The Old Times: Dress-Up and Play-Doh Barbershop

Last week, I headed to the Zimmerman household to watch 3 of the most adorable girls. Playing with them brought back some great memories of playing around the house with my brother when we were much younger, and I had so much fun.

The girls had received a new Play-Doh Doggy Doctor set. Tressa was very intensely treating the puppy's wounds, and the poor pooch seemed to have problems everywhere. I do declare, I've never seen a creature with more bandages than this!

Tressa was pretty much a band-aid factory there for over an hour. Just churning them out one by one.










In the meantime, Abi was busy with the Imagination Station, and she had opened up the bag of hats. She ran from the bedroom at least 25 times repeatedly yelling, "It's windy, Auntie Em! It's windy! It's windy, Auntie Em! It's windy!" There's no doubt she has been instructed by her mom and pop to wear a hat when it is cold outside, so in her make-believe world, she wanted to make sure I was protected. Tressa and Rian were given special protection too.

I have no idea how these bunny ears were going to block the wind for Rian, but she sure had a fun time wearing them and seemed ready for any stormy weather.

But no one was given more hats than I. Seems like Abi thinks my immune system is a little run down.

I miss the old days of taking an entire afternoon to pull out the Play-Doh Barbershop kit that Aaron and I used to love. There was the barbershop chair, the little people with tiny holes all over their head (scalp), and the tiny little plastic scissors used to give one a haircut. I miss the old days of spending hours dancing around with our white gloves and neon clothes in front of the black lights in our bedroom. My apologies to my brother. I know these types of memories can be a little embarrassing for a guy. But, they are wonderful memories to me. Of course, what isn't a wonderful memory is the amount of time it took and effort it took to take a little toothpick and pick out all of the little dots of Play-Doh out of the men and women's scalp after each time we played with the set. Maybe that's why it seems so special now. Because we played with it so infrequently because of all of the hard work it involved.

The smell of the Play-Doh brought back tons of memories, and playing with the girls is a wonderful break from the hustle and bustle of life. They sure make me smile.... even while trying to balance 7 hats on my head.

A Big Opportunity

As I wrote a couple a couple of weeks ago, things are really changing at our workplace. We were once part of a huge world-wide company, and we were recently purchased by a smaller company. We were quite shocked with the sale, and some employees became uneasy about the future. But, from all interactions with the new owners, this new adventure seems like it will be a very positive one.

I had stopped my job search so that I might reap some rewards of celebrating five years at the company. But, with the sale, I wondered if this might be the forced push for me to obtain more challenging and more rewarding and more creative job somewhere else. The thoughts that were swirling in other employees' heads were also swirling in mine. 'Maybe the new owners will think this position is not needed....' or even more discouraging, 'Maybe the new owners will not think I'm suitable to stay on staff for any new opportunities that might arise.'

Little did I know that I had somehow made an impression on them. In the midst of basement troubles, vacation days, being out sick, attending my cousin's funeral services and trying to keep my sanity, I made an impression, and it was a good one. Because, as the craziness of the previous weeks started to wind down, the owner called me into his office and asked if I would like to take on the challenge of leading the Human Resources efforts. I won't go into all of the details, but I was thrilled and surprised and happy. This was a long-awaited answer to prayer, and I said yes. YES YES YES! And, I am so very thankful for this opportunity to work hard - for this site, for the new owners with whom I'm extremely impressed, and my co-workers who I care for so very much.

Setting up all of the Human Resources details is a lot of hard work and will involve many late nights. I would very much appreciate your prayers during this time of the company transition, and I want to thank those of you who have been praying for me regarding my job all along. I'm sure hopeful for the future!

The Old Times: Rolling Odometers

You know what I miss? Rolling odometers. You know what I mean? The black and white kind which would move constantly to help you keep track of your mileage?

When Aaron and I were younger, Dad - from the driver's seat - would often make the announcement that we were approaching a special number on the odometer. And, Aaron and I would crowd around Dad's shoulders to try to get a glimpse of the dashboard. (This is before the days of mandatory car seats, mind you.) Mom would lean over too so to not miss out on the excitement. Now, that I think about it, that would have been a pretty funny sight if someone could have taken a picture of us... all of us leaning in to see those black and white number dials move ever so slowly.

So, Dad would let us know that we were approaching a big rollover. For instance, the odometer might read 23999... and the last dial would gradually move with every tenth of a mile. 4.... 5.... 6.... 7.... 8.... 9.... Then, it seemed so exciting to us to see all of those 9s move with that last tenth of a mile to read 24000. Or, we'd look forward to watching the odometer line up with several of the same numbers, such as 12222.

Even today, with our not-as-exciting digital odometers, I look forward to seeing those special numbers. Part of the thrill was gone, but it was still fun to watch a special number approach this week. And, I promise you, I was looking at the road the entire time this picture was taken. I have a bunch of blurry pictures and pictures which don't even contain the odometer to prove it.

Olives Stuffed With This Stuff

First of all, I've missed all of you bloggers and commenters.

Secondly, we had a discussion at church a week or two ago about pimento (or pimiento). Now, I know some of you are gourmet chefs, so please don't scold us for our ignorance. But, we didn't know exactly what pimento was. I had guessed it was some kind of red pepper and... it turns out that guess was correct.

From dictionary.com:
pi·mien·to [pi-myen-toh, pi-men-toh]
1. the ripe, red, mild-flavored fruit of the sweet or bell pepper, Capsicum annuum, used as a vegetable, relish, to stuff olives, etc.

Thirdly, I've REALLY missed all of you bloggers and commenters.

Remembering Sheila

Two weeks ago, I walked out of the Sacred Harp singing to head toward my car and turned on my phone to call my cousin Sheila. She had called the night before to check on me because she had heard that I was having some struggles with my basement. Water had seeped in several times in the two weeks before due to the pouring rain we've had in our area, and she was calling to comiserate because she too was dealing with the same ordeal in her house. As usual, her voicemail message was funny, and as usual, she ended the message with some encouraging words and an 'I love you.' When she called the night before, I wasn't able to reach the phone because I was in the basement working on the water problem.

The next day got away from me at work because of our company site being sold, and I planned to call Sheila on my way home from Sacred Harp. But, when I turned on my phone, the alert notified me that I had several messages. I listened to all of them - from various family members - which told me that Sheila had been rushed to the hospital that evening. As soon as I hung up from my voicemail, my cousin Bart called to tell me that Sheila had just passed away unexpectedly from heart complications.

Sheila with Bart and Mary at Grandpa's 98th birthday party.

I can't explain the shock I felt. Sheila and I have always been very close. My dad and mom have always been very close to her, too. In fact, they named me after her, so her middle name Denise is my middle name.

Some of my earliest memories are memories of doing things with Sheila. When Mom and Dad worked for some in-home sales companies and they needed to attend conventions, Sheila would always come along to babysit. We'd explore the area or play in the pool, or she'd teach us songs and poems. We used to sing "Miss Molly Had A Dolly" over and over and over, and I loved watching Sheila act out the song. She loved small children, and she ran a daycare business within her home until her passing. She would go on and on and on about each child as if each were her own, and she was so proud of them.

Sheila made several dolls for me through the years, and one even had a homemade fur coat and mittens. She went to the trouble of refurbishing a cherished doll, Susie, for my graduation, and I couldn't believe it. Sheila was always doing nice things like that.... sending a note, sending me a pansy figurine to add to my collection, or sending some Valentine's Day cookies. She had just done that the week before.

Sheila was so fun, and when there was fun to be had, I knew I always had a partner at the family events that would jump right in with me. It didn't matter how crazy it was. We'd talk and talk, and we'd laugh and laugh. But, then, when I needed someone to really listen and understand, she'd do that too and pray for me. She gave great hugs, and she wasn't afraid to say 'I love you' - both when times were tough and when I was up to something mischievous that she could really appreciate.

Sheila with Mom at Kayla's graduation party.

I can hear her voice saying, "Ohhh, Rog" or "Ohhh, Dennie" when my uncle or dad were doing something funny. But, my favorite was when she looked at her husband and said "Ohhh, David" when he was kidding her. That happened so often when I would visit Sheila and David. I remember always sitting in the backseat and leaning forward to watch them joke with each other while holding hands. It seemed they were almost always holding hands, and I loved that.

Sometimes, Sheila would say all of the "practicing" on Aaron and me in our younger years was really just preparation for her two daughters. She loved Brittany and Kayla so very much. VERY MUCH! That was for sure, and she protected them like a mother hen. When I teased her for being overprotective, she explained the girls were her babies, and the 3 of them were the best of friends. Since Kayla has moved down here to Edwardsville, their family has visited many times in the past year, and those are some special times for which I am very thankful.

It was several years ago when Sheila came to me and told me she'd just read an article about not waiting in life to celebrate. She said the story had made her think about our grandpa - whose 94th birthday was approaching - and wondered what I thought about having a party this year instead of waiting until his 95th to have one. So, Sheila and I moved forward with plans. It turned out to be a BIG party with all of the extended family invited to attend. But, that year and in the years after, some people have been mixed up at what birthday Grandpa was celebrating. They were sure that first big party HAD to be his 95th. 'Why would anyone have a big party for a 94th birthday??' I vividly remember standing in front of my family - while crying, of course - trying to explain why we decided to have a party that year. It was Sheila's idea and Sheila's hope that we would not put off celebrating and spending time and expressing our love to our loved ones because we didn't know how long we'd have to spend with each other here on earth. And, I vividly remember trying to put all of that into words while looking across the park pavilion into her crying eyes that day. What a wonderful memory and a wonderful lesson she gave me that year... along with so many others.

It has been hard to realize she is gone. In fact, even at her own funeral, something funny happened, and my initial thought was that I needed to go find Sheila to tell her about it because she'd get a kick out of it. It was quite a shock when I came to my senses. It just didn't feel right for the family to be together with her not being there because she was ALWAYS there when we had a family event. I know there will be so many more of those times of missing her in the future, and that's very difficult to think about. But, oh, what a wonderful time I've had with her thus far and what a wonderful time I've had recounting the memories. And, I imagine the experience she's having in heaven with our Lord, and, through the tears, I can't help but smile... just like I did every time I was with Sheila.