The Battle of the Bulge

A few months ago I went to the doctor for a physical.  I put as much thought and preparation into this appointment as I did for a family vacation.  Just like for our vacations, a couple of weeks beforehand, I started going through my wardrobe to find the perfect outfit.  I was positive that the right clothing choice would start this visit off on the right foot.

My nemesis

The perfect clothing items were not chosen for design, color, fit, or which accessories could be worn with them. No, function far outweighed form for this visit.  This was important and I knew I had to make a strong impression.

When the day of my appointment arrived, I dressed with great attention to detail.  My appearance had been carefully planned down to the most finite detail.

As the nurse called me back, I went through the checklist in my head to make sure I hadn't missed anything:

Lightest weight clothing - check.
Remove all undergarments - check.
No unnecessary use of hair products or makeup - check.
All rings and necklaces removed - check.
Bathroom - check.
Slip off shoes - check.
No food or water consumed since the night before - check.

And with all of the items on my list checked off, I stepped on
the doctor's scale.............. and had lost precisely 1 pound since last year. 

"I did it!" I exclaimed.

With a raised eyebrow, the nurse led me to an exam room while I thanked everyone who helped me achieve this great and wondrous accomplishment.  My victory speech was so poignant, it was worthy of an Academy Award.

I was sitting on the doctor's examining table when she came in.  I held my breath as she perused the vital statistics the nurse had written down.  Anxiously I waited for the pat on the back and exclamations of a job well done.

She looked up from the paperwork, "Last year we discussed your weight and why it's important for you to lose 15 pounds."

I smiled broadly as I replied "Yes!  And look! I lost 1 pound!"

With a look of disapproval she said "Last year you wore sweats.  This year you have on a bikini.  The only thing you lost was some cotton fiber.  Have you been exercising?".

"Does walking to the refrigerator and pantry count? I have walked through the grocery store!" I offered.

"The refrigerator and pantry only count if you didn't get anything out to eat.  How many days a week did you walk through the grocery store?  Was it a grocery 'super store' or a 7-eleven?" she replied.

She knew me too well.  "Does walking to get the newspaper count?" I questioned.
"Is it in your driveway?", she asked.
"Yes." I replied.
"No." she said.

"I have to take the dog out several times a day." I offered.
"Do you take the dog for a walk or just open the back door to the house and let it out?", she queried.

"Hmmm...... I thought about swimming laps at the natatorium." I said.
"How many laps did you swim?" she asked.

"Ummm........ what about chewing?  Chewing uses muscles so shouldn't that count as exercise?" I replied.

The doctor handed me a packet of information on calorie counting, a list of websites for reduced calorie recipes, a food pyramid chart, and another chart which listed how many calories are burned doing different forms of exercise.

"Pick from the activities and do it 5 days a week. You need to lose 15 real pounds by your next yearly physical." she ordered.

After looking at the list of exercises and the short list of edible foods on the diet, maybe for my next physical I'll cut my hair short and see if that will help me lose some real pounds.

Written by Christie Bielss

Then and Now

Sitting on the sofa one night, I looked back at the day I'd just had versus the life my husband and I led before having children.  Our life before kids was filled with fun parties, I could shop with my girlfriends all day with no problem, saw movies on opening day, had romantic dinners with candle light and table cloths, was able to accomplish the things on my "to do" list in one day, spent all day reading a book cover-to-cover without interruption, and indulged myself in mani/pedis, facials, massages, and long soaks in the bathtub with my favorite scented candles.

Before kids, sort of.  I was pregnant in this photo

Those were the days when I vacuumed the house and it stayed clean for an entire week.  Picking up the house simply meant putting my husband's shoes in the closet.  Doing laundry was accomplished in just a few hours from start to finish.

Not much has changed since we've had children.  We still go to parties, they just happen to have a Disney character as the theme and doing the limbo requires you beginning on your knees due to the pint-sized holders of the limbo bar.

I still go shopping all day, grocery shopping that is.  That's because it takes hitting three grocery stores to find the one package of my children's favorite flavored snack crackers.  With those crackers on-hand, the earth can continue to spin.

We see movies on opening day, the opening day they come out on DVD.

Romantic dinners are meals where no one spills their milk, drops their plate of food on the floor, or passes gas.

If I'm able to accomplish one thing on my "to do" list, then I consider that a successful day.  If I can accomplish two things on my "to do" list, I feel like I am the queen of organization.  If I can accomplish three or more things on that blasted "to do" list....... who am I kidding? That never happens.

I still read lots of books.  Though these days, instead of reading a romantic comedy to myself, my daughter reads "Dork Diaries" or "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" out loud to me.

Long soaks in the bathtub have changed a bit.  They usually begin with me submerging my arms in my son's fish tank to scrape the algae from the tank's walls and end with vacuuming the uneaten fish food and scum from the decorative rocks on the bottom.  Not quite as relaxing but at least the fish tank has a heater to keep the water at a comfortable temperature.

Yes, I still get mani/pedis. They are happily performed by both of my children.  The nail polish may cover my fingers or toes halfway to my knuckles and each one may be a different color, but I am pampered in a way that can only come from the heart.

We only bought 1 pair of purple socks and we are up to a pair and a half

Laundry, however, has become my nemesis.  I am pretty sure when my kids throw their dirty clothes in the hamper, the clothing breeds.  This was confirmed the other day when my daughter was putting her freshly laundered clothes in the closet and exclaimed "Mom?  I don't remember these jeans.  Where did they come from?".  I'm pretty sure this out-of-control breeding situation began when we started pairing up the socks to keep them from getting eaten by the dryer........

Looking back, yes, life is far different than it was years ago.  And yet I wouldn't change a thing........... ok, maybe I'd change pairing the socks up in the hamper.

Worst haircut of my life but I still love this photo

Written by Christie Bielss

Who Is Your Hero?

My daughter came home from school a month or so ago and asked me a very interesting question "Who do you consider your hero?  And don't go for the easy answer, Mom.".  My first answer being all of our military and their families, as well as police and firemen, was nixed by the ten year old playing the college professor.  Judging by the serious countenance on my child's face, I guessed that Superman, Batman, and Spiderman, would be swiftly nixed as well.

My Hero

It was a simply worded question and yet it made me stop and think.  I know who my hero is, but can I adequately put into words what is in my heart?  I'm not sure, but I've decided to give it a go.

He was a spunky kid who would climb to the top of the highest object just so he could imagine himself flying.  Sometimes that meant he was climbing to the top of the telephone pole, nearly causing his mother heart failure.  And sometimes that spunk had him trying to coerce neighbor kids to put their tongues on the cistern pump handle in the bitter cold, much to his parents' chagrin.

He played sports in high school and according to his accounts, rode his bike through the mountains of West (by God) Virginia to school every single day.  Uphill...... both ways.  Through 6 feet of snow.  With a tenor saxophone on his bike's handle bars.  

High School Graduation

He joined the ROTC in college and, upon graduation, became a commissioned officer in the United States Air Force as a fighter pilot.  While he was stationed in Alabama going through training and "getting jets", he met a lovely young woman on base.  He attracted her because of his baby blue '59 Buick convertible and she attracted him with her cute looks and figure.  They were married 6 weeks later.  

The infamous '59 Baby Blue Buick Convertible

Within a few months of marriage, the newlyweds were stationed overseas with the 81st Tactical Fighter Wing at RAF Bentwaters, England.  He gave selflessly of himself to his country while he buried a number of his fighter pilot friends who crashed their fighter jets, including his best friend, while in service to their country.

One day in October of 1962, with Air Force base sirens sounding in the background, he called his wife and quickly informed her that the base had been put on full alert.  His fighter jet was loaded with bombs and he'd be sitting on the runway waiting for the green light to go and defend his country.

While he had enough fuel to get to his destination and do what his government commanded of him, he did not have enough fuel to get to safety, back to his base, or even to an area of land.  This was his farewell to her and their 2 young sons.

For nearly 2 weeks, he sat in his fighter jet at the end of the runway on full alert.  The jet engines were on and ready for take-off, the plane was fully loaded with bombs, just awaiting the go-ahead command from the big brass.  Thankfully the situation (the Cuban Missile Crisis) was resolved without him having to perform what would have been a suicide mission.

In 1963, his squadron's command was taken over by the indomitable Colonel (and later General) Robin Olds, who brought with him Colonel Daniel "Chappie" James, Jr. (who would later go on to become the first African American 4-star General in the Air Force).  The stories from this era are too numerous to write about in one blog post but suffice it to say that while there were a lot of missions flown during this time, as were as a lot of parties attended.

As a result of those parties, this hero came back to the United States with his lovely wife....... and 3 bouncing baby boys, each born less than a year apart.

Stationed at Reese Air Force base in Lubbock, Texas, this man began training young fighter pilots.  One of the parts of his duties left an indelible impression upon his heart.  That job was informing next of kin (wives) of the death of their fighter pilot spouse.

There are no words suitable to ever describe how terribly heartbreaking and life-changing this part of his job was.  To this day, he remembers each spouse's reaction upon seeing him walk up to their home or place of work.

While at Reese AFB, he was asked to join the prestigious USAF Thunderbirds.  It is a tremendous honor to be asked to join this elite fighter jet show team but, upon learning they were gone for most of the year, he declined.  Seeing his wife and 4 children took precedence over the fun he would of surely had performing breathtaking mid-air stunts.

He left the USAF in 1967 with a wife and 4 young children.  Yes, there was another party after they arrived in Lubbock, TX, which yielded him a daughter. Upon leaving the USAF, he went to work for a commercial airline as a pilot.



1st Officer

He and his family were stationed in Buffalo, New York.  The commercial airline pilot pay wasn't enough to support his family, so when he wasn't flying airplanes, he was substitute teaching to help supplement his income.  While there wasn't enough money to take his family out to dinner and to the movies, he created wonderful memories for his children by digging caves in the mountainous snow and having epic snowball fights.  

As his children grew, he was a beacon to them for doing what was right, not necessarily what was easy.  Even though he would be gone flying commercial jets for many days each month, which resulted in him missing many a birthday and holiday because of his flight schedule, his wife and children knew how much he loved them and they found creative ways to celebrate those days.

He was required to retire from piloting commercial airplanes in the United States at the age of 60.  Having flown most of his life, the transition to staying home every day out of the month was interesting for both he and his wife.  He was used to doing his own thing, and so was she, but they adapted.

His focus changed from studying airplane manuals and flight standards, to working on his golf handicap, doting on his grandchildren, and traveling around the world with his wife.

Today is this hero's 80th birthday.  Today I celebrate this man and all he has accomplished and all of the love he has so selflessly poured out onto those around him.  Today I celebrate my hero, my Dad.  Happy 80th birthday!  I love you more than there are stars in the sky and grains of sand upon this earth!

Written by Christie Bielss

The Miraculous Intervention

Happy New Year!  After encouragement from both friends and family, I have decided to share a very personal experience to start off the new year.

Our home in Alabama

It was Halloween 2001. I was 7 months pregnant with our son and we had moved to Alabama a couple of months prior. The evening of Halloween, we went to a friend's house for a costume party. As we were walking in to our friend's home, we noticed that a weather front had moved in and the usual warm, humid Alabama night was turning unusually cold.

We were having a great time at the party until I started having a hard time with acid reflux due to my pregnancy.  We left the party and arrived home around midnight. 

When we relocated to Alabama, we purchased a newly constructed home and had the home inspected for defects prior to closing.  The inspection report had come back with a few very minor issues, which the builder quickly rectified.

When we walked in the door to our home that evening, my husband found the house a bit chilly.  He asked me to turn on the home's heat while he went and tried to remove the black and white paint from his face and hands, where we had transformed him into a skeleton for the party.

While he took a shower to remove the paint, I went and laid down on the sofa in the family room with our dog.

Pregnancy induced acid reflux required me to sleep sitting nearly upright while cool air helped to calm some of the nausea I experienced.  I put an oscillating fan next to the couch, where it would blow the air straight where I was reclining and cranked it up to hurricane force.

Exhausted from both the reflux and being pregnant with a child who was either going to be a world-class soccer player or a renowned kicker for the NFL, I drifted off to sleep within a minute or two.  A little while later my clean faced husband came in, checked on me and went off to bed.

I fell back to sleep almost instantly.  I was in a deep sleep when I started to hear someone speaking to me in a very sweet feminine and quiet voice.  "Wake up, Christie.", she said ever so gently.

In my sleep, I ignored the voice.  But the soft voice continued to gently nudge me "Honey, wake up.  It's time to wake up.".

I recognized the voice.  It was the voice of my father's mother, who had passed 20 years before.  She had been a slip of a woman with a soft voice and a gentle, nurturing, Christ-like nature.

In my sleep I argued with her.  "No, I'm tired.  I don't want to wake up.  This baby is wearing me out and I'm finally getting some sleep.  I'm not going to wake up.  I'm going to sleep.".

She again spoke ever so softly while gently nagging me, "Honey, you need to wake up.  Please wake up.".

I said again "No, I'm tired.  I need sleep.  Please stop and leave me alo.....".

And before I could finish my sentence "CHRISTIE LYNN!  You wake up NOW!!".

There was no mistaking the voice yelling at me!  That was my other grandmother, my mother's mother who had passed away just over a year prior.  She may have been diminutive in height, but she made up for it in attitude.  My red hair came from her and you did not mess with her.  It was also in that moment when I realized all 4 of my grandparents were in my dream although my grandfathers didn't speak, I could feel their presence.

At my grandmother's yelled command, I woke up in an instant.  I was immediately bombarded with the rotten egg smell of natural gas.  I hopped off the couch and ran to my bedroom to wake up my husband.

With a lot of nudging and jiggling, he woke up.  I told him the house smelled like natural gas.  He sat up on the side of the bed and told me to turn off the heater at the thermostat.  I flew to the thermostat and before I could flip the switch to the "off" position, a thought popped into my head that if the thermostat threw a spark, we could be blown sky high.

I decided against flipping the switch and ran back to our bedroom where I discovered my husband was again fast asleep.  I pushed and nudged him to wake him up.  He didn't move.  Scared that carbon monoxide may be poisoning him, I shook him very hard to wake him up.

He woke up just enough to tell me to call the fire department.  I told him to get up and put some street clothes on while I made the call.

I quickly walked to the kitchen's cordless wall phone.  As I reached for the phone to dial 911, my hand was physically stopped by an unseen force, while in that same instant my entire sight was filled with a movie-like vision of a house exploding.

I dropped my hand and backed away from the phone.  That's when I saw my purse sitting on the counter.  I can use my cell phone!

I grabbed my cell phone from my purse but before I flipped it open to dial, something stopped me.  I looked up and saw the door to our backyard and the thought came to me that it would be safer to make the call outside in the fresh (albeit cold) air.

I called 911 and told the operator I wasn't sure if this qualified as an emergency but that our house smelled like gas after having turned on the heater.  She asked if I wanted her to send the fire department and I hemmed and hawed around for a few seconds until she urged me to give her our home address and to let the firemen check things out.

I agreed, gave her the information, and realized my husband was still inside the house.  I quickly went back inside and discovered him back under the covers in bed.  I jiggled, I nudged, and I started pushing him so hard he was bouncing on the bed.  He was not waking up and my heart was in my throat.

I leaned down and literally screamed in his ear (much like my grandmother had done to me just a few minutes earlier) to wake up.  He woke up just enough that I was able to get him to sit up on the side of the bed and helped him put on some sweats and sneakers.  I told him the fire department was on their way and we needed to get out of the house.

Just as I finished tying his shoe, the fire truck was coming down the street with their lights and siren going.

My husband looked at me quite puzzled and it became apparent he wasn't coherent.  He'd only had a couple of beers at the party, so I knew this wasn't alcohol related and yet I couldn't get him up off the bed.  Every time I'd get him sitting up, he'd start to pass back out.

Not being able to get him up, I ran out front to meet the fire engine.  They were greeted by a disheveled pregnant woman running toward the fire engine.  The doors of the cab opened and firemen were stepping out as soon as the engine had come to a complete stop. 

Without even thinking I said "The house is filled with gas.  I flipped the thermostat to heat and something must've gone wrong!  I can't get my husband up and out of the house!".

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the firemen asked where my husband was located in the house.  In the blink of an eye they were inside our home.  Within seconds they'd helped my husband out of the house and had him sitting on the curb as the rest of the crew flung open the windows to our house.

In the cold early morning air, my husband began to "awaken".  The firemen asked if we wanted an ambulance, but my husband declined.  They advised for both of us to call our doctor, as well as my obstetrician and let them know what happened.

Once the gas had cleared and the house was deemed safe, we were allowed to go back in.  The fire deparment had turned our thermostat off and we were told to leave the windows open so the gas could continue to escape over the course of the next few hours.

Around 4am the firemen left and I located our builder's phone number and left him a voicemail on his cell phone describing what had just transpired.  He called us back around 7am to inform us his ac/heating contractor was on his way and would be arriving at our house shortly.

Knowing that my mom's family had a very large presence in Alabama and word of this incident could make it back to them faster than the speed of light, I called my parents as soon as I got off the phone with the builder.  My dad picked up the phone after the first ring.

"Good morning dad.", I said.

"Are you alright?!  Is everything ok?!" were the first words out of his mouth.

I never call my parents at 7am, so I was sure it had freaked him out to get a call from me this early.

"We're ok.  We're fine.  We had an incident early this morning but like I said, we're ok."

"I knew something happened." he said.

"What do you mean?  How did you know?" I questioned.

"I woke up a little before 3am and immediately heard the Holy Spirit telling me to get on my knees and start praying for you both.  I was told to pray without ceasing because you were in grave danger." he replied.

When he told me that, I started crying and told him everything that had transpired, including what (or maybe I should say "who") had awakened me.  I told him I thought it was weird that while my grandfathers didn't speak, I knew they were there.

My dad told me he had been awakened from a very deep sleep around 2:30am and was hit with the prompting to pray.  Because it was the middle of the night and my mom was asleep, dad went into his closet (which is quite a sizable space), got on his knees and prayed until sometime after 6am when he felt the pressure to pray ease up and he fell into an exhausted slumber on the floor of their closet.

He woke up on the closet floor and was getting back into bed a few minutes prior to my phone call.  I thanked him profusely for praying for us because we had been in a bad situation and needed those prayers of protection.

When the ac/heating contractor arrived, we explained what happened and he immediately called the gas company and had them come out and shut off the gas to the house before he would check the system out.

He and the gas company's serviceman climbed into the attic together.  "Holy <bleep>!" they both exclaimed as soon as the front panel to the furnace had been removed.  Next thing we heard were the sounds of photos being taken and more exclamations of "Oh my God! How the <bleep> did this house not explode!".

The two men came down from the attic with looks of utter shock on their faces.  The contractor told us there was absolutely no explanation as to why our house had not exploded, along with at least half of our street.

The gas had poured into our house for 3 straight hours prior to me waking up. Our gas water heater sat next to the furnace and since my husband had taken a shower, the flame on the water heater would have come on at some point to reheat water as it refilled the water heater.

The water heater's flame should also have come on by itself to keep the water at a warm temperature sometime in those 3+ hours the gas was flowing in unchecked.  The flame should have ignited the gas and caused our home to explode, killing us and taking out a number of our neighbor's homes around us.

We were told the system had either been shipped missing a crucial part or it had been tampered with.  Either way, it should have spelled our death.

The contractor had to go out to his truck to get a replacement for the missing part and told us he was going to notify the builder and the city inspector of what he'd found.  We agreed that it was a good idea to make those calls.

One thing we knew with 100% certainty.  While our home inspector said he had checked the furnace, the system had never been inspected because it had never been initially fired up.  Our home inspector had taken a shortcut and lied about it and he very nearly cost us our lives.

The ac/heating contractor came back inside and told us that he'd spoken to both the builder and the city inspector and they wanted to know if it would be ok for them to come out the next morning so he could show them what he'd found.  He also asked if it would be ok if they brought some people with them to look at the system.  We agreed and the contractor went to work getting our system up and running.

My husband and I both went to the doctor that day and were checked out.  The doctor performed several tests and felt like my body had filtered out most of the bad stuff I had inhaled and our baby would just be sleepy for a day or two.

My husband also had some tests performed and was found to have no lingering toxins in his blood stream and was allowed to go home if he agreed to rest quietly for the remainder of the day.

I called my parents as soon as we got back from our doctor appointments to let them know we were officially ok.  My parents told me they had emailed their church pastor and he wanted to know if I would be willing to email him a detailed accounting of what had transpired so he could use it Sunday for his sermon celebrating All Saints' Day.  I agreed and sent the pastor an email detailing everything.

The next morning at precisely 9am, the ac/heating contractor showed up, along with an entourage.  The builder was present along with the city inspector, and they both had brought along additional people.

Included in this large group were city council members, the fire department's inspector, a technician and the head of quality control for the renowned manufacturer of our ac/heating system, the owner of the ac/heating contractor, the gas company, as well as a number of other people.  My family room was packed full of southern gentlemen trying to get answers.

The ac/heating contractor who had come out the day before took the men up into our attic in small groups and explained in detail what he'd found upon opening up the system.

Every single one of these gentlemen came back down from the attic in shock and disbelief.  With heavy southern drawls, they all said that we are living miracles and it was only by God's grace that our incident hadn't killed a whole lot of families and left a sizable hole in the ground where our house stood.

That Sunday, All Saints' Day, our story was shared with several thousand parishioners in attendance at all of my parents' Sunday church services, as well as with those who listened to the podcast in the days, weeks, months, and years afterwards.

It's been 13 years since that fateful night.  In those years, I have heard of a number of homes and people who have suffered or been lost due to incidents like we experienced.  Every time I hear about one of these incidents, part of me quakes in fear and the other part of me rejoices in how God worked so visibly in our life.

Every year when it's time to flip the thermostat from a/c to heat, I still pause to pray before I flip that switch.  I hold my breath until I hear the system's flame ignite and start burning the gas and I pay close attention to our carbon monoxide detectors.

In the years since this happened, I have questioned more times than I can count why we lived when so many others have perished.  I still don't have answers to my questions.  

One thing my family does know for sure is God is real, he is present, and he still does work miracles.  We are living examples of his miraculous works, his grace, and his love.

Written by Christie Bielss

The Grand Plan

I had it all planned out ahead of time. The weekend before Thanksgiving, my husband and son were to get all of the Christmas decorations down from the attic.  For once, my house was going to be that house where it was completely decorated and ready for the holidays by the time people were arguing over who gets to eat the turkey drumstick on Thanksgiving day.

In my mind I could see the beautiful Christmas tree in my front window, bright lights hung on the eaves of the house, and our Santa Claus yard sculpture lit up with a spotlight in the yard.  This year I even bought extra twinkle lights to string along the top of our fence.

Oh yes, my intentions were good and my hopes ran high.  Two weeks before Thanksgiving I sat my family down and explained the game plan. I wanted all  of the Christmas decorations brought down from the attic and for "Project Stun Santa" to commence.

"This year, we are going to be the house that's celebrating Thanksmas.  We aren't going to be the house where the boxes of Christmas decorations sit untouched in the living room until New Year's Day, when they are hauled back up into the attic.

No one will be complaining about stubbed toes from boxes sitting around helter-skelter or stockings not hung by the chimney with care.  For once, Santa isn't going to slide down the chimney, think we are moving and leave us packing paper and bubble wrap in our stockings.

No sir!  This year, Santa is going to be dazzled by our Christmas spirit and the amazing handcrafted decorations we replicate from "pins" we saw on Pinterest."

Oh what a grand plan!  And then........ life happened.  My husband got hurt and required surgery.  One kid came down with the flu, then another kid dropped to a tummy bug.  Then I came down with the flu.

The grand plan fell by the wayside and became the yearly pile of unopened plastic tubs full of Christmas decorations.  I think Santa finally figured out we aren't moving because this year he didn't leave packing paper and bubble wrap in our stockings........... he left Clorox sanitizing wipes and disinfecting spray.

Now, as I sit here with the new year staring me in the face, and new year's resolution ideas whirling around in my head, I have decided to make a New Year's Grand Plan.  I think I'll start with putting all of the Christmas decorations back in the attic......... it shouldn't take long since the only thing decorated is the tree.

Written by Christie Bielss

A Blast from the Past

I grew up in a time of bell-bottom pants, the peasant blouse, and the super-short hot pants. Wedge heels and gaucho pants were all the rage for the ladies. Men tottered around in platform shoes while wearing double knit polyester leisure suits. Yes, I grew up in the groovy 70s.

Photo courtesy of memecrunch.com

If a person wanted to look really hip and cool, he/she would carry a boombox on his/her shoulder while he/she strutted down the street to the beat of music from artists like The Village People, The Bee Gees, or Donna Summer.

Little did I know that shopping for a cell phone would take me back to those formative years.  Over the course of the past six months or so, the battery life on my cell phone has continued a downward spiral headed toward self-destruction.

In addition, my phone had been cutting out in the middle of conversations or other tasks that I was trying to perform (like playing on social media).  I didn't have enough storage space left to update to the newest operating system, which also started to cause major issues running apps on the phone.

Cutting a redhead off mid-sentence or crashing and losing everything in the middle of writing a blog post is dangerous to both man and machine.  The likelihood of this machine being smashed to bits with a hammer or run over by my car was becoming a very real possibility.

Even though the problems with my cell phone were driving me to the brink of insanity, I dreaded the idea of changing phones.  Even worse than the change of phones is the idea of having to go shopping for new technology.  Shopping for a cell phone ranks just below scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush on my list of enjoyable activities.  

But, the situation with my phone had become dire, so with an open mind and a pocketful of chocolate, I hit the stores.  I did decide to take my daughter with me so she could explain the latest technology at my level..... which is somewhere between the IBM Selectric typewriter and pencil/paper.

I told the salesman I would like a phone I could read without having to wear glasses.  Before I had time to blink, the salesman held up a Samsung Galaxy Note.  I smiled at him and told him it was very easy to read and it looked pretty, but I was really looking for a cell phone, not a tablet computer.

He looked at me as though I were daft and explained it is a cell phone "and so much more".  I pondered, apparently out loud, whether it would even fit in my handbag or if I'd have to switch to using a piece of rolling luggage just to carry it around.  The salesman rolled his eyes at this crazy middle-aged, unhip woman who was obviously over exaggerating.

Just as the salesman put the metal slab of a phone up to his ear, my daughter started to get a little wiggle as the store's intercom music started playing "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer .  With that 70's inspired ghetto blaster of a phone pressed to the salesman's ear, the only thing missing in this scene was John Travolta dressed in a white double-knit polyester leisure suit striking a pose.  Whoop-whoop!

I tried but fell far short of containing my snort of laughter.  Smiling, he said "I'm guessing you prefer something a little smaller."

"Why yes, I do believe something smaller would be nice.", I said. "Something I don't have to wear hip-huggers and a halter top with would be marvelous.  I don't really want to be the next viral social media meme captioned 'Granny's got groove'....."

Written by Christie Bielss

A Redheaded Perspective to the 30 Days of Thanksgiving

I am betting most of you have had at least one person in your social media group participate in the 30 days of Thanksgiving.  Last year I participated in the challenge but, by about day 15, I started having a hard time remembering to post, which was likely aided by having to think outside the box to find things to be thankful for when the easy stuff ran out.  That's not to say I'm not thankful for everything and everyone around me, it just became difficult to find things to post that didn't make me sound like I was giving it a half-hearted effort.

This year, instead of posting once a day for 30 days on my Facebook account, I have decided to post all of the small things for which I am thankful for and I am doing it all in one post.  I've always been told that you can't appreciate the big things in life if you don't stop to be thankful for all of the little things first. So this year, it's all about the little things.

1)  I am thankful for my children no longer feeling the need to issue a "brace yourself" warning to each other when we approach the car launch ramp, I mean exit, to our subdivision during rush hour.  My children have learned to make sure they have secured their belongings, tightened their seatbelts, and have a firm grip on one of the vehicle's grab bars.

2)  I am thankful our dog now recognizes the need to brace herself upon seeing us make our final approach to the car launch ramp.  After nearly 2 years of unsuccessfully using her claws to try to stay upright while looking out the car window as our vehicle moves quickly into an open space in the rush hour traffic, she now jumps down and lays on the floorboard of the car.  My children have decided she would rather not see what's happening and is bracing for impact.

3)  I am thankful for well-timed green lights.  There is nothing more beautiful than driving down a stretch of highway and have the signal lights all change to green as you approach.

4)  Milk Chocolate.  No further explanation necessary.

5)  Puffs Plus.  What is more gratifying than to be able to catch your child's sneeze and not have the tissue disintegrate in your hand upon impact.

6)  The scroll wheel on the mouse.  It is quite satisfying to be able to scroll up or down a computer screen faster than the speed of light.  I do think it would be neat if computer gurus could install a sonic boom noise which would automatically sound when you surpass a certain scrolling speed.

7)  Refrigerator magnets.  Those magnets hold special pieces of artwork, doctor's appointment reminders, and important school information, and they always take a backseat to everyone being thankful for toilet paper.

8)  Dark chocolate.  It's the healthy chocolate and therefore equates to eating a vegetable.

9)  Television and its accompanying electronic components.  "Barney's Super-Singing Circus" VHS tape played every 2-4 hours in my house for my son's first 4 years of life as he underwent nebulizer treatments for asthma.  That tape, while it caused the loss of a great many of my brain cells, was the only thing my son would sit still to watch while allowing a mask to be placed over his nose and mouth to receive the medication.  "Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy?!......"

10)  Window blinds and coverings.  I'm sure my neighbors appreciate our judicious use of our blinds and I know I appreciate theirs.

11)  Sunglasses.  While I'm out on sunny or bright days I get to feel like Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly.

12)  Semi-sweet chocolate.  3 words:  Toll House Cookies......

13)  Shopping carts.  Because having to lug a pack mule to the grocery store to carry my items would be even more difficult to load into my SUV than remembering to bring my reusable tote bags.

14)  String.  It can hold a Christmas tree onto the roof of a car, or prevent a car's bumper from dragging the ground.  It can also be in the form of yarn which can be knitted into a cap, socks, or that ugly Christmas sweater Aunt Marge knits for you every.single.year..

15)  Dish scrubbers.  Whether it be a brush, scrubbing sponge, or SOS pad, they just make life easier and, because they are disposable, usually get forgotten on these kinds of lists.

16)  Special dark chocolate.  In case you did not know, it goes well with wine.  You're welcome.

17)  The words "please" and "thank you", as well as "yes/no ma'am" and "yes/no sir".  Whether from an adult or a child, nothing is quite as pleasant as giving and receiving respect through our choice of words in both big and small acts of kindness.

18)  Ranch dressing.  Without this one small food product added to my children's vegetables when they were younger, they would have been carnivores.

19)  A lawn blower/vac.  This one crucial piece of lawn equipment has saved me from sweeping up the sidewalk for months on end, not to mention the reduction in the need to rake leaves in the fall since it vacuums them up directly into a bag.

20)  White chocolate.  It decorates strawberries beautifully when interwoven with milk chocolate.

21)  Potty-trained children and pets.  After having to change a diaper or clean up a pet accident on a rug, no further explanation is necessary.

22)  Staples, paper clips, and binder clips.  Without these essentials, we would all look like hoarders.

23)  Label makers.  Now when I cram things in storage containers, I actually know what is in there.  It has been a budget saver as well since I don't buy 15 of the exact same thing only to lose it somewhere in my house.

24)  Bittersweet chocolate.  Think chocolate raspberry cake with a dark truffle icing.  Every chocolate has a place among mankind.

25)  Toenail clippers with the under-the-nail gunk scraper. Really, whoever came up with the idea of this essential grooming tool was a genius.

26)  Vehicle turn signals...... especially when drivers actually use them.

27)  Erasers and correction tape.  I wish life mistakes could be removed as easily.

28)  Cocoa.  A cold winter's night, a fire in the fireplace, and a cup of hot cocoa.  Cocoa, another life necessity.

29)  Pooper scoopers.  The several feet of clean air space the long-handled scooper affords makes life much sweeter......... smelling.

30)  All of my family, friends, and readers who encourage and support me....... probably against their better judgement. 


Enjoy the crazy relatives and the guess-what-food-that-is-casserole at your family get-togethers.  Wishing you all a safe, joyous, and very happy Thanksgiving!

Written by Christie Bielss