Living in this tiny, isolated town, we don't have a Goodwill or a thrift store to visit. So Buy and Sell facebook groups have become popular. Today we sold something on one of these groups. I had no idea who it was that bought the item. I recognized the name, but didn't know her.
I called her number to set up a time for pick-up. An older man answered.
I said, "Hi. I'm calling for Pam."
Unknown man: "Yes you are." Huh?
Me: "I'm just calling about the-"
Unknown man: "I know." Okay...
Me: "Oh. I guess you know everything."
Unknown man: "No. I'm reading your mind." (Heh. Heh. Creepy.) "I'm leaving to pick it up at your house right away."
Me: "Okay. So I guess you know where I live?" (That was my attempt at a joke.)
Unknown man: "Yep! In Jake's old house!"
Isn't that a little weird? Then when he arrived he greeted me in what I think was Pennsylvania Dutch.
This kind of thing has happened countless times. It actually makes me smile. A feel just a bit creeped out.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Happy Birthday, Lydia!
I cannot believe that just a year ago I was sitting in my hospital bed, stunned and awed by what had just transpired. This baby girl, only 5 1/2 pounds.
The past year has been so good. I thought there would be days when we would ask ourselves, "What have we done? It was so easy before!" We acknowledge that life was easier a year ago, but there have been no regrets. Lydia has brought our family so much joy. There are days when I just sit there and smile as I watch her. I just feel so happy to have her in our family.
The past couple days have taken me back to all that happened a year ago. Lydia came into the world with a great deal of drama. She was a miracle. But then again, I am awed by what a miracle each new life is.
Psalm 22:9-10 "Yet you brought me safely from my mother's womb and led me to trust you at my mother's breast. I was thrust into your arms at my birth. You have been my God from the moment I was born."
Ever since Aunt Cathy gave me a teddy bear mold, I have the tradition of terrorizing my kids on their first birthday. The cake looks so cute in the picture. I copy the picture, really...but the teddy bear always ends up looking scary.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
A Sorrowful Tale
Where oh where do I begin this sorrowful tale...
I'll start here:
That was cinnamon roll disaster #3, by the way.
Our youth group is having a bake sale on Saturday. I need to contribute. You have to understand that baking is not a natural activity for me. I'm not ashamed tobrag say that I make delicious cinnamon rolls. But it is not second nature for me and it is a big day in the Hochstedler household when the cinnamon rolls come out of the oven.
Last week I had a beautiful batch of cinnamon rolls risen and was ready to turn on the oven. Then the hydro (that's what we call electricity) went out. What?! I called Kendall. "Oh yeah," he said, "There was a scheduled power outage planned." I may have ranted and raved. He suggested I run the risen rolls to someone else's house to bake. Well, Lydia had just gone down for a nap and our closest neighbors also had a power outage. I called a couple people to get advice. Unfortunately, no matter how you look at it, over-risen rolls just fail. It took me awhile to get over that one.
So I was going to bake yesterday. Glenda even lent me her Bosch so that I could do more than 3 pans at a time. Well, yesterday I woke up sick enough to die. (Not really, but I nearly passed out when I first got out of bed and depending how I would have fallen, I could have hit my head just right and...you know...) I wasn't surprised that I was sick, since I felt it coming on and the boys both came home from school the day before with stomach aches. Kendall stayed home from work and I slept. A lot. I let go of the baking idea. Until last night. The baking was nagging at me. I had a few things in the freezer from last week, but not enough. So last night I did a batch. Like always, it was more work than I planned. But there were 7 beautiful pans of rolls.
This morning, Kendall was in the kitchen first. He came and very kindly warned me, "I think you're going to be disappointed when you see the rolls." I was. Every single pan had fallen! Under-baked!
So today the boys are home sick and Lydia seems to be feeling under the weather too. I feel much better, but still not so great. I was considering letting the cinnamon rolls go. I even got some very kind motherly advice from one of the 5 or so people who were unfortunate enough to call or run in to me today. (I say they were unfortunate because I took every possible opportunity to unabashedly unload my sorrowful tale, a.k.a. complain.) This friend advised me to let go of the cinnamon rolls if my kids and I weren't feeling well. I appreciated her advice and considered taking it. I laid down for a nap when Lydia did, but couldn't sleep. So what did I do? I got up and started a batch of cinnamon rolls.
Hahahahahahahahahaha! (maniacal laughter) (Evan just looked over my shoulder and kindly suggested, "Mom, I think there has to be spaces between the ha ha's." No, not this kind of laughter. I demonstrated maniacal laughter and he was convinced. Or scared into silence.)
Bad idea! Listen to your elders! 19 pans of failed cinnamon rolls! All from the person who barely gets 19 pans of rolls baked in an entire year!
I laughed and laughed. I may have yelled too. Something like, "I want my mom! Or my mother-in-law! Heeeeelllllpppp!" Lydia thought it was great fun and added her little yell with her arm waving around.
Evan has been trying to be very kind and helpful to his maniacal mother. He said, "You'll just use the rolls you can and then leave it, right?" and "I think if you bake more, you should do something other than cinnamon rolls." Then he asked, "Can I make cookies now?" I can't remember for sure, but I think I said something about killing anyone who talks about baking.
I'll start here:
That was cinnamon roll disaster #3, by the way.
Our youth group is having a bake sale on Saturday. I need to contribute. You have to understand that baking is not a natural activity for me. I'm not ashamed to
Last week I had a beautiful batch of cinnamon rolls risen and was ready to turn on the oven. Then the hydro (that's what we call electricity) went out. What?! I called Kendall. "Oh yeah," he said, "There was a scheduled power outage planned." I may have ranted and raved. He suggested I run the risen rolls to someone else's house to bake. Well, Lydia had just gone down for a nap and our closest neighbors also had a power outage. I called a couple people to get advice. Unfortunately, no matter how you look at it, over-risen rolls just fail. It took me awhile to get over that one.
So I was going to bake yesterday. Glenda even lent me her Bosch so that I could do more than 3 pans at a time. Well, yesterday I woke up sick enough to die. (Not really, but I nearly passed out when I first got out of bed and depending how I would have fallen, I could have hit my head just right and...you know...) I wasn't surprised that I was sick, since I felt it coming on and the boys both came home from school the day before with stomach aches. Kendall stayed home from work and I slept. A lot. I let go of the baking idea. Until last night. The baking was nagging at me. I had a few things in the freezer from last week, but not enough. So last night I did a batch. Like always, it was more work than I planned. But there were 7 beautiful pans of rolls.
This morning, Kendall was in the kitchen first. He came and very kindly warned me, "I think you're going to be disappointed when you see the rolls." I was. Every single pan had fallen! Under-baked!
So today the boys are home sick and Lydia seems to be feeling under the weather too. I feel much better, but still not so great. I was considering letting the cinnamon rolls go. I even got some very kind motherly advice from one of the 5 or so people who were unfortunate enough to call or run in to me today. (I say they were unfortunate because I took every possible opportunity to unabashedly unload my sorrowful tale, a.k.a. complain.) This friend advised me to let go of the cinnamon rolls if my kids and I weren't feeling well. I appreciated her advice and considered taking it. I laid down for a nap when Lydia did, but couldn't sleep. So what did I do? I got up and started a batch of cinnamon rolls.
Hahahahahahahahahaha! (maniacal laughter) (Evan just looked over my shoulder and kindly suggested, "Mom, I think there has to be spaces between the ha ha's." No, not this kind of laughter. I demonstrated maniacal laughter and he was convinced. Or scared into silence.)
Bad idea! Listen to your elders! 19 pans of failed cinnamon rolls! All from the person who barely gets 19 pans of rolls baked in an entire year!
I laughed and laughed. I may have yelled too. Something like, "I want my mom! Or my mother-in-law! Heeeeelllllpppp!" Lydia thought it was great fun and added her little yell with her arm waving around.
Evan has been trying to be very kind and helpful to his maniacal mother. He said, "You'll just use the rolls you can and then leave it, right?" and "I think if you bake more, you should do something other than cinnamon rolls." Then he asked, "Can I make cookies now?" I can't remember for sure, but I think I said something about killing anyone who talks about baking.
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