Category: Life according to Angela

One of my quirks is an insatiable desire to be photographed with wildflowers.

 

Poppies are my favorite.

Where’s Angie?

She’s out skipping in the wildflowers.

 I was invited to lunch for the first time in years. Too bad it was a goodbye lunch.

I wore a skirt.

We went to a girlie restaurant with many varieties of salad.

I ordered a lemonade instead of water.

 

I sorted my notes and letters last week, hoping to organize them. What I thought would be a 20 minute job grew to several hours because it was so fun to read from and remember friends. I’m going digital in everything from my cookbook to scrapbooks and literature. I am trying to avoid acquiring too many things to clutter the house, but I can’t get rid of notes from friends and relatives.

I decided to group things by year. It turns out that I know the best people. My stack of cards from 2005 and 2006 is enormous. These were years of upheaval and stress. Until last week I hadn’t realized how many people reached out to us to encourage, thank, and welcome us.

As I sorted, I noticed that the letters from 2010 are few. I’m grateful, because it turns out my card collection is an indicator of how much trouble I’m experiencing.  It’s also an indicator that people rely more and more on other means of communication. I do hope that old fashioned correspondence isn’t dead. I really love to write and receive letters. A note is something special that someone takes the time to create in a busy world with no time.

The S’mores were made by my friend, who drove across town to deliver to me when she discovered I wasn’t home to receive them. I tried to keep them from melting before they got home. We ate some and carried the rest into the library in my purse.

Generosity is worth preserving.

 

That cake I mentioned in my last post did not work. I baked at 325. Maybe if I baked at 350 the colors wouldn’t have had so much time to wander. It’s still pretty, but it is not what we worked to achieve.

Pet peeve alert:

In my church, we attach a “Brother” or “Sister” before the last name. Basically, we teach the youth to call their leaders by the formal, “Sister so and so” and that is all good. It gets a little more tricky with adults. I usually introduce myself as “Sister Ross” when I telephone somebody on church business. However, at a party or at the grocery store, I’ll call people from church by their first name and expect to hear my own name, too.

I have a growing pet peeve about this expected dichotomy in terms. To others, I am almost ALWAYS “Sister Ross,” whether I’m at the pool, the park, or the zoo.

I walk down the hall and someone says, “Hi, Richard; Hi, Sister Ross.” (Why does he get to be Richard and I have to be Sister Ross?)

On the phone someone will say, “Hi, Sister Ross, this is Jared.” (Hey, no fair using your first name and my church name!)

Yesterday at church, they announced the people in a musical selection, “Today we’ll hear a song from Tina Toocute, Wendy Winsome, and Sister Ross.” (I do NOT wear a bun and a cameo brooch to church. Why can’t I be Angela?)

Richard says it’s my own fault for being formal from the start. Once people hear me refer to myself as Sister Ross, that’s it. Someone once said that I live like I’m in a Jane Austen novel. Apparently I have a perception problem. People are just responding to my formal, archaic persona or they just don’t know my name.

Dear friends,

I don't live in Jane Austen's world.
I am learning to text. I have read Twilight.
It was so good. J/K LOL! If you call me Angela
or Angie now and then, I will not bristle.
I might actually give you a hug.

Thanks,
A

We’re stranded with no transportation today. There will be a lot of movie viewing and reading. There’s a heat advisory and we’ve been instructed to take it easy and drink a lot of water. And that means blogging. Apparently.

I am not prepared to play this on Sunday. I am in big trouble.

My white spray paint is jammed. My birds are not finished.

And then there is the dust. We can’t keep up.

After two years I still haven’t found the courage to add to Care’s masterpiece for my grandma. And the family keeps growing… more names…aaack! I spent an hour in the middle of the night thinking about it.

There are school books to unwrap and lesson plans to make.

And then there is this painting. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I KNOW Ray is not that color. I KNOW his hand doesn’t look like that. I KNOW the background stinks. And Ray’s smile isn’t right. Sigh.

 

Temperatures are high and I can’t seem to help Mark stop fighting. Summer is not my favorite time. I lack a FUN gene, I think.

Most mornings this month I awake to find the kids already up and well-entrenched in activities. Daniel has usually read 200 pages, walked the dog, and helped install 50 brick pavers across the street before I emerge. Pretty much. Books and magazines are popular around here before breakfast. I am enjoying the summer ritual of sleeping in, although I know that this must end. Early mornings in Arizona are the only time to get anything done.

This weekend I was just so ineffective.

But I think the upcoming week should hold some adventures. We will go birding; we’ll step foot into Mexico for a special event for a friend. We’ll swim and we’ll read and dance and build things. I will hang our Chinese lanterns out on the patio and sit outside at least one evening. We’ll pray for rain because Arizona is on fire. Join us. We can use the prayers. They canceled Girls Camp and Scout Camp because the mountains are one big tinderbox.

I hope you have a good week.