The Great Bathroom(s) Remodel of 2012

I promised I'd give you some sort of explanation as to why I haven't been around much this fall. It may not be a good excuse, but it is an explanation of sorts.

We've been remodeling! Two bathrooms, sorely in need of a facelift, finally got them this fall. The project took a little longer than we expected and cost a lot more than we originally thought. Isn't that always the way with house projects?

First, let me give you a little background.

Our home is old. Well, the foundation of our home is old--it probably dates back to the 1940s. It has been remodeled and added to in stages over the past 20 years. We have lived here for 14 years (last week!), and we've loved every minute of making our home our own.

We also love the history of our home because some dear friends of ours lived here before us and put the second story on it. Plus, we learned at some point along the way, that some retired missionaries lived here for a long time and prayed fervently for our neighborhood. Isn't that cool?

About seven years ago we put a pretty big addition onto our home (kitchen, family room, screened in porch, and master bedroom/bathroom), but we left two upstairs bathrooms untouched. They seemed fine to us at the time, and they worked just fine for our kids.

Over the years, things in those bathrooms have, shall we say, fallen apart.

Cabinets were getting a little . . . worn.

The mirrors were showing signs of age.

The tile was starting to come off the countertops, not to mention the crud that just wouldn't go away.

And the doors of the cabinets wouldn't even shut properly anymore.

And, most embarrassing of all, who knows how long we had lived with just the arm of a towel bar? We kept replacing the towel bar, but it kept coming off the wall. I guess we gave up.

We knew these bathrooms really needed attention, but you know how it goes . . . there's always something else that also needs to be done. (Like the furnace we replaced last year.)

But we have a lot of out of town guests, and those guests use these bathrooms. One day, B walked into the bathroom Julia uses and walked out disgusted. He had had enough. Our bathroom situation had become embarrassing!

So we decided that we really had to do something.

And something we did. We gutted both of them and replaced everything. 

Here are some before and after photos for your enjoyment.

Worn out, dilapidated cabinets replaced with new cabinetry from Restoration Hardware.

Nasty, plain white everything replaced with a walk-in shower and custom shelving (made by our contractor).

Before: linen closet in the corner. After: built-in unit made to match the cabinets in that bathroom.

Old stock vanity replaced with Restoration Hardware sink base and solid marble top.

Old single-handle faucets replaced with shiny new Kohler faucets.

Remember, we did two bathrooms. One, at the top of the stairs, is smaller and got the weathered wood cabinets. The other is our old master bathroom (before we added a new master) and is the bathroom Julia uses now. She gets displaced when we have guests stay with us.

Here are a few more "after" photos for you.

This is the bathroom at the top of the stairs (um, hello Me in my sweats!).

Restoration Hardware cabinet and marble countertop.

View from the tub. There's a small linen closet on the left.

Our builder thought of making these shelves from some of the extra marble. I love them!

Lighting was a bit of an issue, so we decided to go with a big mirror and mount the sconces right on the mirror in order to double the light. 

This is Julia's bathroom, but also the guest bathroom (and the old master bathroom).

View from the shower.

The cabinets in here were also from Restoration Hardware, but we got the marble somewhere else.

This is a close-up of the open shelving unit that our builder made for us. Didn't he do a great job of matching the RH cabinets?

Finally, a couple of details I especially liked.

The Kohler "Flip Side" showerhead. My kids specifically requested a detachable showerhead. I also LOVE the tile work in this bathroom.

Another shot of the tile work and corner shelving in Julia's shower.

I know, I know, I didn't actually do ANY of the work, but the project still took a lot out of me. I did quite a bit of running around to pick out tile, find marble, choose cabinets, and select plumbing fixtures. All of this took time when I wasn't teaching.

So my fall was basically this. It was worth the time, the occasional frustrations, and the *gulp* money.

And now our bathrooms are ready for anything . . . or any one.

When are you coming to visit? *wink wink*

Procrastination is Bad

Right now I’m trying to teach one of my girls an important life lesson, and the life lesson goes something like this: procrastination is bad.

Really, we might as well call it like it is: it’s bad. It’s bad to think we can “do it later” when right now is all we’ve got.

• Procrastination is deceptive, making you think you have more time than you have. 

• Procrastination makes a mess of your priorities.

• Procrastination keeps you from being a productive citizen. (And good golly, don’t we need more productive citizens these days?)

My daughter keeps trying (and failing) to not procrastinate. She has every good intention of getting her homework done or doing her chores in a timely manner. But for some reason, she struggles still.

I’m trying to help her, to coach her in the fine art of productive citizenship, but I get frustrated with her actions (or lack thereof), not because I don’t understand, but because I understand oh-too-well this habit called procrastination

This bad habit.

Take my day, for instance. Today—today!—I had one priority: grade ten papers. I collected 40 papers from my students yesterday and brought them home from work thinking, ten papers is doable. I can manage to grade ten papers.

Especially since I had not one other thing on my calendar today.

But here’s the thing. I went for a walk this morning with a friend whom I haven’t seen in a while. Much needed—both the exercise and the time with my friend.

After that, I sorted laundry and took a shower. Seriously, both were also needed because have you seen my laundry pile?!

Suddenly, with those priorities out of the way (they really were priorities), I realized that I had to—HAD TO—get to Target. You see, we were completely out of trash bags. Not a trash bag to be had in our house this morning, and you know as well as I do that a household without trash bags is a household in mortal danger of crumbling completely.

So, to Target I ran.

But while I was walking out the front door, I realized that the mums I had purchased last Saturday still needed some attention. You know, black urns would really spruce up my front door. And some pumpkins!

I knew that just down the road from Target was my favorite nursery, so I took just a quick detour. It wouldn’t take long. Just to see how much the black urns would cost.

And the pumpkins.

(Can you believe that one of those urns, which isn’t even cast iron by the way, costs $129?? What a rip off!)

I sauntered over to their huge selection of pumpkins and gourds. Gourds? Why didn’t I think of that? I must take time to peruse their selection of gourds, you know, as long as I’m here.

Have you ever seen an apple gourd? They are so cool! Green, large, and looks like an apple. I considered for a few minutes whether I needed one of those next to my black urn.

I still hadn’t taken a gander at the pumpkins, but finally, a gorgeous display of “fairy tale” pumpkins caught my eye. These are the really cute, interesting-looking pumpkins that, apparently, look like Cinderella’s carriage. And cost as much, too!

Seriously? My favorite nursery just became my worst enemy. Might as well call them Shylock’s for the usury they’re charging.

I hightailed it out of there without buying a thing. But had a very pleasant half hour looking around.

Target was my destination today. Trash bags, remember?

Just get the bags and get home. You have papers to grade, Missy!

But the pumpkins had caught my imagination.

I knew that Trader Joe’s had sold them in the past, and for much less than the nursery, so I decided to head there just as soon as I finished at Target. Those pumpkins would sell out quickly, so I really, really needed to check today to see if they had them.

Priorities, remember?

I trekked to Trader Joe’s in the next town over, only to find that their fairy tale pumpkins had not come in yet. But, of course, I picked up a couple things I needed while I was in there.

After a morning of running around, I finally came home. First I unloaded my Target purchases—those groceries wouldn’t unload themselves, you know!

Next, I threw in another load of laundry.

Finally, I looked at my kitchen floor and decided that today—today!—was the day it needed to be cleaned. Which would involve, of course, moving all of the chairs and stools and rugs in order to sweep, then mop, the floors.

An hour later, my floors were shining like they did on the day they were put in!

It was 2:30 by this time, and the papers had not been touched.

Nor had I eaten any lunch yet. Lunch is important, right? Priorities. I couldn’t grade papers without a little sustenance.

I returned a phone call.

Julia called and needed a ride home from school.

And still, those papers sat, ungraded.

My day has now been wasted frittered away very productive. I have clean, shiny floors, and my daughter is safely home from school, working on her homework, trying hard not to procrastinate, because we all know that procrastination is bad.

Best of all, I now have trash bags.

Letter to my 16-year-old self

Emily at Chatting at the Sky released a new book this week titled Graceful. It’s a book for teenage girls (right up my alley!), and in honor of the new book she thought it might be neat for bloggers to write letters to their 16-year-old selves.

(Neat? Really? Who even says that any more?)

Anyway, it took a while to conjure up images of way back then, but once I got into it, this was really fun. Hope you enjoy this blast into my past!

Dear Me,

It’s hard to even remember you back then. Tall (you reached your full 5’ 9” height in 8^th grade), lanky (check out those legs!), and feeling more insecure than pretty much anybody else around you.

These are some things I wish you had known back then. But then again, isn’t hindsight always 20/20?

1. Life isn't always easy, is it? Sorrow and loneliness seem to be your closest companions, but they don’t have to be. Stop relying on yourself so much and let others in. Stop fighting with your sisters and make friends with them instead. Life would be a whole lot easier with a couple of advocates on your side.

2. You feel like a fish out of water in high school. You wish you had more friends, but making friends is hard. Don’t worry. College is coming, and you’ll make the best friends of your life there.

3. You so want a boy to like you. Any boy. Don’t waste so much time and emotional energy on that—it really isn’t worth it. Besides, you won’t marry a boy from high school (thank goodness!). You’ll wait for the right one, and you won’t even recognize him when he’s right under your nose. (You’re kinda dumb about boys. Sorry.)

4. You really want to make people happy. This is a good thing and a bad thing. You’re going to have to try to figure out when it’s worth it and when it’s not.

5. Watch your parents carefully. They’ve been through a lot, and still, they really know how to love.

6. You’re really skinny—enjoy it while you can, but don’t make that your identity. It won’t last.

7. Keep reading. Keep dreaming. And talk to Grandpa Earl about his travels because some day soon you will go to England, and it will change your life forever.

 8. That one time? After a football game with your friends? Do. Not. Go. So not worth it.

9. Oh, and the hair? Just don’t ever go there again either.

10. You really love Jesus, but you feel like there’s something you should DO to make Him love you back. There isn’t. Not one thing. He already loves you more than you know. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a long time before you get that. I wish you could get that now and rest in it forever.

Despite all of this fairly harsh criticism of you, I have to say that you’ve turned out pretty well. You have learned a few things along the way, you’ve become friends with your sisters, and best of all, you’ve let God take over.

You're in for a lot of great adventures--you'll go places, meet people, and do things that you can't possibly dream about right now. 

You’ve had a good life, dear Me. A really, really blessed life.

September Update

Sitting . . . on a sunny dock overlooking blue water and perfect sky.

Drinking . . . coffee. Strong and black in the early morning light.

Enjoying . . . warm sand on my toes and the company of life-long friends.

Hearing . . . happy squeals from children on the beach nearby. The clanging of sailboats in the harbor. Waves kissing the shore.

Talking . . . about washing machines the way we used to talk about boys.

Feeling . . . thankful . . . for friendships that have lasted long despite miles and experiences and paths unlikely.

Realizing . . . that life, maturity, and experience really do bring joy.

Wondering . . . why it has taken us 30 years to make this happen.

Feeling Thankful Today

I haven’t written much about this because at first I didn’t think it was my story. It happened while I was in Italy, so I wasn’t really that involved.

But the more I think about it, and the more I talk to people about it, the more I see that it IS part of my story, so I’m going to write about it.

And also, Hurricane Isaac is making me think about storms.

On July 1, our town was hit suddenly by a severe thunderstorm. Those happen here—we’re used to them—but this storm was unusual from what I understand. The suddenness and the severity were intense, catching everyone by surprise. They called it a “land hurricane,” whatever that is.

I won’t go into the details because the details aren’t part of my story (I was halfway around the world, remember?), but you have to know that the storm hit just after noon on a Sunday. My husband and daughter, who drove separate cars, were just coming home from church.

What happened next IS part of my story.

This is my husband’s car.

 The car where he was trapped for 20 minutes until my daughter (who, thankfully, was in the basement of our house) found him.

When I got word in Italy about what happened (via Facebook, I might add!) I kind of shrugged and told someone, “Gee, there was a really bad storm at home. My husband was trapped in his car for 20 minutes under a tree.”

The Italian guy looked at me and said, “You are so calm. How can you be so calm about this? Do you have storms often?”

I explained that the Midwest is known for having thunderstorms and tornadoes. It’s just something we live with.

I hadn’t seen the pictures yet.

 The next day when B posted pictures on Facebook, I realized, fully, what had happened.

My husband, my rock, my friend, the love of my life, could have been killed.

Really.

I have laughed about it since then, now that I can laugh about it, now that he’s here and he’s fine. But when I really sit in silence and think about what could have happened, how I could right now be trying to pick up the pieces of my life after a tragic accident, I realize that I have much to be thankful for.

And that’s why I’m writing today.

I’m thankful that my husband wasn’t hurt worse. Aside from some scrapes and bruises and a few shards of glass in his arm, he was not hurt.

Thank you, Lord.

I’m thankful that my daughter, who was driving a tiny car that day, was not the one to be trapped under the tree because the outcome for her could have been much different.

Thank you, Lord.

I’m thankful, selfishly, that B wasn’t driving my car that day because his car was a company car, and his company handled all the details of towing the car away, paying for a rental, and getting him a new car. Such an amazing blessing that I do NOT take for granted.

Thank you, Lord.

Mostly today, I am thankful for the husband that God has given me and that He has given us even a few more days together. I don’t know what will happen in the future, I certainly know that accidents happen, but I know we have today and for that I am thankful.

Now tell me, what are YOU thankful for today?

"What I Did on My Summer Vacation"

Hi all!

Just checking in from a life that just seems to get in the way of the blog.

We just spent two glorious weeks in the Northwoods. You remember last summer, right? When we spent a month up there? We liked it so much that we decided to go back, but without the luxury of a sabbatical we had to “settle” for two weeks. I’m not complaining.

One week of vacation is delicious, but two weeks is sublime.

 The first week of vacation is usually spent unwinding anyway, so after you’ve unwound, you get to practice relaxing for a while. And it does take practice. If you’ve never taken a two-week vacation, you really should try it.

I came back feeling like a blob of jello.

So what did we do on our vacation?

We made s’mores. Over the lamest fires you’ve ever seen. You’d never know we have spent thousands of dollars sending our girls to summer camp to learn how to make a fire. I think we need to get our money back. Still, the s’mores were yummy.

We slept. A lot. Something about all that fresh air made us all tired. One day, after waking up around 8, I felt like I needed a nap . . . at 10. But there’s just something nice about not needing to be anywhere and nobody caring one way or another if you decide to take a nap two hours after you wake up.

We tanned. Oh yes we did. I will shout it from the rooftops that I spent as much time in the sun as I could. Because when you live in a place where you barely see the sun from February through April, you’re pretty excited to finally bask in it for a while.

We boated. B has his little canoe/kayak combo thingy, which is really fun. So much fun that one day we took off in his little boat, leaving the kids behind, and headed out exploring. Three hours later, after running into some pretty windy conditions on the lake which may have involved whitecaps, we finally made it back to our dock. I may or may not have kissed it.

 We watched the Olympics. Four years ago we were on a missions trip in Switzerland when the Olympics took place, so we really didn’t get to see them. In fact (embarrassing confession here), until a few weeks ago I honestly had never hears of Ussain Bolt. Truly! That’s how unOlympic-savvy I am. So this time around we were all excited to take in as much Olympic action as possible. Favorites so far? Gabby Douglas. Jordyn Wieber. Missy Franklin. I have a thing for teenage girls.

And after this morning’s Today Show interview with Lolo Jones, I think she may very well be making the list too.

We went on adventures. Caroline really wanted to show us a place she had been to in the Upper Peninsula, so we drove three hours to find it. Only when we got there she said it wasn’t where she had been. Thankfully, the forward-thinking mother of this family suggested that we bring B’s iPad along with us, and we were able to actually find the remote island that she wanted to see.

Little Presque Isle. Not just your average, plain old, run-of-the-mill Presque Isle.

 It was worth every tense moment of frustration.

We fished. Well, some of us fished. Some of us just watched from the dock while we baked basked in the sun.

On this trip, Julia learned how to bait a hook AND how to take the fish off the hook. I was so proud of my little fisherwoman!

In fact, she got so good at it that she caught this:

 Right after that, B thought he’d get in on the bass action, so he threw in a line and caught this:

 He may or may not have thrown it back.

We had a great vacation, and we loved every minute of just being together. We missed Kate, who was busy working at the camp across the lake, but we got to see her a couple of times.

Now real life rushes in. It’s time for me to head back to work and see if I can find my office again. It’s time for the girls to get ready for school.

And it’s time for Kate to come home!

How about you?? What have you been doing this summer? I'd love to hear from you, so leave a comment!

Sales Call

A word-for-word transcript of a call that took place in my home last week: 

“Hello, may I speak to Shelly’s parent?”

“Excuse me?”

“May I please speak to Shelly’s parent?”

“Well, Shelly’s parents live in Arizona.”

Silence.

“Uh. Oh, really? Do you take care of Shelly?”

“Yes, you could say that. I definitely take care of Shelly. Shelly is almost 50 years old.”

Silence again.

Deep breath.

“Well, my name is Greg, and I’m calling from the SAT prep program.”

Click.

Two Camps (or Yes, Another Weather Post)

Unless you’ve been living in a cave, or overseas, you probably know that we’ve been having an exceptionally warm winter, which, in the past couple of weeks has led to a very early spring. It’s a little unsettling, I have to admit, but I’m thrilled.

 Heck, if this were June I’d be thrilled.

We’re breaking all kinds of records right now. Birds and small children are confused. I’ve been sweating profusely for days, and humidity is winning the battle over my hair.

And somewhere Al Gore is sipping a Manhattan, his feet propped up on a leather ottoman, laughing.

This is crazy weather.

I’ve noticed over the past few days, with all of this weather-craziness, that there are two kinds of people: those who see these warm, sunny days as a kiss from God, and those who are waiting for the mid-April blizzard.

I’m in the first camp. I blithely reach for a short-sleeved blouse as I get dressed for work. I happily stroll across campus, basking in the warmth radiating from the sidewalk. I even stop to take pictures of the flowering trees; I’m so taken aback by their early beauty.

And even though I do have fleeting moments of wondering what all this early budding will mean a couple of months from now—will we have flowers in May if they all bloom now?—I don’t really care. I’m simply enjoying every blissfully broken record that comes my way.

 My husband, on the other hand, is in the other camp. Every day he announces (with some sense of authority, I might add) that this cannot possibly last and there’s no way spring could come this early and we haven’t seen the end of things yet.

Two camps. Two ways of looking at things. Two entirely different perspectives.

He says po-tay-to (with a strong Chicago accent!); I say po-tah-to. (Not really, but you get the idea.)

And that’s pretty much how things go around here. We’ll wait this one out to see who’s right.

How about you? Are you blithely enjoying the warmer weather? Or are you getting your snow shovel ready?

You Just Never Know

When 2011 started, pretty much the only thing I knew was that we would be taking a sabbatical month in July. As I look back over the year, I realize that pretty much everything else that happened has been a surprise.

You just never know what a year will bring.

In January I would have had no idea that my grandmother would die just a month later--only three months before her 100^th birthday.

I had no plans to take Kate, Mary, and Lauren to New York City for spring break. But what great memories I have of that trip and what a special blessing to get to know Kate’s friends a little better.

On January 1, 2011 I never, ever, in a million years (hyperbole, much?) would have expected to meet up with my former department chair, and I certainly did not think that she would ask me (for a second time) to come back to work, and I absolutely positively DID NOT expect the answer to come flying out of my mouth to be “Yes.” What a reversal of so many things.

An inconvenience? Maybe. A surprise? To be sure. A complete turn around of my life? You bet.

The best thing for me and my family right now? Absolutely.

Over the past couple of years I have tried to be more intentional about following God. I have tried to say yes to His call. And, oh how He has surprised me.

Good surprises.

Scary surprises.

Some sad surprises.

But the most-fulfilling-of-all surprises.

And so, on this first day of January 2012, I can honestly say that I have no idea what this year will bring.

And that’s entirely O.K. with me.

Because here’s what I’ve learned in my nearly half-century of living: when I make the plans things never quite go as well as I had hoped. But when I open myself to what God has in store for me, whatever that entails, I have learned that His plans are always so much better, so much more interesting, so much more fulfilling than anything I could ever dream up.

So on this day I look ahead, not with fear, nor with dread. I look ahead with bright anticipation, looking forward to what our good and loving God has in store for me.

Source: Uploaded by user via Shelly on Pinterest

. . . and all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

 Julian of Norwich

A Year in Pictures {2011}

My friend, Jo-Lynne, posted her year in pictures, so I thought I'd totally steal her idea. It took a while, but it was fun to look back on what turned out to be an absolutely wonderful year.

January

2011 started kind of slowly for me. It seems I did a lot of cooking in January.


Honey Whole Wheat Bread

Homemade Spaghetti Sauce

And then there was Blissdom . . . where I roomed with this great gal.

And met this super-fun gal, Robin, for the first time (hopefully not the last)!

February

Can you say snowmageddon?? Oh my word what a lot of snow we had!

Thunder was in her glory.

Also in February, this one became a teenager, and we celebrated by eating at Grand Luxe Cafe and going to see "Wicked" in the big city.

March


March brought not one, but TWO spring breaks for me this year.

The first was spent in New York City with these three lovelies. We had a blast covering pretty much every inch of Manhattan. That was also the first time I had ever tried sushi--and I liked it!

My second spring break was with the rest of the fam (and Caroline's friend, Emma) later in the month when we headed to one of my favorite places ever--Kiawah Island, South Carolina.

Sadly, the weather didn't exactly cooperate, but we had a great time anyway.

I met this sweet blog friend, Glenda, who has since become a "real life" friend.

Finally, Kate turned 19 in March. (Which suddenly makes me realize that she will soon be 20, which is impossible because there is NO WAY I could have a 20-year-old!)

April


More birthdays in April. Caroline turned 17, and I turned . . . yeah.

And then there was this big event:

We celebrated in style with a bunch of Kate's friends . . . at 5:00 a.m.

May

I wrote a 31 Days series in May titled "31 Days Closer to Your Kids." Not just challenging, but the whole month was really fun for me. I loved blogging alongside Sandy, Melanie, and others.

June

I celebrated 26 years of wedded bliss to this guy.

And I shared one of my favorite risotto recipes with you. Mmmmmmm.

July

Ahhhhh. Now July was something special. It was the month we had waited all year for because it was the month that B got a sabbatical.

Not only did we he fish, we laughed a lot. There's just so much to laugh about in the Northwoods!

Most of all, though, we read, relaxed, and rested.

To say that July was our favorite month would be an understatement.

August

This year "back to school" took on a whole new meaning for me as I literally went back to school, taking a teaching position for the first time in five years. I must have been scrambling because I don't have a single good picture to share from August.

September

One of our highlights was being a tourist in our own city. One gorgeous September Saturday we just decided to make a memory by taking the Chicago Architectural River Cruise, something we had never done in all our years here. What a great day! I'm sure it won't be the last time we take that tour.

October

My sister, Jodi, came for a visit in October and we spent a day in our hometown with our Aunt Alice.

That fun day sparked my "Where I'm From" post.

November

Teaching kept me very busy this fall, but in November I took on yet another blogging challenge: I wrote about one thing for which I was thankful every day until Thanksgiving. That was so much fun that I hope I remember to do it again next year (no guarantees on that one).

I might have also taken a certain active dog around our favorite park.

December

Again, teaching took its toll on my blog as I finished up the semester by grading 40 research papers. Ah well, all was not lost. I still wrote one of my favorite posts of the year and enjoyed time with family right here at my house.

Can you tell we're sisters?

My neice, Paige, along with my sister, Jennifer, and her husband, Tom. We love hanging out with them . . . and their daughter, Kira, who had not arrived yet.

What will 2012 bring? We never know. But we do know that with Christ by our side all will be well.

And all will be well.

Happy New Year to you and yours.

Eager Learners

Standing in front of a class can be intimidating.

Standing in front of a group of high-achieving, highly-motivated, top-of-the-line Christian college students is terrifying.

Especially after five years.

I wondered if they could tell I was nervous. I wondered if they could tell I was out of practice. I wondered if they would mock me behind my back . . . or, heck, even in front of me.

They could, you know, mock me. They would have every reason to do so. It was not a good hair day.

I wondered if they could see me sweat. Sweating was something I was really good at today.

And I wondered if they could tell that I didn’t sleep very well last night. All night long, every time I flipped over (which I did a lot of last night), I pictured myself walking the halls of the very old building in which I teach. I don’t know why I was walking the halls—I’m the old ghost they can’t get rid of, I guess—but I do know that in my dreams I never really made it into the classroom.

Bad sign.

Thankfully, though, I did make it into the classroom. Twice. I’m teaching two classes this fall; same subject, both, because we don’t want to confuse the old ghost and plus we’d really like her to pull her hair out grading 42 papers at a time. What was I thinking?

Is it too late to back out now? Probably not. They’ve been paying me since July.

Anyway, I made it through the first two classes without too much trouble. Even a baboon could walk their way through a syllabus and tell the kids to write something. Which is pretty much all I did today.

I learned something today, though, which I will share with you just in case you have someone going to college soon or who is in college now or in case you’re thinking about going back to college someday soon: these kids are eager learners. And I say that in the kindest possible way.

Now, my oldest, Kate, was what you might call an eager learner. She was the kid who always raised her hand in second grade--you know the kid, the one who wiggled her fingers like crazy and rested her arm in the other hand when it got tired--just hoping and praying the teacher would call on her. Kind of like Horshack in the old “Welcome Back, Kotter” show.

Remember him? “Ooooh! Ooooh!”

Anyway, I know for a fact that some of Kate’s elementary school teachers didn’t appreciate her learning style. They might not have seen her eager hand waving raising as a positive thing in their classroom. They might have even thought it was annoying.

But I always found it endearing.

Anyway, today’s students would put Kate to shame.

Five years ago, the last time I stood in front of a classroom full of bright, shining, college-aged faces, my students were kind of aloof. Occasionally someone would talk to me after class, but rarely, and I do mean rarely, would a student come to see me in my office. Only in the most dire of circumstances would one of my students venture up to the third floor cubicle where I resided back then.

Back in the day. When I taught with confidence and my students were just normal.

Today I have already fielded two emails from the same student wondering about his research topic. (Hint: the paper is due at the end of the semester—16 weeks away!) I’ve had one student come see me in my office about the same thing. I had one student give me an official-looking government-type document excusing him from class on Monday (he has to go out of the country—the nerve!) And I’ve had about 15 students shake my hand and introduce themselves.

Honestly, I was overwhelmed with their kind welcome back to the classroom.

I shared my surprise with my family over dinner and they all agreed that these kids are the product of their competitive environment. They have all been told to meet the teacher, stand out, to make an impression from Day One.

But really? Maybe a few could just wait to meet me on Friday.

Because to tell you the truth, after getting up at some God-awful hour (well, compared to the God-nice hour I had been getting up all summer) and spending eight—EIGHT!—hours at work today (folks, I honestly cannot tell you the last time I put in an eight hour day at any job) I went home with a wee bit of a headache.

Not from the students. They were delightful.

If not eager.

Two classes down; 46 to go.

Stuart Smalley's Guide to Getting My Groove Back

Source: google.com via Shelly on Pinterest

Today I embark on a new adventure.

After a five-year hiatus—five years of blessing during which I started this blog, had many opportunities to speak, and made lots of new friends—I’m heading back into the classroom. (Classes actually start next week, but today I’m attending a New Faculty Orientation.)

I’m returning to a classroom where I’ve taught off-and-on for the past 20 years. To teach a class I’ve taught 12 or so times.

So why, this time, am I so apprehensive?

Why, this time, does it feel so much harder?

The first time I taught this class I was 28 years old, working full-time, and pregnant with my first child. I had finished my master’s degree a few years earlier and wanted to give teaching a try, so I didn’t think twice when I was asked to teach at my alma mater (where I was also working). I taught on my lunch hour and loved every minute of that semester.

Never once did I think about failure. (Even though I had no idea what I was doing.)

But now? Today? I think about the possibility of screwing up every single day. I wonder just exactly how I’m going to handle the sudden busyness of life. I wonder if my students will laugh at me. I wonder what I’m going to say to them every day.

So why the change? Why do I doubt myself now?

I’m listening to the wrong voices. I know it. I try not to do it. I battle it. But I still listen to the wrong voices.

Yesterday I read a wonderful post by Michael Hyatt in which he talked about this very thing—self-doubt--and he gave five suggestions for changing the voice we’re listening to. I thought it would be helpful for me to just walk through Michael’s suggestions as they pertain to my current situation.

Hyatt says:

1. Become aware of the Narrator. Hyatt says to ask ourselves: What is the story I am telling myself right now?

I’m listening to a story of failure, of ridicule, of incompetence. Sad, but true. I’m wondering why God would choose me to teach this year when I thought I’d be doing something else.

2. Evaluate the story the Narrator is telling. Ask: Is this storyline accurate?

No, it’s not accurate. It’s not even close to accurate. The way things “fell into place” for me to have this position, the timing of everything, was absolutely God’s doing. I have no doubt that this is where He wants me this year.

3. See the story from a larger perspective. Ask: How does God intend this situation for good?

From the day I said “yes” to going back to teaching, my family has been so supportive. My girls are obviously older now, and our family situation is much more manageable than it was five years ago. It’s time. I know that.

I also think one really important aspect of the “bigger picture” is my students. I’ve always enjoyed my students, but now, as a mom to a college student, I feel an even greater affinity to these kids. As someone in my family pointed out one day, “Mom, maybe God wants you there to minister to your students.”

I know He does.

4. Affirm what you know is true. Ask: What do I know to be true?

The truth is, I’ve always gotten good evaluations from my students. My department chair always has positive things to say about my work. I know in my heart that I’m a really good teacher.

What is true is that I can do this. I’ve done it before and I can do it again. With excellence.

5. Write a new script. Ask: How can I make the choices that create the best possible story?

The way I see it, I can choose to just “get through” the semester, or I can choose to see my job as God-given, God-ordained, God-blessed. I can choose to be unprepared when I walk into the classroom, or I can be well-prepared and teach with excellence. I can choose to have surface conversations with my students every day, or I can choose to show true interest in their lives.

Now that I’ve written all this out, I kind of feel Stuart Smalley-ish. Remember Stuart Smalley? He was the SNL character of long ago who used to say, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!”

But, hey, maybe that’s the voice I should be listening to right now. And if that's what it takes to get my groove back as a teacher, I'll Stuart Smalley-speak into my life every day if I have to.

(Thanks, Michael Hyatt. This exercise has been really helpful.)

As I head into this new adventure, with all of the changes it brings, I could sure use some extra prayer. Thanks in advance!

So how about you? Are you listening to the wrong voice about some situation in your life? Spill it!

Northwoods Funnies

**In the interest of full disclosure, there may be some slightly inappropriate content at the end of this post. My children have seen these pictures, but you may not want yours to see them. Just sayin'. And I promise this will be the last time anything like this ever occurs on this blog again.**

This is the post about our sabbatical that could practically write itself. As we spent time getting to know the Northwoods, we started to notice some pretty, shall we say, interesting, sights. Coming from the land of the A-type personality where every "i" is dotted and every "t" is crossed, it was refreshing to spend a little time in a place where that kind of thing doesn't much matter. 

At all.

Our journey begins on a road. A single road with not much else around it. B and I were driving to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan one day (lest you think that was a far trek, it really only took about 45 minutes to get to our destination) when he looked down and saw this on his GPS:

You know you're in the middle of nowhere when your GPS shows no other roads . . . or landmarks . . . or even a rest stop for goodness sake!

As our journey continued, we drove through the town of Watersmeet, MI, a welcoming sort of town. 

But what struck us as so funny was that this is the only place in the world that is actually PROUD to be called the Nimrods! In fact, it's plastered all over town--even on the side of the high school.

Go Nimrods!

Of course my husband had to research the meaning behind the word Nimrod thinking that for sure there had to be something more to the pride these people had in their name. I could have told him a Nimrod was a dolt, a dufus, a dummy, but no, he had to go and prove me wrong. The original meaning of the word was a mighty hunter, but these days, thanks to popular culture, most people think of a Nimrod the way I do.

They might want to consider a name change. Just sayin'.

On our way up to the U.P., we passed a sign that made my head turn. In fact, I saw it for a brief second, but wasn't really sure I had seen what I thought I saw. If I had really seen what I thought I saw, this was for sure going to be blog fodder for quite some time.

So on the way home we looked and looked and finally found it--the sign that made us laugh until we cried.

As my husband said, "Because you just can't get any better than pizza and chips made by a ho!"

Just in case you're wondering where you can get such delicious delicacies by such highly specialized chefs, you'll find your "ho-made" wonders at a place called Buckshots Saloon.

Reservations accepted.

Finally (and here's where you might want to shield the eyes of your children), on our way to dinner one night, we were driving down the road when we drove past a bar which, I remarked, was usually quite crowded. "Hmmmm. Must be good," we both mused.

As we came a little closer, we saw an unusual sight looming from the back of a pickup truck in the parking lot.

We were driving quickly past, but suddenly our heads shot around to take another look. For the second time on this trip we found ourselves wondering, "Was what we think we saw really what we saw??"

My quick-thinking hubby laughed and said, "Wait a minute! What was that? I've gotta go back and see this!" So he turned the car around and drove past the bar a second time.

We drove into the parking lot to get a better look (and to get a few pictures) and found this:

But the best part was that I wasn't the only person taking pictures that night.

There's just nothing more to say about that.

We loved our time in Northwoods. And we thank them all for the many moments of hilarity.

"And much, much more."

So let's speculate. Where would YOU put a sculpture like that? Where do you think it was going?

Your Sabbatical Questions Answered

You had questions. I've got answers.

Let's get to it, shall we?

Richella asked:  "Where did you live for the month? In a cabin on that gorgeous lake? In a lodge? In a cottage? In a tent (I think probably not)?" 

Ha! A tent! Perish the thought! Actually, Richella, we stayed here.

This two bedroom, two bath cottage is about 10 feet from the water. There was no air conditioning (none needed except for about two of the days), but all of the windows opened up. We left the windows wide open most of the time, so in the morning we woke to the sound of the water lapping the shoreline.

And this was our view. Every morning.

Except for one morning when we woke to basically whiteness. Fog was everywhere! You couldn't even see the water at all and the sound (or lack of it) was surreal. That was an interesting morning.

Speaking of mornings, Glenda wanted to know if I slept in or watched the sun come up over the lake. Well, in northern Wisconsin the sun comes up awfully early. We're talking 4:45 a.m. And there was a skylight in our bedroom, so by 6:30 or 7:00 I was awake and ready to go. And even at that early hour, I had already missed the sunrise!

"What was the weather like where you were? It's been hot as blue blazes here; I'm hoping you were in more temperate climes." Sorry to hear about your heat, Richella. You should head north. Seriously, we had the best weather and I've got the tan to prove it. Except for the week my parents visited us from Arizona (I think they brought their hot weather with them), the weather was between 70 and 80 every day. It was a little humid, but no big deal. And at night the temps would go down to about 50, which is perfect for sleeping.

And the best part? Hardly any mosquitoes! We brought all kinds of bug spray with us, thinking that the Wisconsin state bird truly was the mosquito, but we really didn't need it. I think I used bug spray maybe twice.

Glenda asked: "Did you read anything fun?" Oh yes, but my reading was really across a large range of topics. Some was research, some was for fun. It was such an eclectic mix that I'll just list it out for you here.

1. "The Courage to Teach" by Parker Palmer. (Just getting ready for my next big adventure.)

2 and 3. "The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag" and "A Red Herring without Mustard" by Alan Bradley. These are the second and third in the Flavia de Luce series. The first was "The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie." Oh how I love Miss Flavia!

4. "In the Woods" by Tana French. No comment.

5. "Give them Grace" by Elise Fitzpatrick.

6. "Heaven is for Real" by Todd Burpo and Lynn Vincent. A friend handed me this book and said, "Have you read this? Here, I'm finished. Read it." So I did. It didn't take long, but it will stay with me much, much longer. Still thinking about this one.

[edited to add: 7. "The Red Queen" by Philippa Gregory.]

(self-incriminating photo of me reading)

You know what I didn't read? Blogs. No internet (unless we drove to town).

Here's a great question from Genda: "Learn anything new about your husband?" Hmmmm. I'd have to say yes and no. No, because it's not so much stuff I learned, but yes in that I needed to be reminded of a couple of things. Like how much he loves to be outside. I'm telling you, my husband was in his ELEMENT out on the lake. He'd get up in the mornings, throw in a line or twenty, come in for breakfast and then head back outside. He was like a little boy. "Bye Mom! I'm going out to play!" and zoom, the back door would slam and he'd be gone. He also loved paddling his little boat around or taking long bike rides. My guy was happy! (I'm thinking through another post about stuff I learned while on sabbatical, so maybe I'll write more about this later on this week.)

Last question: "Did you cook simple meals or more complicated ones?" Glenda, my dear, the most difficult meal I cooked was steak on the grill. We definitely ate out too much, but when I did cook, the meals were ridiculously simple. Whatever we could grill was pretty much our fare.

So, you can see that relaxation was the name of the game on our sabbatical. We did a lot of driving around and exploring, too, which brought us to tears in laughter sometimes. Come back tomorrow for a glimpse into the more funny side of life in the Northwoods.

Linking up with Amanda at Serenity Now--Weekend Bloggy Reading.

Sublime Sabbatical

Well, folks, we’re back. After four weeks in the Northwoods of Wisconsin, sitting by a lake and simply enjoying being together, we’re finally back to reality.

(And just to make sure, I took a trek to Target this morning and got a swift kick of reality right in the keister. But I didn’t even glance at the school supplies aisle. That can wait.)

So how do I do it?

How do I condense one happy, relaxing, fulfilling, sunny, joyful, memorable month into a blog post?

I’m not sure I can, but I’m willing to give it a try. Let’s go for one of the good old essay-starter standbys—the dictionary definition.

Sabbatical: "any extended period of leave from one's customary work, especially for rest, to acquire new skills or training."

Let’s “unpack” this term, shall we? (And while we’re at it, let’s also agree never to use the term “unpack” again. K?)

“Any extended period of leave . . .” One month could be considered extended, dontcha think? Especially since I’ve never spent a month away from home with my family, ever. Other than the summer I spent at Oxford as a college student, I’ve never spent a month anywhere.

“ . . . from one’s customary work . . .” My husband, I think I may have mentioned, is a business man which makes the sabbatical concept even more unheard of. You should have seen the looks we got when we told people we were going on sabbatical. “Really? But he’s not a pastor,” was usually the response we would get, along with the quizzical looks and head scratching that goes along with the utter confusion on their faces.

Nope, my husband is not a pastor or a missionary or anything having to do with that line of work. He’s just a guy who works hard at his job (for a great company which he is never allowed to leave, I might add) and sometimes spends long hours at the office. He also works hard at some of his volunteer responsibilities at our church and for a mission organization. Let’s just say that this guy gives a lot of himself to others, so to spend some extended time doing things quite unlike his usual, is, in itself, a gift.

“ . . . especially for rest . . .” Ahhhhh, rest. Now that’s what a sabbatical should be about. And rest we did. We did everything we wanted to do—spent time with our parents, our kids, and good friends—but mostly we just rested. I can hardly wait to hear the reactions of the people at work on Monday when they see B. He looks like an entirely different person—tanned, long-haired (although that will come to an end before Monday), and completely and utterly relaxed.

“ . . . to acquire new skills or training. . . .” Would fishing be considered a new skill? How about driving a boat? Or tanning on a dock? Because that’s pretty much all my husband learned how to do. (O.K., to be fair and because I know he’ll call me on it, he already knew how to fish.) The main thing I think he learned, though, was how to relax. How to really and truly pull himself mentally out of the game and to fully invest himself in just doing nothing.

So we’re home now. It may take some time to process what this all meant to us, but maybe it could best be described in terms of an experience I had earlier this week. We had a perfect, and I do mean PERFECT, day on Wednesday. Some friends had come to visit us for a couple of days and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. We had rented a pontoon boat for the day, so we spent several hours on the water, enjoying the scenery, watching the eagles float overhead, fishing a little. As the day was coming to a close and we skimmed across the water toward home, I found myself getting completely choked up. Thankfully I was sitting in the back of the boat so nobody could see me, but I couldn’t help crying just a little. Here I was with people I loved, doing something I love to do, on a perfectly beautiful day. God’s goodness to me was overwhelming; I just couldn’t take it all in. The gift I had been given was impressed upon my heart, my mind, my soul, and I knew I would never forget it. I probably looked like an idiot, but through a few tears, the only way I could express my gratitude was to look up at the perfectly cloudless blue sky . . . and smile.

Overwhelmed? I am. Blessed? Oh yes. Smiling from head to toe? Definitely.

I have so much more to tell you and lots of photos to share, but I’ll get to that next week. It’s so hard to know where to start and how to “unpack” it all (kind of like all the dirty laundry in my suitcase—ugh). Maybe it would be easier if you asked me some questions and I’ll answer them. Just leave a comment or a question you might have about our time away, and I’ll try to get to them next week.

Until then, I think I'll go take a nap.

This post is linked with Richella's "Grace Imparted" party. You can read more stories of blessings over there.

Not quite August, but I thought I'd give you a glimpse . . .

Sitting: On the dock.

Time: 6:47 p.m.

Watching: Two amazingly fast jet skis racing across the lake; an eagle floating high above the water.

Hearing: the buzz of the jet skis, the slight splash of the water as it hits the rocks on the shore, the jingle-jangle of Brian’s lure as it comes out of the water, laughter from the kids on the party barge across the cove.

Smelling: Lake water, what else?

Tasting: wine on my tongue

Feeling: the softest of breezes on my sun-kissed skin

Perfect contentment? I think so.

It Only Happens Every Seven Years

Today is interview day. An interview with . . . me.

Conducted by . . . me.

That's all about . . . yeah, you guessed it.

Because I have some news to share with you. Nothing too earth shattering, but you may want to sit down for this one.

So Shelly, what are your summer plans?
Well, Shelly, this summer is a big summer for us. One we've been thinking about for, oh, about seven years. My husband gets to take a sabbatical from his job this summer.

A sabbatical? Is he a pastor or something?
Nope. He's not a pastor or a teacher or anything like that. He's just a businessman who works for a great company with a sabbatical policy.

How long is his sabbatical?
Four weeks. In addition to his regular vacation.

And what will you be doing on this sabbatical?
Me? Working, most likely. I've got a lot of writing to do. And then there's this matter of classes I'm teaching this fall. I need to work on my syllabus, get to know a new textbook or two, and make up some assignments. But the good thing is, I can do most of this from a chair on a dock.

Source: google.com via Shelly on Pinterest

Him? Fishing. Canoeing. Reading. Relaxing. And definitely NOT working--he's not allowed.

Where will you be?
All I can say is that we'll be someplace where the internet is not. Cell phone service too. For a four-computer (six or seven depending on how you count it) family, this is going to be a challenge.

How will your husband manage?
I've been asking myself the same question.

Do you have a stack of books to take with you? If so, what are they?
What a silly question! You of all people should know that I will bring a stack of books, and an eclectic stack at that. I've already mentioned the textbook (it's called They Say, I Say just in case you're interested), but aside from that, here are a few titles on my list.

The entire Chronicles of Narnia series (because, I am so embarrassed to admit this, I've never read them all).

The Weed that Strings the Hangman's Bag by Alan Bradley (sequel to The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie - lovely book)

The Red Queen by Philippa Gregory

In the Woods by Tana French (recommended by Amy . . . a bunch of times!)

Give them Grace by Elise Fitzpatrick

Will your family come with you?
Oh yes, for part of the time. Various family members, including our parents, will be in and out for the first two weeks. One of our kids is at camp for the summer, so she won't be there--so sad.

For the second half, though, we're sending them all home or back to work or to camp, so B and I will have two weeks to ourselves. That hasn't happened in almost 20 years!


I'm a little afraid.

Will you be able to blog?
Be able to? I guess so. That's kind of like asking your 4th grade teacher "Can I go to the bathroom?" and she looks at you over the top of her glasses and says, "I don't know, can you?" Of course I could write blog posts till the fish jump in the boat, but will I? I think not.

Why not?
Lots of reasons, some intensely personal that have a lot to do with questioning why I do this day in and day out with so little feedback and results. If I were a stronger person, I probably wouldn't care about all that, but I'm weak, very weak, and I do wish for more. I'm tormented. Seriously.

But I also think it will do me some good to step away for a while. And write, quietly. Over on the dock. Without putting it "out there." Maybe I'll write some stuff I want to share with you. Maybe not. I have no idea what I'm doing other than following my husband on his sabbatical with a canoe on top of my car and some bikes hanging off the back.

That said, I will miss you, my friends. And I wish you a very, very happy summer.

See you in August!

I'm linking this post with Amanda's Weekend Bloggy Reading. If you'd like to follow my posts (when they resume in August) just head over there -------> to sign up!

Sweet Summertime

In our neighborhood, summer means going on high alert.

We watch for flooding, especially, because in this older neighborhood the sewer lines just aren't capable of handling all the . . . you know.

We watch for coyotes, because they eat little dogs (not that mine would be in danger).

We watch for various insects and vermin and natural disasters because that's just where we live. On the edge. Right here in suburbia.

So I wondered aloud on Facebook last night if Jack Bauer could have handled the 24 hours that we suffered through this week. Twenty four hours that actually turned into about 29 hours. Twenty nine terrible hours without power.

On Tuesday night we had a thunderstorm that produced very little activity other than a few raindrops, some pretty ginormous flashes of lightning, and a power outage to beat all power outages. Oh, and the tornado sirens that got to exercise their lungs for the first time in recent memory---three times.

Just this morning our power came back on.

Technically, our power was out, but we were still living our lives pretty much like normal because the best money we ever spent was on a generator. It hummed along quite happily, providing us with all the protection we needed this week because that's what we paid for it to do.

I'm sure our neighbors were ready to throttle that thing (or us!) as it buzzed along.

For 29 hours.

Loudly.

But I learned this week that one thing you cannot do when the power goes out is blog because, even if you have a generator to keep all the important components of your house operational (think T.V., air conditioning, refrigerator . . . let alone the sump pumps!), you still don't have the most important component of all . . . the wi-fi.

Sorry I haven't been around this week. My wi-fi went out with the power. And my generator could not solve all of the world's problems.

Just most of them.

26 Reasons I'm Glad I Said Yes

Today marks 26 years since my sweet husband drove this very young, scared, sobbing girl away from her parents’ farm. I am so glad he didn’t just turn around and take me back, even though I was a complete basket case.

B, this is for you. I’m so glad I said yes.

1. You didn’t turn around.
2. You dried my tears.
3. You took my hand.
4. You kept driving.
5. You like 70’s and 80’s rock music . . . turned up real loud.
6. You tolerate my music too.
7. You grabbed a sleeping bag and a backpack and discovered all the joys of my favorite place along with me.
8. You never complained about the youth hostels.
9. You let me go to grad school first.
10. You’re the smartest man I know. (And I mean that.)
11. Kate.
12. Caroline.
13. Julia.
14. You’re a great dad.
15. You make me laugh every day.
16. You turn your cell phone off on the weekends.
17. You like to travel (or at least you pretend you do to put up with my obsession).
18. You’re still so handsome.
19. You listen.
20. You encourage me.
21. You believe in me.
22. You love God more than me.
23. You quote movies.
24. Your favorite is "Braveheart."
25. You watch chick flicks with me.
26. And just like at the end of “You've Got Mail,”

. . . I’m so glad it was you.

You? Again?

{Photo credit}

I am about to tell you something completely embarrassing. The kind of information that, if I would ever be tempted to think too highly of myself, the mere thought of this situation will plant my feet firmly on terra firma.

Oh, there are so many ways to keep me down-to-earth, and I have plenty of friends who will happily join in the discussion about the many ways I’ve embarrassed myself over the years (if, that is, my friends actually read my blog *ahem* ). And then there’s the fam. They will always keep me humble.

But this one. Oh, this one was all mine, observed by my husband and a roomful of people who had no idea what was happening. Only B and I really knew.

I haven’t thought about this in a while, but I was reminded of it this weekend while Julia and I were watching the movie “You Again.” You probably haven’t seen it. I’m sure it was NOT a smashing success at the box office, and I’m equally sure it will turn up next week on ABC Family where they will play it over . . . and over . . . and over again. For weeks.

Anyway, “You Again” is about a girl who was a total geek in high school (let’s not go there because I can SO relate) and who gets tormented for four years by the most popular girl in the school. Fast forward a few years. The geek has turned into a beautiful princess who has found great success in the P.R. world (nope, can’t relate there). Her brother is getting married, so she flies home for his wedding to a girl she has not yet met. Or so she thinks!

Here’s where fiction meets the reality of my life. The ugly-duckling-now-turned-swan enters her mother’s kitchen to find . . . you guessed it! . . . her arch-nemesis from high school. She says hello, coolly, and her arch-nemesis says, “Oh my goodness! It’s so nice to MEET you!” Like she’d never even seen her before!

Now, here’s where the truth is stranger than fiction. And where I reveal what might have been the most humiliating experience of my life.

Several years ago a friend of mine was having a party, and she mentioned to me that she had invited a new couple who had just moved here. She told me their names, and I knew immediately that the guy was a guy I had gone on a date with in college.

One date. Only one.

B can absolutely confirm this because we (B and I) had been dating, but we broke up for a couple of months. It was during those couple of months that this guy asked me out. Shortly after that B and I got back together and the rest is history. Mr. X was no more.

Until my friend’s party. When she told me he was coming I simply said, “He probably won’t remember me” because I have a huge ego like that. Huge. I always assume people won’t remember me.

But my sweet friend said, “Oh yes he will! How do you forget someone you’ve taken out on a date?”

How do you, indeed?

So I made a little wager with my friend. Nothing on the line because we’re not huge gamblers, but I think I said something like, “I’ll make you a million dollar bet!” I told her not to say anything to him. We would just see what happened at the party.

You know what’s coming. I was introduced to him and his wife at the party and there was the look. That absolute blank look of no recognition whatsoever. “It’s nice to MEET you!” just like the movie.

Then B-with-the-big-mouth piped up (I think he may have had a slight grin on his face) and said, “I think you and Shelly might know each other.” To which I added one very obvious point (aside from the date) where we would have crossed paths in college.

But still, the guy looked at me and said, “Hmmmmm. Nope. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.” Blank looks all around.

{Photo credit}

At this point I just wanted to run away. Far, far away. But there’s my husband, standing there grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Oh yeah, this is one funny situation, Honey, isn’t it? Your wife is such a fun date that he DOESN’T EVEN REMEMBER ME!!

And there’s my friend, the hostess of the party, who is watching this whole situation unfold . . . badly . . . from across the room. As soon as I could excuse myself from the conversation (that was my punishment to my husband—I made him hang out and talk to him for a while. Talk about squirming!) I ran into the kitchen and grabbed my friend by the arm.

“I was right! I was right! He didn’t remember me!” Imagine the hilarity. Imagine the laughter. We suppressed giggles all night long.

So now I have to ask you . . . have you EVER forgotten someone you went out with—even if you only went out once? How do you forget taking someone on a date? And really, am I THAT forgettable? ARGH!