid it might be.

I noticed on my drive through the hill country that some of the trees are changing colors. Some have even started dropping leaves. Because duh, it's autumn. But then I started wondering if they're just dead leaves getting dropped earlier than I expected because we're in a record drought rather than a true shift towards fall temperatures. Only the Good Lord knows.

Realizing I hadn't seen the stairs down the cliff to the river since they were finished, I went over to take a look. I'm really digging the stain I chose. Now I'm just waiting for the electricians to come back out and install strands of those patio style lights that will run down the banister from top to bottom. 

Our old stomping ground

The husband and I were up in Boerne today to tour a few properties. We've decided it's about time to flee the big city again for one of the old German towns in the hill country. Places like Boerne, Comfort or maybe Bandera. We're exploring all of our options.

We stopped by a favorite brewpub for lunch on Cibolo Creek in-between houses, and I enjoyed my usual salad. Since we were trying to get back home in time for the husband to watch his precious Longhorn football game, I didn't have a chance to swing by my favorite bakery. Maybe next time!

Mmm, mmm, good!

We got our first serious cold front of fall, so of course that was my cue to make either chili or soup. Our niece who lives in the guesthouse voted for broccoli cheese soup, so I whipped up a big pot of it for the week. I enjoy soup all the time, but there's just something about a big warm bowl of it in the cooler months that feels cozy and really hits the spot.

The older folks reading this will understand my title for the post. For you younger ones, I thought it would be fun to share where I got it. This was an advertising tagline used by the Campbell's Soup company for decades. They even set it to music. I was seven years old when the commercial below aired. Ahh, the good old days.

Typical Texas October

It may look like the holidays are just around the corner thanks to greedy retailers, but it's a mirage. Every year the big holidaypalooza that runs through the BER months kicks off earlier and earlier. On July 5 I started seeing pumpkins. Then Christmas displays began to pop up in September.

I love the holidays as much if not more than the next person, but this rush to get it out for the shopping masses has become a bit crazy. Even the husband's favorite ice cream brand hopped on the holiday wagon sooner than expected this year.

What's funny is that it certainly doesn't feel like the holidays here in south Texas. Below is a pic taken of my car's temperature reading this afternoon. Read it and weep. Or maybe sweat would be more like it. As much as I'd love to wear all of the long sleeves tops in fall colors I'm seeing in the stores right now, it would just result in heat stroke. So I'll be patiently waiting, as I always do, for those 9s to turn into 6s so I can really enjoy the seasonal temps that herald the holiday months for me.

Spell check on aisle 6

I was cruising the shelves of my local Walmart last week and did a double take when I spied this. It seems our local teens have been busy entertaining themselves, rearranging the monogram letters to spell inappropriate things. Unless they're talking about the University of South Carolina Gamecocks, which I highly doubt. Silver lining to the R-rated language is that it's spelled correctly. I'm sure their English teachers would be so proud of them!

 

 

Bittersweet birthday to me

This week I turned 55. I'm pretty sure that qualifies me for the senior citizen's discount at some eating establishments now. Aging doesn't bother me. Wrinkles and silver hair are a sign of wisdom. Usually. What bothered me about this birthday is that it's the first one without my mother.

Every year she'd do the stroll down memory lane. Whether I was local or across the Atlantic Ocean, immediately upon seeing or talking to me she would look at the clock and start reminiscing. "This time (insert my age on that birthday) years ago, you were X hours old." It was convenient I was born around 6 am. She'd recount what she, her mother or my father were doing at the hospital. She never failed to remind me that I was the prettiest thing she had ever seen and that she was scared to death of me. She was a young mother at 21 - married at 19 - and had absolutely zero experience with babies. Good thing I was an almost nine pounder, chubby cheeked infant that didn't look particularly fragile.

Every time I've seen these candies in the store this fall, I've thought of my wonderful mother. I can remember clear as if it were yesterday that she put these mellowcreme pumpkins atop cupcakes for my 5th birthday she brought for the class when I was attending Wee Wisdom preschool at the Methodist Church in Woodville, Texas. The mind is a funny thing, how it holds onto memories from 50 years ago while letting me forget what I was going to fetch when I walked from the office to kitchen yesterday. Or maybe it's just that God allows our brains to prioritize holding onto the precious memories while letting go of the inconsequential stuff.

The Lord and His mysterious ways

This year in Bible Study Fellowship (BSF), we're back in the Old Testament. Our new study is off to a roaring start with King Solomon and his heirs as the kingdom was split into north (Israel) and south (Judah). I've cheered on their triumphs when they have their whole hearts turned to God. But more often than not I'm sad at the self-inflicted struggles they face. God spares us few details as His inspired words recount the many sins of mankind through the annals of history. And unfortunately, it's a history that seems to be on a nonstop cycle of sin, repent and then repeat. None of us are immune, I'm afraid. I think the world would benefit from a big dose of God's Old Testament fire and brimstone right about now, but I digress.

One of the things I love most about the Bible is that it's always relevant. God's words are eternally true, whether He's describing human actions from 3000 years or three days ago. There is an unending list of things to be learned when we study the Bible, because the Holy Spirit speaks to us in a personal way as we draw close. "The Lord is with you when you are with him. If you seek him, he will be found by you, but if you forsake him, he will forsake you."   2 Chronicles 15:2b As I round the corner on 55 this week, I know I listen for God more because I believe He's actively communicating with me. But I have to wonder... Is it that I don't always hear God, or that what He's trying to tell me is something I don't WANT to hear?

This week I realized God was speaking to me through the mail. Seriously. 

I was raised in a home where the only times adults prayed aloud was at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. That was it. The rest of the time I prayed in my head, though I was never encouraged to do that. And so it's no wonder I've deemed myself a raccoon when I pray. Oh look, something shiny! I start off praying about X, but get distracted to Y, and then Z pops into my head so that I'm off on a completely different track from where I started. I know there's a need for me to revamp my prayer life. But I've been dragging my feet and making excuses. Then this arrived in yesterday's mail.

If there had been any doubt about the need for change, there was confirmation in black and white on my kitchen table. That coupled with Lesson 3 this week in BSF were massive neon signs blinking in my face. God sees me - He sees everything - and is nudging me to make a positive change with prayer. Or maybe He was slapping me on the back of the head, or giving me a good kick in the backside. The Lord knows I can be a stubborn mule that often needs to hear from Him in various ways. His meaning yesterday was crystal clear, that it's time to commit to a more substantial and meaningful prayer life. Be more intentional and persistent. Write everything down because hello, menopause brain. Set aside a specific time and place to pray every day instead of my more random approach. He's telling me I can't continue to ignore this deficit in my walk of faith.

It's so easy to let it slide and tell myself I've got time to do better... later. I think we all do that. Sigh. If I'm going to talk the talk, I should be walking the walk with my whole heart. And so there's no time like the present to dig in. Let the Lord lead me where He knows I need to go. For my soul and His glory. Hallelujah and Amen!