All posts by dscales24

I am a wife, mother, and grandmother who enjoys sharing life experiences through writing short, lighthearted articles. These are intended to entertain, inspire, motivate, and inform my readers. I hope to receive responses in which readers tell me if they relate to the articles and share with me ideas that my writings generated in them.


My sister Pam teaches fourth grade in Mountain Home, Arkansas. Last month one of her students was killed in a car accident. The days following the little girl’s death were horrible ones for my sister and her other students. Sadness permeated everything they did, and children often broke into tears. I talked to Pam a few days ago, and she says they still miss the little girl terribly and have times of sadness, but they are doing better.

On Sunday evening, March 19, 1995, my dad went to bed as usual. As far as anyone knows, he never awoke. My mother found him dead beside her the next morning. Her soul mate of over 40 years was gone, and nothing in her life has been exactly the same since. Many years later she still thinks of and misses my dad every single day, but time has eased her grief. She is better now than she was.

In this world where people are determined to have the best, I am thankful for “better.” Sometimes that is as good as it gets. Since the day Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden, some really important elements of life on earth have been corrupted. The effects of sin, disease, and calamity are visited upon everyone. Relationships are damaged, plans are disrupted, and dreams are destroyed every day. We live lives of frustration and disappointment when, determined to achieve best, we fail to appreciate better.

Right now, I am dissatisfied with the condition of the flowerbeds I worked so hard to cultivate last year. A pile of wrinkled clothes is stacked atop my ironing board. I weigh more than I should, my house is not as clean as it could be, my car needs to be washed and vacuumed, I am late in preparing a Bible class lesson, I need to balance two checkbooks, my cat is dying, my kids’ lives are in a state of flux, my husband is exhausted from working a job that gives him little satisfaction, many of the people I love live 500 miles away from me, and I have a new perm. How I wish I could remedy all these distressing situations instantly and completely, but I can’t.

What I can do is make a start on my flowerbeds and ironing; try consistently to eat less and move more; create time to tend to the house, car, lesson, and checkbooks; love on my old cat; encourage my husband and kids; maintain healthy, long-distance relationships with my family members in the South; and wait for my perm to grow out. I can’t make anything perfect, but I can make some things better. And with that, I must determine to be content.

Give it up, friend. You can’t fix the world. If you’re like me, you can’t even figure out which of your three remote controls is for the DVD player. Refuse to be a slave to some dream of perfection that you will never attain this side of Heaven. Learn to be content.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And wisdom to know the difference.

(This article was written in 2007.)




Effective Home Management

In addition to my Mom Hat, Wife Hat, Daughter Hat, Grandmother Hat, Sister Hat and Friend Hat, I am also forced to wear a hat that defines me as a Home Manager. At our house, I am the one whose responsibility it is to keep an up-to-date “social” calendar; to pay the bills and keep the checking account balanced; to maintain all medical, tax, warranty, insurance, investment and other household records; to keep the laundry and housework reasonably caught up; to buy, prepare, and serve most of the food; to keep track of and adequately “cover” all birthdays and other special occasions; and to do the 101 other things that I have forgotten to list here but routinely do.

In an effort to “Work Smarter, Not Harder,” I have tried to apply the following home management tactics.

  • I Make Lists. These include a shopping list, a to-do list, a list of all the passwords that I must remember but should not write down, a list of upcoming TV shows I want to DVR, a list of books I want to read, a list of people I need to call, a list of ideas I want to develop into articles, a list of gift ideas for friends and family members, a list of important information that our kids will need if their dad and I die, and a list of the changes that I need to make to all of the above lists. Of course, when I need to consult a particular list, I usually cannot find it. This means that I need to compose a “Where I Put My Lists” list.
  • I Utilize Self-Motivation Techniques. I find that I accomplish tasks more quickly if I use some form of self-motivation. For example, I tell myself that I am “not allowed” to play a computer game until my kitchen is completely cleaned. I will not lie down for a nap until the laundry is folded and put away. My problem with using such tactics is that most of the time, I am self-motivated to ignore them.
  • I Get Organized. Last week I decided that I would organize my chores by assigning them to specific days of the week. On Monday I would tackle “Bathrooms and Blinds.” On Tuesday I would “Dust and De-Clutter.” On Wednesday I would “Vacuum and . . . .” I couldn’t think of another V-task to complete on Wednesday. I needed to assign myself two tasks per day in order to get everything done, but I had hit a snag. The whole system fell apart on Wednesday.
  • I Practice Guilting and Shaming Myself into Action. I tell myself that other home managers do a better job than I do. They don’t need lists because they never forget anything. They don’t need to employ self-motivation tricks because they are natural self-starters. They don’t need to get organized because they were born organized. The words guilt and shame are not emotions with which they are familiar. This kind of thinking leads me to eat ice cream directly from the container. It does not lead to anything productive.

Thus, I am left to manage my home in the same way I have always managed my home, and that is by utilizing the Do It All in One Day Method. Moved by some unseen and indefinable force, on one day I will dust the entire house, file or otherwise “manage” every piece of paper I encounter, clean the bathrooms, change the sheets, vacuum all the floors, put away all clutter, sanitize the kitchen, wipe down window blinds, balance the checkbook, make necessary phone calls, mail some cards, shop for groceries, and blow through five loads of laundry. I will work until 11:00 p.m., and then, following my cleaning frenzy, fall into bed exhausted.

The next morning as I drag my aching body out of bed, I repent. I tell myself, “Girl, you need a plan. Make some lists. Use some self-motivation techniques. Get organized and assign your chores to specific days of the week. No home manager in her right mind does everything in one day. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“I hope there’s more mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

What Is It?

Most of us have an IT. Some of us have more than one. ITS job is to torment you. IT hangs over you like an ominous cloud and robs you of peace. IT tells you that IT can never be overcome or even managed. Above all else, IT demands to be hidden, because if ITS presence in your life were made known to other people, those people would reject you. IT is your enemy.

I don’t know what your specific IT is.  But I know what some of the biggest and worst ITS are. I have also learned a few things about handling ITS.

If IT is an addiction that you are working to overcome, keep working to overcome IT. If IT is a secret, a monster within you that you feed daily by letting IT eat your insides, reveal that monster to someone you trust. Monsters thrive in darkness but lose power when exposed to light.

If IT is a horrible injustice that has been done to you, know that some people in concentration camps have managed to hold onto hope and joy.  The abuser, not the abused, is the loser.

If IT is a terrible health diagnosis for you or one of your loved ones, know that we will all die sooner or later.  None of us who knows Jesus will die alone.

If IT is sin on your part, know that every single one of us is in IT up to our eyeballs.  Never doubt God’s willingness and eagerness to forgive IT.  Not only does God forgive, but the people who have truly learned to love are happy to forgive too because they realize how dependent they themselves are upon forgiveness.

If IT is just the drudgery and overwhelming fatigue of limping through life in this broken old world day after day while fighting demons within and without, KEEP LIMPING!  That is the best any of us can do.

I don’t care what IT is.  IT doesn’t change by one iota how God feels about you.  IT doesn’t invalidate all that you have lived your life to accomplish.  IT doesn’t define who you are.

And I know who you are–YOU ARE ME in a slightly different form.  I think the same way you think.  I feel the same way you feel.  I judge myself in the same way harsh way that you judge yourself.  I have been brought low by the same things that have brought you low.  We share the same fears, the same desires, the same disappointments, and the same undeserved self-contempt at times.

We are both stumbling and banging and clanging through this life in the same awkward way.  BUT, as long as we continue to stumble, bang, and clang along together, we’ll be okay.  For a certainty, we are all united in this “human race.” Some days you may have to carry me. Other days I will carry you.

Do you remember the beautiful image of the Special Olympics kids who all strained to win the race and break the tape at the finish line?  It seemed they would stop for nothing, until one of their own fell down,  Then they all stopped, lifted the injured one, and crossed the line together.  They all came in first.

Try your best not to go down, but if you do go down, don’t stay there. Let Jesus or one of his friends pick you up. Whatever you do, don’t let IT own you. IT isn’t worth it.

The Music of My Life

I can’t read sheet music, play any instrument or sing worth a lick but music has always been an important part of my life. Born in 1952, I recall my sweet mother singing to me the usual lullabies that all mothers sing to their babies, plus a few other songs specific to the era in which we lived. She sang Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. A kid’ll eat ivy too, wouldn’t you? Without interpretation the words sound like Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey. A kiddley divey too, wooden shoe, which is the actual title of the song (The Merry Macs, 1944). She also sang Chickery chick, cha-la, cha-la, check-a-la romey in a bananika bollika, wollika, can’t you see Chickery chick is me (Chickery Chick, Sammy Kaye, 1945). The 1940’s and 1950’s must have been the age of nonsensical lyrics.

For the first few years of my life, my mother and I lived intermittently with my grandparents while my dad served in the United States Air Force. From the big, brown, boxy radio in Grandma and Grandpa’s living room I heard such songs as How Much Is That Doggie in the Window (Patti Paige, 1952), Sixteen Tons (Tennessee Ernie Ford, 1955), and Blue Suede Shoes (Elvis Presley, 1956). Those songs, along with the hymns that we sang three times a week at church, were songs of my early childhood.

The stand-by hymns of my youth included Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me (my favorite), On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand (my mom’s favorite) and Leaning on the Everlasting Arms (my dad’s favorite). In my mind today I hear my grandmother and grandfather in the pew behind me singing alto and bass (respectively) to There’s an All-Seeing Eye Watching You. Our church of Christ building sat directly across the road from the Baptist Church, and my mom told me that one Sunday morning as the Baptists sang Will There Be Any Stars in My Crown? our church of Christ group responded by singing out loudly No, Not One, but I think she was kidding.

I was in the sixth grade when the Beatles made their iconic appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964. Soon after that, I wore my Beatles tennis shoes, carried my Beatles notebook and sang I Wanna Hold Your Hand with Beatles-crazed contemporaries around the world. The songs of my high school days included protest songs such as For What It’s Worth (better known as the There’s Something Happening Here song, written by Stephen Stills and performed by Buffalo Springfield, 1966) and War–What Is It Good For? (Edwin Starr, 1969). Other, happier songs of that time period included Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes (Edison Lighthouse, 1970) This Guy’s in Love with You (Herb Alpert, 1968), and Sweet Caroline, released in 1969 by my all-time favorite rocker-cum-crooner, Neil Diamond.

My husband and I married in 1973, and “our” song was (and still is) Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? from Carole King’s Tapestry album. Oh, the memories I have of listening to that song on the eight-track tape player in Dan’s 1967 navy blue Ford Mustang!

Today the songs I listen to most are contemporary Christian hits by artists such as Chris Tomlin, Steven Curtis Chapman, Point of Grace, and Casting Crowns. Most mornings I get charged up for my day by listening to these songs on my iPod while taking a brisk walk around our neighborhood. In my car the grandchildren and I rock out such childhood favorites as The Wheels on the Bus, The Ants Go Marching and The Lord Told Noah to Build Him an Arky Arky.

Neil Diamond says of his life’s music “It’s a beautiful noise, and it’s a sound that I love, and it fits me as well as a hand in a glove.” I wholeheartedly agree. Here’s to the artists, both the saints and the sinners, who have given me the music of my life. Their legacies live on.

Life’s Great Mysteries

In an effort to cut down on the dust that seems always to coat every horizontal surface inside our house, I have quit using dryer sheets. This has made little, if any, difference. Instead, I now add liquid fabric softener to every load of clothes and keep two anti-static balls (guaranteed to soften and fluff and control static) in my clothes dryer. These balls are bright yellow and about the size of tennis balls. For over a week, one of the balls was missing. I searched high and low for it, knowing that there were a limited number of places it could hide. Finally, when I stripped the bed on Friday, I found the ball inside the pillow case of my husband’s pillow.   How did he manage to sleep for a week without discovering that there was a ball inside his pillow case and how did I put the pillow case onto the pillow without noticing the ball was inside it?

Here are a few more of life’s great mysteries:

  • Why is it that when I open a bag of bread, I almost always lose the little plastic or wire twistee used to close the bag?       Honestly, how far and fast can those things travel?   The same question can be asked of lids off milk jugs, toothpaste tubes and shampoo bottles.
  • Why is it that when I see an ink pen in a wastebasket, I have to scribble it across a piece of paper to make sure it is bad before I actually put it in the trash.
  • How is it that I can open a can of cream of mushroom soup, turn to throw away the pull-off top, and turn back to find that the can of soup has vanished? How does one lose a can of soup?
  • Why is it that when I need a paper clip, all I can find are rubber bands and when I need a rubber band, all I find are paper clips?
  • Why does the bill from the landscape agency lie on my kitchen island and taunt me for a week but when I am finally ready to write a check and mail the bill, I can’t find it?
  • How do I manage to lose one shoe?
  • Why do those giant, dive-bomber houseflies never sit still on a surface where they can be swatted but instead perch on the rim of a glass or edge of a pie crust?
  • Is there even such a thing as a wrinkle-free shirt?
  • Why does a paper towel that, when wet, can hold a bowling ball in a T.V. commercial fall apart as I am carrying potato peels in it from my kitchen sink to the trash can?
  • Why do I hang onto a single black sock with white hearts on it for months, finally throw it away, and the very next week find its mate stuck to a bath towel in the guest bathroom?
  • Why does my computer freeze only when I am about to reach my highest score EVER in Word Mojo Gold?
  • Why do seat belts in cars twist into positions out of which they can never be untwisted?
  • Why is the TV remote control always lost?
  • How is it that we have figured out how to put men on the moon, get cars to parallel park themselves, and make baking pans out of plastic but we can’t have public bathroom stall doors that stay shut?

Just this morning I noticed that one of my dryer balls is again missing. Hopefully someone will enlighten me if I am unknowingly wearing it inside my pants or blouse or even my sock. I think I’ll go back to using dryer sheets. I’m losing the war against dust anyway.

Lies I Live By

God hates lies, and so do I. Nothing makes me madder than realizing that someone has lied to me. Why is it then, that with some regularity I not only tell myself lies but also proceed to live as if they are truths? Could it be that lies enable me to do things I know I should not do?

Lie #1: I don’t need a cart. Grocery store shopping carts and I have a long and bitter history. They dislike me intensely, and they prove this by wobbling, skidding, refusing to be turned, making thumping sounds, and jitterbugging across aisles every time I try to use them. Therefore, I resist getting a cart on trips to the store. “After all, I’m getting only a few things,” I reason. Fifteen minutes later, other shoppers chuckle and give a wide berth to the middle-aged woman, her arms laden with boxes, bags, and bottles, a loaf of bread precariously squished between her left shoulder and ear, a bag of rice clutched between her teeth, pushing a gallon of milk with her foot, sheepishly heading toward the checkout. The truth is this: I almost always need a cart.

Lie #2: I will lie down and nap for about 15 minutes. One of my greatest pleasures in life is daytime sleeping. I fantasize about taking afternoon naps the way other people fantasize about owning sports cars or winning the lottery. Invariably, however, when I lie down to nap, I sleep for hours. I go into the deepest level of sleep and then resist getting up as strenuously as I do when my alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. Setting my oven timer, microwave timer, clothes dryer timer, and cell phone timer does not help. Those annoying blasts, shrieks, whistles and rings only force me to get up and race all over the house slamming down buttons before running back and covering up to sleep for another hour. The truth is this: I take long naps.

Lie #3: I will start some good habits tomorrow. Starting tomorrow I will display a positive, pleasant attitude. I will eat reasonably, exercise faithfully, and clean everything in my house that needs to be cleaned. I will encourage my friends, dispense words of wisdom to my children and grandchildren, honor God and serve humanity. In short, I will be the Proverbs 31 woman in spades. The truth is this: Unless I expend a great amount of effort, I will be the same person tomorrow that I am today.

Investigate the lies that you live by and then challenge them. You will find that each one serves a purpose in your life, but it isn’t a good one. Commit to speaking the truth to yourself about yourself. Lies excuse bad behaviors but the truth can set you free.

Celebrating Relationships

My sister Pam is three years younger than I am, which does not mean nearly as much today as it did when we were kids. She was the typical pesky little sister, the one who skillfully removed the peanut from a peanut M & M, filled the cavity with mustard, and gave it to me with a smile.

When we played paper dolls, she dressed her doll in a wedding dress for every event. When the dolls went to the movies, Pam’s doll wore her wedding dress. When they went shopping, to the beauty salon, to school and even to church, that doll was dressed in her wedding dress. It exasperated me to no end! “You can’t dress your doll in a wedding dress to go to the beach!” I yelled. “Yes, I can,” she protested. “It is her prettiest dress and she wears it every day.” I wish with all my might that today I could show up at Pam’s front door for some planned outing wearing my wedding dress! Two obstacles prevent me from doing that: (1) She lives 400 miles away. (2) I can’t squeeze myself into that tiny, size 7 dress!

I love my sister Pam. We have a relationship that goes back literally forever, as we are two branches that sprang from the same root. I also have another friend named Pam. When I was a young woman, new to this area and scared to death of driving in Indianapolis, she and I went to see Gone with the Wind at a theater on the south side. I drove, though I was petrified behind the wheel. All went well, until we came out of the theater when the movie was over and discovered that I had locked my keys inside the car, left the headlights on so the battery was dead and it was raining like crazy. I remember that Pam looked at me, laughed and said, “Well . . . .” I love the way she still responds in that same way to frustrating situations today.

Today, Friday, May 16, 2014, my husband and I mark our 41st wedding anniversary. Every day this week he has said to me, “I want to wish you a happy anniversary today because I’m afraid I’ll forget on Friday.” This morning when I woke up I looked over at his sleeping form and took advantage of the opportunity to one-up him. “Happy anniversary,” I whispered.

He turned, removed his CPAP sleeping mask, rubbed his eyes and said, with all the romance he could muster, “Of all the people in the world, you’re still the one I would choose to spend 41 years with.”

I responded, “And you’re still the one with whom I would choose to spend 41 years.”

“You and your sick obsession with grammar!” he muttered, rolling over to go back to sleep.

Dan and I have been through many highs and lows in our marriage. Together we have been poor and not so poor, bought homes and cars, raised children, taken trips, buried parents, and navigated day-to-day life. All of those things have been important, but one component of the glue that holds us together is reflected in short, playful conversations like the one we had this morning. We “get” each other. Most of the time we even like each other.

The relationships that I have with my husband, family and friends mean the world to me; they are worth fighting for. (You fellow grammarians will just have to make peace with that last sentence.)   God Himself declared that it is not good for one to be alone. Nurture the healthy relationships that you have. Celebrate the special people in your life.